#(though i do worry if he comes across as too pathetic and/or whiny at times)

[sanjisprincesswifey]

want you back ⋆ sanji x reader

summary: sanji wants you to be his (again)

♡: NSFW content. ex-boyfriend & jealous!sanji x afab!reader. MDNI. oral sex. cunnilingus. sanji is really whiny and won't stop trying to win you back (could be applicable to la or anime version). 2k+ words.

sanji bitterly watches from the deck of the merry as your silhouette appears over the horizon. he notices you stumble slightly, his tightening grip on the rail turning his knuckles white. 

he goes to put out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe, helping you into the ship as soon as you approach.

“y/n! where were you? i was so worried about you,” he scolds as if you were a lost child. 

your eyebrows knit. “what? i told you guys not to wait up for me. i had a date, remember?” your words slur together, surely from the alcohol that your breath smelt of. 

sanji doesn’t respond, but kneels down to help you remove your shoes. you can hear him grumbling as you step onto the wood of the deck, taking your shoes in one hand and holding out the other for you to hold. 

“what’s the matter with you?” you ask, still accepting his offer and allowing him to take you to bed. 

“nothing,” is all he mumbles, though you know that’s a lie. deciding not to pry, you shrug it off and reach for your shoes back. 

“i can make it from here, sanji,” you say, wanting to leave as these events were starting to feel too familiar. 

he retracts his arm before you can take them, an annoyed expression on his face. he’s choking back what he really wants to say, eyes looming over you. 

but you knew that look…

“sanji,” you repeat with as much sternness as you could muster, “give.” your voice wavers, the tightness in your core already building with only his hands on you. 

his face soon turns cold as he refuses to both return your shoes and release your hand from his grip. there’s whispered arguing between the both of you as he pleads with you to let him take you back to your once shared room. 

“don’t do this now,” you whine, reaching for your doorknob. you can feel how close his body is pressed into yours, ready to enter the room right behind you. even you couldn’t convince yourself you didn’t want this to happen. 

“please,” he begs, already beginning to back you into the room. “i..i shouldn’t have broken up with you, y/n.

you think? 

you put your hands out to stop him from coming any closer so you could speak, now able to feel his taut muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. though you both already knew you weren’t strong enough to stop him, you weren’t exactly trying your hardest to get him to leave either. 

“this does not mean we’re getting back together,” you warn in a very unconvincing tone, allowing yourself to fall back onto the bed. 

you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching a devious smile spreads across his lips as he hums along. “then i’ll just have to try harder next time.” 

you tsk, rolling your eyes as he stands over you, both of his long legs rest on either side of yours. 

sanji climbs on top of you, already tossing his shirt to the side as he leans down and harshly pushes his lips against yours.  

though it only had been a week or two since you had found yourself in this situation, his lips were so needy, swallowing up yours in quick hurried kisses that seemed so desperate to be on yours.

his fingers glide underneath the shirt you were wearing, roaming your skin as he pleased. a pathetic moan reverberates into your mouth when he realizes you hadn’t worn any undergarments with your outfit. 

sanji’s large hand cups one of your breasts while the pads of his fingers lightly tug at your plump nipples of the other. 

he’s so gentle, eliciting breathy whimpers from the back of your throat as he plays with the sensitive areas. 

“expecting to be fucked today,huh?” he growls against your lips.

the jealously that writhed throughout sanji’s body made his pants feel tighter, painfully straining his swollen cock. 

you can’t help but giggle, feathering your fingers through his blond hair. “yeah, just not by you.” 

though your words hurt, it only increased his hunger for you. his lips begin to trail from your mouth along your jawline, his warm, minty breath leaving balmy spots down your neck. 

he grips the end of the shirt you had adorned, torturing himself with the idea of some other man pinning you down like this tonight. and with haste, the shirt is pulled over your head and sanji nearly drooling at the sight.

your tits sit so beautifully on your chest, nubs perky and swollen from sanji’s teasing. you peek up at him through your lashes, poking your bottom lip out just so. 

sanji never wastes any time, dipping his fingers into your hips to remove the skirt too. your plush thighs squeeze together, a light squish sound from your already aching core. 

he begins to massage your skin working his way from his thighs to your hips, “so beautiful, mon amour.” 

butterflies flutter in your chest as if it was the first time he had ever seen you.  

you reach up and cup sanji’s stubbly chin, regaining his attention. “you love me?” you question, seemingly out of the blue. 

he feverishly nods, hands tracing back up to hold your face in his hands. his lips smother your own, desperately kissing you at an unrelenting pace. “so…fucking…much,” he exclaims in between kisses. 

while he’s distracted you grab his hand, the strong muscles so heavy under such intoxication, and drag it down until he’s ghosting over your exposed cunt.

sanji desperately grunts against your lips at the warmth that emanates from your pussy, his tongue slipping into your mouth as a thank you. 

your thighs part and he whimpers once again, his deft fingers traveling to gently slip one finger through your folds. 

a wave of pleasure shoots up your spine causing you to tug at the strands of blond hair that sit on the back of his neck. 

the slick that has already gathered coats his finger, easily sliding one digit inside. “oh fuck,” he groans feeling your walls ease open for him and allowing another to enter. 

a breathy moan falls from your lips, ringing so hypnotically throughout sanji’s ears. he pumps them in and out at a steady pace, making sure to keep you calm and relaxed for now. 

he glances down at your pretty lips, your mouth slightly parted as heavy breaths escape. 

his heart is racing so harshly in his chest, overwhelmed with how addicting your body is. 

“sanji,” you whine, dragging out the last syllable of his name. his name sounds so pretty coming from your lips and that’s when it hits him once again that it could’ve been some other man’s name you were moaning. 

it’s enough to have him increase his pace, a slight grit in his teeth as he watches you wiggle under his body.

“so fucking pretty, for me,” he enunciates, a low tone in his voice. his fingers curl to reach that spongy spot inside that he knows drives you crazy. 

the pleasure has your entire body writhing, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

you mewl as his thumb finds your clit with such ease, it was so pathetic how he didn’t even try to hide that he remembered the map of your body. 

he softly rubs the nub in a circle, which earned a tighter pull at his blond hair. your pants begin to increase as the alcohol made it impossible to keep anything inside. 

your thigh muscles contract at the sensation, his ministrations harshly continuing until the overwhelming sensation burns in your stomach. 

“gonna…cum, sanji,” you purr against his mouth. 

his own jaw is dropped slightly, his cock throbbing within his pants as your tongue pokes out from your mouth. 

“come for me, darling,” he gasps, breath heavy against your lips. 

a squeaky, frantic moan erupts from your chest, your silky walls clamping down on him as your cream soaks his long fingers. 

his eyes widen at the sight of your fucked-out face. your gorgeous features remain so perfectly sculpted despite your release, but that didn’t surprise sanji at all. 

sanji noticed the hunger in your eyes, desperately needing for you to take advantage of him as he ravishes your body. 

his lips attach to your neck, sucking on the area surely leaving discolored bruises. 

you hiss as sloppy kisses cover your skin, your stomach, your thighs, anywhere he could get his lips on. 

“c’mere pretty boy,” you plead, your sultry tone causing his love stricken chuckle to tingle against your lips. 

you drag your hands down his stomach, his tight muscles so rigid against your fingers. “take ‘em off,” you murmur, fingers hooking onto his belt loops. 

like a good boy, both his pants and underwear are removed within the second, his lips never parting from yours. 

his cock springs up the moment his underwear is removed, slapping his stomach and staining it with pre cum. “so needy,” you taunt, your hand lowering to lightly pump his cock that twitches in your hand. 

his wavering voice breaks as he tries to speak, “m…missed you.” 

you circle your thumb around his sensitive tip, the pitiful whimper being swallowed by your mouth. “aw, poor baby,” you tease. 

a breathy chuckle escapes his lips as his eyes track down as you guide his rosy red tip slip through your folds. the mixture of both of your liquids swirl together, his jaw shaking at the sight. 

“miss me too?” he questions, blue eyes desperately glancing between yours as he hovers above you. you reach up, combing through his blond fringe with a smile. 

before you can answer, sanji slowly pushes himself inside of you as you sharply inhale at each inch. he pulls himself out in a dragging, aching motion, a throaty groan exits both of your bodies. he repeats this motion with each thrust reaching farther and farther inside of your body. 

your hips instinctively buck upwards, whines slipping from your mouth as you beg for more. 

“i’ll take that as a yes,” he purrs into your ear. his breath invading your senses as you wrap an arm around his neck. 

sanji takes note of your affection, his pace gradually increasing as his hips curve upwards reaching for that better angle he missed so dearly. 

your breathing quickens, his soon following as rapid moans echo throughout sanji’s head. 

one hand grips onto your waist while the other cradles your head. he can’t resist locking his lips with yours, sloppily kissing you with an increasing force.  

“please…sanji,” you mumble, your body too shaky to even form a coherent sentence. his fingers dig into your thighs at the call of his name, nearly keening over as your gummy walks milk his cock. 

he can feel himself desperate for release, but sanji wants to savor this. he wants to soak up every inch of your skin that he has in his arm while he can. 

his hips rock with the smooth pace he maintains, guttural groans emitting from him as his sweaty body moves with yours. “fuck…need to…”

sanji’s eyes roll into the back of his head as his hot seed begins to coat your thighs, quickly removing himself from inside you. he gives himself a couple more pumps for good measure, his load spilling onto your lightly sweat-coated skin. 

thick, heavy breathing subsides into swallow pants as sanji leans down to kiss your forehead, lips lingering on the warm area. 

you hum with satisfaction as he reaches for a tissue from your bedside table, gently wiping away his liquids from your skin. 

“i do love you, y/n. do you love me?” he asks with a wavering breath, kissing your lips, once again, as he lays beside you. 

rolling your eyes, you latch your fingers between his. you look over and stare into his glossy blue eyes that still seem so irresistible after all this time. 

“we still aren't back together,” you warn once more, knowing this response was answer enough. sanji pulls you to his chest, his rhythmic heartbeat sounding as if it was playing a song for you. 

a small smile forms on his lips as he kisses the back of your hand. “it’s okay, i’ll try again another time.”

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

[dylanblack03]

This is an excerpt from Chapter 5.

Lunchtime rolled around and I didn’t have any plans. Hanging around outside the front of the school was as good an idea as any. Not that anybody would come looking for me. My face was stone as I made my way out the doors, ignoring the loud bang that startled my classmates. Annoyance fueled my every move and I could care less about some whiny teenagers too caught up in their own worlds. There were greater things to worry about. My mom’s face flashed in my eyes and anger burned through my blood once more. Our argument still rang through my ears past the music blasting through my headphones. She was always just getting on my ass now that Dick was going off to college. I’m older now, when will I start taking things more seriously? Why couldn’t I just be more like smart, charming, perfect Dick- There was always just more that she wanted from me, I was never just enough! Nothing was ever good enough. He’s not even her bloodchild! Why does she care about him so much over me, her biological child?

An engine rumbled and I was tempted to also ignore it, but goddamn it. One glance up and annoyance flared once more. Chris. Think of one brother, and the other will of course show up. Fucking assholes. A scowl settled on my face, not for the first time. The hell was he doing here? He never came to see me. His fists were clenched and jaw tightened. His eyes were dark with rage. He looked as pissed off as I felt and I welcomed the coming challenge. I could feel my posture straightening as he stalked over to me. Not one to back down, I met him in the middle. We stood face to face, close to the edge of the sidewalk. Silence passed between us and anyone could feel the tension. It was a showdown between two opposing forces, a hurricane and a volcano meeting in an awful display of destruction. The wind of the hurricane brushed against my face. Birds were chirping through the harsh winds, distant and muffled. It was tense and still, like waiting for the pin to drop in the silence.

Chris crossed his arms in front of his chest, not a surrender but a truce. “Hey Vi. How are you?” The rage hadn’t dissipated, I could see it dwelling beneath the surface, but I decided to humour him at his pathetic attempt.

I gave him my fakest, happiest grin. “Oh, I’m great! I’m only moving in with Dad in about two weeks!” My chipperest voice was so fucking fake, it was almost funny. “No biggie or anything though, right?” I wish I could say I was happy to see him but it would be a damn lie. He did nothing wrong, technically, none of this was his fault, but no member of our fucked up family was innocent in this whole mess of a situation.

He hums, eyes narrowing. “I’m pissed that Mom’s making you do that.” Yeah, well you didn’t do anything to stop it, did you? I snarked back in my mind. But I didn’t bother saying that.

“Mom probably thinks that since I only have one more year left, it wouldn’t be worth it to make me move to Nevada with her and John,” The name was poison in my mouth, but I carried on, “Which is, you know, bullshit, but it’s fine. Totally fine.” It was not fine. None of this was fine, but what can I do to change it. Mom’s right, This is my last year but that seemed like decades at this point. I would rather off myself than have to deal with any more of Dad’s obnoxious bullshit. But that wasn’t something Chris would understand. Nobody understands.

Slowly, the hurricane seemed to calm, and Chris’ shoulders relaxed as his arms fell to his sides. A thoughtful expression came across his face, pensieve for only a moment before it broke. The anger was ever-present, it would always be like that for the two of us, but it faded away into the calm before a storm. His brown eyes brightened, and I could see the plan brewing behind his growing smirk. I braced myself for whatever may come out of his mouth.

A light smile played on his lips. “What if you didn’t have to live with Dad? I can move into the house and we can live together. If you’d prefer it.” He said it as though it were easy and simple and not a life-changing sentence.

My breath hitched. He would do that for me? I didn’t even need to think before I reached out. He took the bait and pulled me close, clinging to each other. I pictured it. The two of us together in our childhood home, life being as easy as it once was. Maybe in this fantasy world, I even had friends. I’d invite them over, we’d hang out, they’d see my cool older brother and fawn over him like the best friends in all teen dramas. I’d roll my eyes and they’d giggle, and we’d move on, enjoying our together. It was a nice sentiment… It was an impossible sentiment.

"Please,” I plead with him. “I don’t think I could handle living with Dad again.” Not again, not on my own. Not without someone there to help me. I’m eighteen, damn it, but the prospect reduced me to the little girl being hid away by her big brother in a closet, rocked by herself as she listened to loud voices through the thin walls. God, I hated being like this. I hate being vulnerable, I tried every day to put up a brave face so nobody could fuck with me, but I couldn’t help it. I squeezed tighter, taking in shallow breaths. Chris understood though. I don’t know why I doubted he would, even in my anger. He’s always understood. He was the brother I always could depend on. Even now, he wanted to go out on an impossible limb to convince our mother that he could keep me close and keep me safe.

I felt him nodding, chin bumping against my head. “I’ll need to talk to Mom, and maybe come up with some house rules or whatever. I’m gonna take care of you, I promise.” He kissed my head.

I nod in turn, “I’m okay with that.” I’m surprised to say I really was. I trusted Chris more than anyone. Guilt crept in that I was so ready to fight him earlier, but I was more embarrassed than anything. I pulled away, brushing under my eyes, careful not to smudge my eyeliner more than it already was. I ignored his knowing look as I blinked away any tears. Hopefully nobody fucking saw that, holy shit. If any of my classmates ever did, I’d murder them on the spot and feed their corpses to the pigs on Elm Street.

I didn’t even realize living with Chris was a possibility. Getting out of living with my dad and not being with my stepfamily either would be more than ideal. I’m sure it will be okay with Mom too. The bitch doesn’t give a fuck. Plus, she knows he’s responsible, she knows we’re close. I wasn’t as worried about convincing her.

A horn honking from behind Chris caught our attention, high-pitched and squeaky. I peered around him to see a vaguely familiar figure sitting smugly on a motorcycle. He pulled off his helmet to reveal wild, black hair and colorful streaks, snake bites piercing his lip. Was that… Jasper? Jasper had been one of Chris’ best friends when we were growing up, I hadn’t realized the two were still friends. His style had changed though. Throughout their high school years, Jasper had transitioned from being a little more my style to a little more Chris’. It was nice to see he finally went back to his roots. I grinned a little, watching as he swung his legs off the motorcycle and bounded towards us.

“You remember Jasper, right?” Chris patted his friend’s back harshly, causing the other to stumble. “I know it’s been a while but he insisted on coming with.”

“How could I forget that iconic emo hair?” I teased, feeling far more amicable than I have in a while. Chris was right, it had been a while since I’d seen him. I didn’t expect him to be this attractive still. The more punk style definitely fit him far more than Chris’ weirdly preppy one did, what with his dark hair and pretty green eyes. Chris caught my eye with a look, and I ducked my head.

Jasper sighs dramatically, “I didn’t think that would be all you remember me from.” His hair flopped in his face and ruined the moment for him, but he didn’t seem bothered.

I smirk goodnaturedly back at him. “Of course that’s all I remember, it was your signature look.”

“I thought I’d finally convinced him to move on from his dreams of kissing Frank Iero but alas,” Chris swept his head to the side, hand daintily resting on his forehead. “Success was not made for me in this battle.” Jasper’s grin was as energetic yet mischievous as it had always been and I felt a little giddy feeling creeping up in my chest as the two continued to bicker back and forth.

“Excuse you, who wouldn’t want to kiss that man? He’s hot as fuck and he plays guitar!”

“Those are very low standards.”

“This is why you don’t have a girlfriend. Your standards are too high. Pick a talent and fall in love with literally anyone who has it like the rest of us basic bitches.”

“God no.”

“Why, is Jasper not good enough for you then?” I interject, watching as Jasper lit up at the comment and Chris turned red. “Just because he can’t keep high grades and not talk about Sleeping with Sirens every five minutes? Can he not receive well enough for you?” I ignored Jasper’s indignant little ‘Hey!’ in favor of watching my brother flounder to find a response. It was very reminiscent of the times after one of Chris’ football games in which we teamed up to absolutely embarrass the shit out of him for ogling the other team.

“Keep your damn mouth shut,” He hissed, face as red as a tomato. We laughed our asses off as he turned away, stomping off the to the car. “I’m going back to the car! Lemme know when you’re ready to leave, Jasper.”

The laughter died off and suddenly it was just Jasper and I standing side by side. It wasn’t an awkward silence, perfectly comfortable, but words didn’t seem like enough. I had an inkling Jasper followed after Chris for a reason, probably to keep him in check. Chris was outwardly the perfect student and role model for many people who knew him; he’d been well-liked, popular, and very nearly the valedictorian. But his anger, when left unchecked, was explosive. It was a family trait, I guess. I was very easily reminded of the anger that was coursing through my veins earlier. Our rage was a quick hellfire bent on the destruction of everything in our paths. Chris and I were no exceptions. Now, though it lingered in the back of my mind, I was content enough to relish in the presence of two people I had depended on throughout my harsh childhood.

“He cares about you, you know,” Jasper breached the quiet. I turned to see his green eyes trained on my brother’s retreating back. He seemed happy too and I was glad. “A lot.”

“I know.” I did. It was a nice feeling to know at least somebody cared for me.

“If you need anything, Vi, we’ll be here for you. Both of us.”

“I know,” I repeated. I could hear the sincerity in his voice. It erased doubts I didn’t have. It erased any lingering thoughts that I would be alone come near the future, surrounded by demons lurking in my head and in my house. No mother having impossible expectations, no dad to terrify me. It was just me and Chris, and now Jasper, I suppose. Oddly enough, I was fine with that too.

Jasper hugged me one last time, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head, before following after Chris and I listened to the echoes of their laughter as they both readied their leave. They waved in unison at me, starting up their vehicles. The bell rang just in time. I watch fondly as they disappear into the distance before I make my way back inside. I grinned to myself, my anger dispelled.

[goonification]

san/seonghwa/wooyoung

established!woosan playing with their favourite toy, seonghwa 

(this is technically mostly sanhwa bc wooyoung likes to watch but he’s very much ateez present, don’t worry)

“Wow, Sannie look! He’s already hard.” 

Seonghwa already was on his knees in front of San when Wooyoung pointed shamelessly at the growing bulge in Seonghwa’s boxers. It was the only article of clothing left to hide just how turned on he was. His thighs tightened and his hands dropped with shame as he tried to hide the obvious outline of hard cock in his underwear. 

Wooyoung was casually cross-legged on the sidelines, as if he was merely watching them play video games and waiting his turn for the controller rather than about to witness his boyfriend get head from their mutual friend and occasional plaything. Wooyoung laughed loudly at Seonghwa's efforts. He was doing a terrible job at hiding the obvious. 

“Aw, you’re right.” San peered down past Seonghwa’s blushing face and chest to gawk at the tenting folds of Seonghwa’s boxers. “Well, Hyung is just going to have to wait now, isn’t he?”

Cheeks rosy, Seonghwa nodded politely. His body slowly started to decompress as he eased into the feeling of being on display for them. 

High off the prospect of getting his dick sucked while his boyfriend watched, a sleazy smirk was glued to San’s face. His t-shirt was only partially off, tucked behind his neck lazily and still attached to him at the sleeves. Seeing as he was otherwise fully dressed, it was obvious he was only trying to show off his abs with the impractical stunt. Wooyoung liked him best when he was cocky and San wasn’t one to deny his boyfriend a worthwhile show.

“It’s okay.” Wooyoung looked equally as cocky as he comforted Seonghwa, “San’s probably hard under there too.”

“Yeah?” Seonghwa spoke in barely a whisper, eyes innocent and wide as he redirected his attention directly in front of him to the in-seam of San’s jeans. The unforgiving fabric was tighter than usual. There was a gap between his body and the waist of his baggy pants that usually wasn’t there as they lifted away from his stomach.

Mindlessly, Seonghwa licked his lips before realizing how obvious he was being.

“Someone’s eager.” Wooyoung quipped through the drawl of his horny daze.

“Whenever you’re ready.” San looked down at Seonghwa’s desperation and threaded a strong hand through his hair for encouragement. “You know how much I like it when you unwrap me all by yourself.”

Shaky hands popped open the button of San’s pants. The sound of his fly being unzipped sent butterflies loose in the depths of Seonghwa’s stomach; the otherwise inconspicuous sound of a zipper was downright filthy given the context.

Next, Seonghwa pulled down on San’s belt loops with enough force for the fabric to clear the resistance of his bulge and leave San in only a loose pair of boxers.

They shared a warm exchange as Seonghwa peered up at San with already-damp eyes, savouring the last moment as himself before he was reduced to nothing but a hole for San to use. San pushed the hair out of Seonghwa’s face, preparing him for what was about to come.

Brain foggy, Seonghwa was thinking hard to decide how he would remove the last layer, trying to ignore the background noise of fabric shifting followed by soft moans. Wooyoung never was keen on patience. 

“C’mon Hyung, you know San doesn’t like to be teased.” Wooyoung grunted out a warning, breath already wavering as he pleasured himself beneath his waistband.

“I’m pretty sure you just want to see my cock.” San wasted no time putting Wooyoung in his place, to which he simply groaned with pleasure at the insult.

San was interrupted from reveling in his boyfriend’s crudeness when he felt the chill of cold air across his cock. Seonghwa was carefully lifting the elastic waist of his boxer up and over the member before letting it pool at San’s legs.

All three of their breaths slowed down as they took in their own unique perspective on the scene. Seonghwa was face to head with San’s thick cock, veiny and already sticky at the tip for him. It wasn’t quite unfamiliar but the sight was still fresh and pleasantly shocking enough that it knocked the air right out of his lungs.

San’s ego was stroked to completion as he watched his Hyung’s reaction to his dick, breath hitching and eyes locked on to the head, leaking at the promise of Seonghwa’s soft lips soon to be wrapped around it.

Lastly, Wooyoung accompanied the sight of his boyfriend’s hard cock, inches away from a needy Seonghwa’s parted lips, with a greedy squeeze to his own aching balls, reminding himself of just how much he liked to watch.

His whiny voice impatiently cut through the tension in the room like a dull knife begging to be sharpened. “Go on. Don’t leave him waiting.” 

“Shhh, Wooyoung.” San saw Seonghwa’s eyes glaze with panic and scolded his greedy boyfriend. “I want him to think for himself.”

“But you’re dripping.” Wooyoung winced when a weighty drop of San’s precum succumbed to gravity and hit the floor. To him it was a thoughtless waste.

“Hyung knows what he’s doing.” San tsked. He glared daggers at Wooyoung. “Do you want to be blindfolded? Because I’ll do it.”

The threat was plausible and hit him where it hurt. He loved watching almost as much as he loved being in the centre of the action. Wooyoung quickly shook his head no and made a zipping motion across his lips. The thought of having to get off from sounds and smell alone was torture. He would be quiet for now.

Well, as quiet as his body would let him be as he continued pleasuring himself.

Meanwhile, hot breath against San’s dick became hotter with each shallow puff from Seonghwa’s lungs.

“Can I?” Seonghwa looked up longingly at San, waiting for permission he knew he already had. He was stalling. His heart was racing and he wasn’t sure why. 

“Of course, baby boy.” San cupped Seonghwa’s face. He softly swiped his thumb over one of his Hyung’s cheekbones, caressing the soft skin there. San couldn’t help imagining how pretty he would look with cheeks hollowed out and taking his dick, however, he kept his filthy thoughts to himself. Seonghwa needed support first. “You can set the pace, okay?”

Seonghwa nodded, happy with the compromise. San’s hand on his cheek was a gentle comfort that he didn’t want to give up quite yet. Easing into the blowjob, Seonghwa went in tongue first instead, sliding it out of his mouth and creeping the wet muscle towards San’s cock. Even though he knew it was coming, when the wetness finally came into contact with San’s cockhole, flicking at the divot, his muscles jumped into a flex and his hands dropped to his side.

Wooyoung was ecstatic. The sight of San’s full body tensing with pleasure was something he was rarely privy to a secondhand view of. It really let him drink in every individual muscle of his boyfriend’s sculpted body. All his favourite memories of skin-on-skin came flooding back, hindsight guiding his hand up and down his own shaft furiously. He wouldn’t last long like this, but needy and pathetic was his style. It suited him.

With Seonghwa’s mouth still free to express emotion, a small smile crept onto his face. Both boys were moaning, music to Seonghwa’s ears and he was the composer. However, he wouldn’t let himself get too cocky. His power trip had a clear expiration date. Not that he minded; he preferred the stress-free alternative to shot calling.

It wasn’t long before Seonghwa finished cleaning all the streaks of San’s precum. He punctuated his methodic lapping at San’s head by sloppily wrapping his tongue around the shaft to assure that he got all the hard to reach places.

“Jesus.” San whispered.

Seonghwa pulled back, leaving San’s damp cock at the mercy of the cold room and Wooyoung’s greedy sightlines. “Good?”

“Very.” San was out of breath, speaking in bursts. He wouldn’t dare beg, but he was clearly desperate. He grabbed his cock at the base and positioned it perpendicular to Seonghwa’s lips. “Need your mouth...”

De-stressed and prepped to be used, Seonghwa was satisfied knowing his fun was over. There was already a fresh bead of precum forming on San’s tip, putting Seonghwa’s previous efforts to waste. To both Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s surprise, instead of taking his mouth as promised, San pressed the creamy head against Seonghwa’s lips. Eyes locked with Seonghwa, San messily dragged thick streaks of white across the puckered lips as Wooyoung watched in awe at the sloppiness of the scene.

Finally, San centered his cock to rest in the small gap between Seonghwa’s slicked up pout. “Open up.”

Wanting to be good, Seonghwa listened. Not giving him time to adjust, each millimeter that Seonghwa opened his jaw was just an invitation for San to push himself further inside the wet hole. He slid in with ease, using his own precum as lube and taking his mouth inch by inch, only pausing when he felt Seonghwa’s throat convulse with a small choke. 

Wooyoung, dick still in hand, rolled his eyes. “I could’ve taken you like that easy.” He was clearly enamoured by the sight of tears in Seonghwa’s eyes, an unavoidable physical response to him being filled all at once. Wooyoung continued, adding insult to injury. “Warm up is for pussies.”

San ignored the rude comment from his boyfriend, more worried about Seonghwa. “You okay?” He checked in, hoping he hadn’t damaged his favourite toy.

“Mmhm.” Seonghwa moaned loudly and affirmatively around the cock, shaking it with deep vibrations. San tensed up again at the quick and unexpected feeling, only to damn near collapse when Seonghwa swallowed around him, sucking him several inches deeper into his mouth in the process.

“God, you’re so good at that.” San complimented, forgetting how positively Seonghwa reacts to praise.

His words only inspired the older boy to work even harder, bobbing his head furiously. The pace he was setting would be brutal if San dared to comply to it, and Seonghwa had no signs of slowing down in sight. Each movement of his head brought San’s dick closer to the back of his throat, tongue fighting against the speed of his slippery movements to wrap around the shaft when possible.

“Sannie, please, just fuck him.” Whiny and equally as desperate, Wooyoung had already coated himself in spit, preparing to stroke himself to compilation any minute now. He wanted the show that he was promised if he was going to risk blowing his load. “Look how badly he wants you.”

Seonghwa dragged nails over San’s hips, squeezing the flesh to co-sign what Wooyoung said. He did want San. He wanted San to fuck him stupid. Yet, San merely stood there as he got pleasured, hands on the crown of Seonghwa’s head, body frozen and too worried about Seonghwa to move. 

And that’s why Wooyoung was there.

“Hyung, look here.” Wooyoung cooed, voice dripping with theatrics. Seonghwa did as he was told, shimmery eyes glancing over as he slowed his pace on San’s cock to focus up on Wooyoung.

With this new cause now seeming far more important than Wooyoung’s pleasure, the pumps around his cock had slowed as well, intentional squeezes to show off his veins now that he had Seonghwa’s attention. Wooyoung let out a quiet laugh, probably at him. “Now there’s our good boy. So good at listening and following directions, aren’t you?” Seonghwa’s eyes lit up at the praise, excess drool escaping down his chin from the gaps around San’s cock. 

San was also quiet, listening politely to Wooyoung and continuing to be pleasured from below. He was eager to hear the pitch.

“Aw, so messy. You’re even dripping through your shorts.” Wooyoung used his free hand to shamelessly point, redirecting everyone’s attention to the damp stain on Seonghwa’s boxers. “Take those off, will you? I bet you’ll feel much more comfortable.”

Whimpering sadly as San’s cock had to pop free from his lip’s grasp, Seonghwa complied, shuffling the boxers off his knees and leaving him comfortably exposed.

“Better?”

“Better.” Seonghwa croaked, his throat sore. His head was spinning, averting his attention between all three of their cocks, before finally focusing on San’s again.

“Wow…” San looked past his own dick to gawk at the newly visible one. It was bright red, sore from neglect. He nearly felt bad before remembering that Seonghwa was enjoying this. It was exactly what he signed up for.

Still, Seonghwa’s puppy dog eyes were too much for San, he folded with sympathy within seconds of the sight. “You can touch yourself if you want.”

“Really?” Seonghwa whimpered.

Whatever soft and gentle treatment San was about to pamper him with was cut off by Wooyoung’s simpler answer. “Just make sure you’ve earned it.” 

With determination, Seonghwa nodded. First, he wrapped a hand around his own cock, gasping at the contact of his palm’s soft skin. His pretty moans were quickly muffled though as he willingly suckled on the tip of San’s dick. His tongue slid over every crevice between parted lips but it was clear neither his mouth or hand would be moving until San took control.

“You idiot, don’t just stand there. You told him to set the pace and he did. Don’t disappoint us.” Wooyoung continued to redirect the scene in the direction of his ideal fantasy. “Give our good boy the face fucking he deserves.” Greedy as he was, the interruption was the final push necessary to give San the reassurance that he wouldn’t break their poor toy.

Much like before, he pushed himself inside the cavern between Seonghwa’s swollen lips, filling the hole inch by inch. However, this time, there was no resistance until he bottomed out, sharp breaths from Seonghwa’s nose puffing against his abdomen.

Their toy was finally ready to be thoroughly used.

San’s hips pulled back only to snap forward again, filling Seonghwa’s throat with his shaft and subsequently drowning him with hot precum.

Seonghwa only groaned with pleasure, giving slow strokes to his own hard cock in tandem with San’s hesitant movements.

He fucked him again. And again. And again, before deciding that Seonghwa really could take it. He would take it, regardless of his capabilities. Their Hyung was beyond determined to be used that night. Used until San was fucking him at that relentless speed he was desperately begging for. Seonghwa didn’t want time to catch his breath; he wanted San.

Wooyoung eyed the thick liquid dripping from Seonghwa’s cock as it was thrust into his creamy fist with each of San’s movements. Seonghwa’s pale body was being jerked around to his advantage, not even needing to move his wrist to fuck himself in time with San’s thrusts. Wooyoung’s voice was shaky. “See Sannie, he loves it! He’s getting close already.”

San grunted, appreciative of the description that made his imagination go wild. “Fuck, I am too.” His body ached from repeatedly slamming his cock down Seonghwa’s eager throat, the boy somehow still finding time to swallow around him on the way in and out. San threw his head back, exposing a neck full of fading purple and red. “Won’t be much longer.” 

“Oh! On his face, please?” Wooyoung begged, clearly getting close himself as well. “I want to see your load so badly. I want to see you all over that pretty face of his.”

San nodded, more than happy to oblige the request. He redirected his attention to Seonghwa, blissed out and hardly paying attention to the world around him. He needed to come back to reality first. “I’m so fucking close. God.” It took all San’s focus to give the simple task. “Cum with me, baby. You can manage that, can’t you?” It was hardly a question. The three boys had mere seconds left of pride before they’d all have to choose where they wanted to empty their loads.

Seonghwa couldn’t answer with words but his eyes, fluttering up at San with both pride of his journey and need for conclusion, said all he needed to know. Seonghwa allowed his jaw to go slack and his neck to fall limp, head only being held upright by large, gentle hands as San fucked the mouth relentlessly, hips on fire and balls tighter than ever. 

Right until they weren’t.

With a flash of white, San’s vision went blank, just enough coherence left to fulfill the request of pulling out of Seonghwa’s mouth with a whine, thick and creamy strands still connected to his lips, and blow the rest of his load all over Seonghwa’s tolerant face.

Just as he was told, Seonghwa came with him, holding himself hostage on the edge right until the first gulp of hot cum hit the back of his throat and the second ended up on his cheek. He shook his cock vigorously, making sure every last drop had been milked as San just kept finishing over and over for what felt like forever, covering Seonghwa with a trophy of his hard work.

Ironically, Wooyoung came last, cock intentionally directed up his own body as he spurted ropes of white all over his chest and stomach for no reason other than giving himself a show. While it was only seconds later than the others, he was stubborn, refusing to let himself go without that visual he wanted so badly of Seonghwa’s face, soft cheeks and puffy lips coated in streaks of his boyfriend’s hot load and stripping him of all dignity. He happily licked his own fingers clean of excess while admiring his boys, both satisfied and happy.

While it would usually be considered a waste to see San’s cum anywhere other than in one of his own holes, Wooyoung figured Seonghwa’s lips were free real-estate for a taste. Breaking the barriers of his fantasy, he crawled over and claimed Seonghwa’s mouth with a kiss, much gentler than usual for Wooyoung. Seonghwa, still not sure exactly what was going on, melted right into the feeling of cold lips notching against his own, wet and salty with yet another familiar flavour mixing in to accompany San’s taste.

Barely recovering from his pleasure, San broke out in a beaming smile when his eyes opened to two pretty boys on their knees, sloppily kissing next to his satisfied cock and sharing his taste. 

Wooyoung pulled back first, admiring the deer-in-headlights look on Seonghwa’s face. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up so we can ruin you all over again.”

[whumperooni]

snowfall

Pairing: Drug dealer!Keigo x Model!College Student!Reader

Tags/Warnings: tw noncon, tw drug use, tw eating disorders, blowjobs, humiliation, verbal abuse, slightly yan keigo, dumbification

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: This was written in response to a request! Drug dealer Keigo makes my mind go stoopid and I just want him to fuck me up in every way possible ♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You really have some fuckin’ nerve.

“I- I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I have a shoot that day and a test too...”

Yeah, and? Doesn’t mean you don’t have time to hook up with him.

You always have excuses and it’s getting pretty old. Don’t you know who he is? Don’t you know he runs this town? Don’t you know that no one tells him no?

Keigo grins- perfect teeth showing and head tilting- and he gives you a nod, watches as relief washes over your face.

Oh no, darling, you’re not getting off that easy- it’s time for you to learn that you belong to him just like the rest of this whole goddamn city.

You’re nervous and shy, sure. He gets it. You’re not one of the party girls- you’re just a hopeless little thing trying to make mommy and daddy proud by being their pretty, desperate cashcow. Have to stay thin and bony if you want to get on the next magazine cover. Have to lose your appetite if you want to be small enough to be a big star. And, he helps with that. He gives shy, sad you what you need.

He gets that you’re hesitant about hooking up with your dealer. He’s been nice about it. But he can dash away all your worries if given the chance- all you need is for him to show you how good it’ll be.

All you need is for him to show you that you belong to him- just like everyone else in this fucking town does.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he drawls out. “No hard feelings.”

You relax more and Keigo nearly scoffs, hides it behind a platinum grin.

You should feel lucky he’s been so patient.

(So far. Really, you’re hurting him, you know? He’s been so good to you- can’t you at least give him a smile and a sweeter apology for being so frigid?)

Keigo drags his gaze over you, takes in your innocent sundress and the bags under your eyes, the fragile weariness that never seems to escape you.

You’re such a pathetic little thing. All he wants to do is sit you in the lap of luxury, have you reeling from pleasure and never wanting for anything. Fuck your family- he can be all the family you need. He can be your daddy, spoil you stupid and keep you in ecstasy- keep you lost in a such a glorious haze that you’ll never find your way out, never want to get out.

You’d make such a pretty little pet- dumb and smiling with glossy eyes and bruise marked skin, fattened up and wrapped in silk, lace. A good little girl content under his thumb.

Why can’t you see it? Why the fuck can’t you understand that you belong with him? That you belong to him?

Keigo’s eyes narrow as you start to make your excuses to leave and his teeth clench while he grins, his patience frays and snaps.

“Hey, wait a second, sweetheart,” he calls out- keeping it friendly, light; a direct opposition to the cool anger and frustration snaking through him. You stop in your tracks and look over your shoulder- inquisitive, cute, so naive.

“Yes, Hawks?”

Hawks. He’s getting tired of that name falling from your lips- he wants to hear his real name from you; he wants to hear you whine and moan and scream it.

Keigo widens his grin and he crooks a finger toward you, tilts his head as you blink your curiosity.

“C’mere,” he coaxes. “I’ve got somethin’ new for you to try. No charge, promise- I just want my favorite customer’s opinion.”

Hesitance flutters over your face and it’s hard for him not to huff at the way you waver, the way you bite your lip and scrunch your brows together in contemplation.

“Come on,” he presses. “It’s good shit- this’ll keep you up all night and you won’t even wanna raid the fridge while you study. You said you had a shoot comin’ up, right? Don’t wanna risk a binge before that.”

Repulsion, shame, hurt, panic- it all flashes across your face in a rapid fire sequence. He’s being a dick by saying it, yeah, but he doesn’t care- not when you’ve been so frigid for so long, not when he knows it’s going to have you agreeing like a good little girl.

And you do agree. With a frown and eyes that are a little wet, with teeth nibbling at your bottom lip and a bowed head, you agree.

Keigo’s grin grows and he waves you to follow him over to the couch, plops down on it and smirks when you sit down quietly beside him.

You don’t say a word as he starts cutting it up- you just watch him with a still bitten lips and your hands clasped in your lap. The look you give him when he’s done is a little unsure, but you sigh when he raises a brow and you lean down toward the table without any real reluctance- one hand going to brush your hair back from your face in an elegant little move that shouldn’t preface the way you oh so expertly snort that stark white line off his ebony coffee table.

A tiny shudder and swipe of your hand under your nose and then you’re sitting up again, blinking at him and wetting your lips.

“What do ya think?” he asks- casual, like he doesn’t know what’s about to happen, like he doesn’t know how fucked you’re about to be in just a few seconds.

“It’s, um,” you start up, voice already dipping a little dumb and hazy. “It was, um...um...”

Um. Um. Um.

God, you’re so fuckin’ stupid. So fuckin’ cute.

A tiny noise and then your lashes are fluttering, your body is swaying gently as your fingers curl and uncurl against your thighs.

“H-Hawks? What...I don’t...”

You slump against the couch, whimpering, and Keigo’s eyes grow hooded as a flush creeps across your face, as you give a sluggish little squirm and moan.

“Aw, baby, what is it?” he croons. “Was that a bit too much for my favorite little junkie?”

Even with you fucked up, tears still spring to your eyes and Keigo grins as a whimper sounds from you, reaches a hand over and swipes a tear from the corner of your eye.

“I know, I know,” he hums. “That was mean, wasn’t it? But you’ve been so mean to me, angel. Such a frigid little bitch. You’re the only coke whore I know that doesn’t want to fuck.”

“Ha- Hawks-”

It’s so whiny, so small. He likes it, though- likes the tears in your eyes and the tears in your voice, the way you sniffle and look at him with a blurry, hazy, dumb gaze.

“You gotta understand,” Keigo continues on, gripping your cheek and leaning over you, forcing you to fall back against the arm of the couch. “You really left me no choice. I’ve been so nice to you, ya know? All I wanna do is take you out and show you a good time. I just wanna fuck you, princess, and give you a good life.”

Another whimper, a tiny little shudder. You can’t fight the way his free hand runs up your thigh and you can’t fight the way his fingers rip your panties to the side, run up your slit.

“I wouldn’t have had to do this if you weren’t such a prude,” he says with a sigh. Crystalline tears drip down your cheeks and he hums, noses at your temple and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Shh, baby, shh- daddy’s going to take care of you. You’re gonna love it, babe, and you’re gonna love me.”

“Hawks-”

Two fingers plunging into your cunt cuts you off and Keigo smirks as your cushy insides pulse around him, pulls his head back so he can grin down at you and wrap his hand around your throat, choke off that sob that’s trying to sound.

“It’s Keigo,” he tells you. “No more Hawks- it’s Keigo from now on, okay?”

You only whimper in response and Keigo huffs at that, chokes you a bit harder.

“Say it,” he orders. “Call me by my name.”

He loosens his hold on your throat and you cough, arch your back in a pathetic little move whenever his fingers curl deep inside of your cunt.

“K- Keigo...”

“That’s a good girl,” he coos- condescendingly, his lips curled into a smirk, satisfaction filling him as your hips grind against him and your lashes flutter.

Good- the ketamine is starting to kick in.

You whine- soft and small, head lolling to the side. He takes the time to smooth his hand down to your chest and he pinches at your nipples- what a fuckin’ tease to go braless and still have the gall to reject him- and twists them to make you whine again, let out slurred mumble of his name.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he hums, squeezing your tit and smoothing his thumb over your clit. “Isn’t daddy making you feel good?”

You nod, dumbly, and Keigo’s smirk grows as you try to reach a hand up to him only for it to fall limp against the couch.

“You were missin’ out on this, sweetheart,” he huffs. “But you’re not gonna miss out anymore- daddy Keigo’s gonna take real good care of ya from now on.”

Another dumb nod- pupils blown and your lips parted, mind spinning as you agree to something that you can’t possibly comprehend when you’re flying so high. Keigo slips in another finger and you come on them, mewl like a stupid little slut as you tremble weakly underneath him.

He takes them out from you and reaches a hand over without looking, sticks his fingers inside the open baggie waiting for him on the table and then shoves them into your gaping mouth. You suckle on them like a good little whore and Keigo’s smirk almost softens as you look up at him through your lashes, as you drool all over his rings and digits.

Oh, yeah, this is gonna be real easy- he’ll have you complacent and adoring and dumb for him in no time.

He should have done this sooner.

Keigo wrenches his fingers from your mouth and you whine when he does, moan as your head tilts back and your fingers twitch along the couch. You don’t fight him at all when he pushes you to the floor and you don’t do anything but whimper when he drags you by the hair, pulls you between his legs and to his crotch.

You’re like a doll on your knees for him- mind blank and eyes bright, so thoughtless and pretty with spit on your chin and a flush flared across your cheeks. He could get used to the sight, but he likes it even better when he pulls his cock out and you begin to mouth at it slowly, smear pre-cum and drool all over your face as you nuzzle against it in a drugged haze.

“Ah, shit, angel,” he sighs out- content as he curls his fingers through your hair, as he reaches for his smokes with his free hand. “Can’t tell ya how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

You slur out some nonsense to him and Keigo ignores it as he lights up. He takes a draw and he exhales- satisfaction and smoke slipping from him as you sloppily take his head into your mouth.

You don’t fight him when he pushes your head down and Keigo grunts as your tongue writhes against his shaft, curls his fingers tighter into your hair as your throat relaxes, as your lashes flutter shut.

“Take it all, baby,” he drawls. “And ya better swallow it down when I come. Better keep it down, too- daddy knows his little whore likes an empty stomach, but you gotta take everything I give ya. Gotta be a good little baby for me. You- fuck, shit- you gotta take. it. all.”

Keigo fucks up into your mouth, punctuates the words with a rock of his hips that smushes your nose into the curls around his cock. You still don’t fight, but you do whimper and more tears begin to spill as he fucks your throat, buries his cock deep inside and grinds.

When he comes, you swallow it all down- cough and whine but still swallow his seed, blink your wet lashes up at him and stare at him with fucked out little doe eyes that get his cock hard all over again.

Keigo pulls you into his lap with a grin and he reaches over, plucks the baggie from the table and scoops up your favorite little treat with his fingers, shoves it under your nose and watches as you obediently, thoughtlessly, dumbly snort it all up.

You really are such a good little bitch when fucked up- he really, really should have done this sooner. Would have done it sooner if he had realized how easy this would be.

He just wanted to give you a chance is all, though- too bad for you that you didn’t realize you should have been saying yes all along.

Ah, well, he’s got you now.

He’s got you for forever.

You slump against him, hips grinding sluggishly against his cock, and Keigo grins, pets over your hair before grabbing you by the back of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss.

They way you kiss him back is sloppy, pathetic, messy. But Keigo takes it all, though, and he even groans a little into it, flashes you a sneer when he let’s you pull back to look at him with your stupid, blank little stare and lost smile.

“Oh, we’re gonna have such fun together, princess,” he promises. “Daddy’s going to keep you nice and high, keep you fucked stupid.”

You nod, dumbly, and he knows that you don’t understand a word he just said, is perfectly fine that.

You don’t need to think- as long as you can be his good little bitch, as long as you’re not telling him no anymore.

Keigo kisses your cheek and he shoves you back down to the floor, stands and hauls you up until you’re slumped over the coffee table. You mumble something as he flips the skirt of your sundress up and Keigo ignores it, rubs his cock against your soaked cunt before pushing in.

You whine at the intrusion and Keigo sighs- content, happy, grinning lazily as he sticks his cigarette back between his lips.

You’ll be a good girl for him from now on, he knows, and he’ll treat you real good in return- as long as you’re obedient, as long as you never deny him, as long as you never tell him no again.

[uniqorrn]

KiriBaku X Reader

A/N: I’m a huge simp for KiriBaku x reader fanfic. I hope ya’ll like this since I just spent a week editing and writing this pfffttt. 

Pairing: KiriBaku x reader 

Warnings: kidnapping, some inappropriate behavior/words, some blood, angst but some love and fluff to balance it out at the end.

Prompt: You, kirishima, and Bakugo, along with your other classmates end up having to fight villains on the street in a sudden attack. However, you get caught in one of the villains arms and taken away in front of everyone. Kirishima and Bakugo watched as you dippeared and they would do anything to get you back.

Key:

e/c = eye color

Y/n = your name

Y/h/c = your hair color

—————————

“Tch, dammit!”

“What happened?!”

“Where did this sudden attack come from?”

The confused screams and shouts of your friends filled your ears as your gaze settled upon one of the villains that attacked the street. The attack came out of no where and startled everyone, leaving shocked looks on their faces. It left the class of 1-A without their costumes too, a bad position to be in as your costumes aided you guys in battle.

Your e/c narrowed onto the man in front of you, studying him to see what his next move could possibly be. You were fighting on the out skirts of the city with a few pro hero’s however, you got word that most of your classmates and boyfriends(Kirishima and Bakugo) were all somewhere in the center fighting in the middle, per usual. That’s where you were now, in the center of the large city, eyes narrowed onto the man dressed in black with the smirk of the devil written across his face under his mask.

You hadn’t seen Bakugo or Kirishima yet, only having seen Deku and Todoroki fighting another villain on the other end of the clearing. That rumor about everyone being here didn’t seem to be true.

“Well. Well. Well. lol Kenya we have here. A pretty little thing ain’t she?” The villains masked voice spoke through the clearing, breaking your thoughts and bringing you back to reality. You couldn’t think about Kirishima and Bakugo right now, they would be perfectly fine in battle being so strong.

“What do you say we okay a little game.... hmm..?” The villains tone was dark and rather scary, causing an uncomfortable shiver to flow down your spine. Something about him seemed off. I mean everything about a villain was off but, this guy? He was kreepeir. He took out a deck of cards, shuffling them in his hands like a pro, he grabbed a card between to long fingers and pointed it at you as if asking you to take it.

“I don’t have time for games” you spat, eyes narrowing more onto the target in front of you. You could almost see the creepy smirk he had on under his black mask.

“Awe.. that’s a pity.” He whispered, but in an instant he was gone until cold hands grabbed your shoulders, pushing you down slightly to prevent movement.

“However, I guess I’ll have to take you somewhere else to play the game then.” He whispered in your ear, his breath hitting against it making you even more uncomfortable. The villain had caught you off guard, your body freezing as one of his hand made there way to your neck.

“I think you’ll be the perfect-“

“Oi! Get your hands off her you dick!” The all to familar angry shout had you slightly relieved as the light from Bakugos explosions clouded your vision. However, the hands on your shoulders didn’t lift up. Bakugos attack seemed to have done nothing to the villan. Kirishima ran up behind him, scolding him for not being careful with his attacks.

“Sorry boys but, me and little princess here have some place to be.” And with that a blue glow formed around your body, blackness slowly starting to fill your vision as you were sucked into a portal. The last thing you had seen was the terrified looks on Bakugo and Kirishimas faces as you screamed for help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dammit dammit dammit!!” Bakugo screamed, his fists colliding with the ground you had been standing on just moments ago, hot ears leaking from his eyes and onto the stone floor. Kirishima stood behind him, his eyes watering over in anger. Angry that he couldn’t save you. Unlike Kirishima this wasn’t normal behavior from Bakugo. He usually kept his emotions bottled up inside, preferring not to share them unless he absolutely had to but, seeing you get taken away in front of him broke his heart.

“That bastard! He’ll pay for this” He continued to shout as members of class 1-A gathered around them, making a small circle around Bakugo and Kirishima. It was quiet for a while, no one dared to speak, shocked that yet another classmate was kidnapped. Everyone seemed to have known what happened judging by how Bakugo was reacting. Their classmate, their friend, someone they’ve known for a good while, was taken from them. 

Kirishima sucked in a harsh breath, flashbacks from when Bakugo was kidnapped filled his head which made his breathing even more uneven. Usually, it would be Kirishima to make the first move in comforting one of the two in their three way relationship. However, it was Bakugo who stood up and placed a warm comforting hand on his boyfriends shoulder. In that moment, as tears streamed down both their faces they silently promised each other they would get you back, even if it meant dying to save you.

Class 1-A spent that night in the hospital, doctors checking over their wounds and injuries to make sure they were alright. Many citizens thanked the group for helping them by giving them comforting words and phrases of encouragement. It didn’t phase them though, everyone-including the teachers- were still shocked and upset about what had happened. Bakugo and Kirishima were forced home that night as well, told that they would find you tomorrow but the two hot headed boys couldn’t wait that long but they had too, all they could was hope that you could hold on till morning-till they came to save you. 

~~~~~~~~~~ “Put me down you freak!” Your voice was dry and hoarse but you continued to shout anyway hoping that someone would hear you. He jerked you around roughly, shutting you up as he roughly shoved you to the ground in an empty, cold, dark room. A pained gasp left your lips as the wind was knocked out of you. You tried to stand up but fell right back down as your body was too weak to move. 

“Pathetic. What a lame excuse for a hero.....” The villain continued on with his rambling. You tuned him out though, not listening to what he was saying as tears finally fell from your e/c eyes. You swallowed thickly, trying to steady your breathing and keep quiet. A sudden kick to your side pressed you against the wall before the guy left the room, the large metal door slamming against the stone walls, the sound echoing around the empty room. 

That's when it hit you. You were stuck in here and couldn’t get out. The sobs escaped your body harshly, straining your throat with each sob that left your mouth. You brought your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly against your body as you cried. It was cold and dark, you had no idea where you were and you know for a fact that you were making Kirishima and Bakugo worry. 

Eventually the crying slowed down, and you drifted off to sleep. You hadn’t known how long you had been sleeping in that spot for but the loud sounds of explosions and things breaking woke you up. People were shouting and loud noises were going off everywhere.

“I said where is she!” You recognized that all to familar deep, raspy voice. It was Bakugo. You didn’t have to wait long for the door to burst open, the sudden light blinding you for a moment. You couldn’t fully see yet but the minute Bakugos arms wrapped around your frame you knew it was him.

You embraced each other for a few minutes, crying into each other’s shoulders as another pair of arms wrapped around the two of you as kirishima joined the group hug. After a few more minutes the boys pulled away, kirishima picked you up bridal style while Bakugo secured a safe path for your exit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Her wounds aren’t severe, just a few cuts and bruises. She did hit her head though, so expect a headache for a few days. With some rest and this-“ recovery girl stopped talking, pausing to reach in her bag to grab a small bottle of pain killers. “This will help the pain. Now now, I’ve got to run” she handed Kirishima the bottle of pills before packing up her bag and off to the next person.

Your two boys stood in front of you with tired, angry, yet relieved looks on their faces. More tired than anything. Kirishima was the first to speak, setting the pill bottle on the make shift hospital bed you were sitting on.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked, placing one of his arms next to you while the other supported him inbetween your legs. He gently rested his head on your shoulder, leaning over slightly as he gave your neck soft kisses. You sighed in content, mumbling a soft “mhm” in response.

“You had us worried there dumbass” Bakugo chimed in, taking the other place next to you and resting his head on top of yours. His big warm hand embraced your small one, rubbing his thumb over your bruised knuckles as he leaned his head against yours. You sighed in content, happy to be back with your boys. You melted into them, loving the warmth that came with being sandwiched between the two muscular hero’s.

You gave Bakugo a slow peck on the cheek as Kirishima nuzzled into you more, his hot breath hitting against your collar bone.

“Come on you two. Let’s get home” you smiled sleepily, holding your arms up for one of them to carry you. They both let out a chuckle at your whiny, sleepy, baby state. They were beyond tired but greateful that you were okay.

[pickalilywrites]

Can you please write a gabi x falco fic where gabi is slightly taller than falco (2-3 inches)? And she just finds various ways to tease him for this making him embarrassed. Maybe also have her carry him bridal style in the fic somewhere. I think it would be really cute, funny and wholesome! Thanks for considering my request! And aot shall be missed the end of an era.

Have a great day and God bless! All the best and take care! Happy writing! :))

thank you for asking for this ^^ it was fun to write. it took me a little while but i hope you enjoy it~

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

Taller Than You

Falbi. Canonverse.

8098 words.

Read on Ao3!

Falco can accept being beaten. He’s never been the strongest person or the fastest or the smartest. In all honesty, he’s quite average and while it’s frustrating to never place first or even within the top three of his class, he’s come to accept that some things are beyond his control. Yes, he can work hard and hope to someday surpass his peers and graduate at the top of his class, but he has to work twice as hard because he lacks the natural talent that others were lucky enough to be born with. It’s frustrating sometimes, but that’s just the way it is and Falco is fine with it for the most part.

It’s admittedly a little less easy for Falco to accept his inadequacy as a warrior candidate when Gabi flaunts all of her accomplishments in front of him. She’s accumulated so many badges over the years, little medals made out of cheap metal that were already rusting when they were given to her that she still proudly pins to the front of her shirts, that Falco has lost count of just how many she has.

Really, Falco knows it’s his own fault that his list of accomplishments pales in comparison to Gabi. He’s not as strong and hardworking as she is. If he’s average compared to his other classmates, then he’s completely inferior next to Gabi. He never says anything when Gabi brags about how she’s beaten the record for shooting practice, the previous record which had also belonged to her as well, or when she manages to receive a compliment from one of the most hard-to-impress instructors during a military drill course. He just bites his lip and suffers through Gabi shoving all of her accomplishments in his face. It’s what he deserves for being such a pathetic warrior-in-training.

Gabi really deserves to let her accomplishments be known anyway, Falco knows, and he does like to listen to her list every single one of her achievements. He likes the way her eyes light up when she talks about whatever record she broke, how her chest puffs up, and how she bristles with pride. It’s only right that Gabi be so proud of herself. She’s a Warrior through and through, a person destined to wield a Titan, and undeniably the worthiest candidate in their class.

It should, then, only be inevitable that Gabi surpasses Falco in the only thing that he thought he could beat her at: height. There had been warning signs. For years, Falco and Gabi had been around the same height with Falco always a centimeter or two taller than Gabi, but lately it seems like Gabi has caught up.

The last few months, Gabi was always the exact same height as Falco. Falco would always hold his breath during his physical exam. Whenever his height was taken, he’d stand to his full height, raising his head unconsciously as if that would somehow give him an extra centimeter or two only to have the nurse taking his height to smack him on the head and tell him to stand properly. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when Gabi had finally surpassed his height by a centimeter. After all, she had already managed to beat him at everything else, but Falco couldn’t stand for it.

“You can’t be taller than me,” Falco says, hating how high-pitched and whiny his voice sounds. He bites his lip and turns to the nurse that had just finished measuring Gabi and his eyes flit back to his friend. “It’s impossible.”

“Denial is the first step to acceptance,” Gabi says as she cheerfully pats Falco on the shoulder. She’s elated, not even trying to hide the smug grin on her face. “Although, you should just accept it. I’ve beaten you at nearly everything else, so shouldn’t this be easy to accept?”

It should be, but it’s not. Over the past months, Falco had dreaded the idea of Gabi growing taller than him. He refused to believe it could ever happen. He could never beat her at anything except her height, and he clung to that worthless achievement fiercely even as it became apparent that Gabi was hitting her growth spurt much faster than him. Falco finds the reality of Gabi being taller than him is actually much worse than just imagining it. It’s humiliating to be beaten at something he thought he had, but he realizes too late that Gabi’s height is beyond his control and he can only stand there in disbelief as she stands there, chin lifted proudly as she subtly flaunts her extra centimeter in front of him.

“Measure me again, please,” Falco practically begs as he tugs on the nurse’s sleeve.

The nurse eyes him tiredly and shakes his head. “Can’t you see I have to do the rest of your classmates?” he asks, gesturing to the line of kids who are still waiting to be measured. “It’s a centimeter difference. You’ll outgrow her in no time.”

That’s not soon enough, Falco wants to say, but he doesn’t want to sound like a brat so he bites his lip from saying any more. When he turns around, Gabi is giggling behind him with her smug expression still pasted on her face. If she smiles any wider, her face might crack.

He tries to keep his head held high even though all he wants to do right now is throw a fit over something as pathetic as a centimeter height difference.

“You heard him,” Falco says. His voice is still that strange high pitch that makes him cringe inwardly. He should probably shut up now before he makes himself look more like a fool, but he can’t help it. If he doesn’t say something now, it’ll be like admitting defeat. “I’ll grow taller than you soon. Just wait.”

The smirk on her face is infuriating. “Sure,” Gabi says, but it’s clear from the tone of her voice that she doesn’t believe him. “We’ll see.”

But much to Falco’s horror, he doesn’t grow taller than Gabi. His height seems to stagnate despite the fact that he’s eating more than usual. He doesn’t get any heavier either, which just makes it twice as frustrating. It’s as if the food he eats just disappears once it enters his mouth. What’s the point of eating, Falco wonders, if it doesn’t help him grow at all?

Gabi doesn’t seem to have that problem at all. She continues to grow. It’s effortless like everything else she does. First, it’s that one centimeter height difference. Then it’s a few millimeters more, the added height so small that it would be negligible if it were anyone else aside from Gabi. Suddenly, it’s a whole centimeter and a half, then two centimeters, and finally two and a half.

“How are you growing so much!” Falco asks, looking at Gabi in disbelief. He can’t understand how she continues to grow while his own height remains stunted. His parents had assured him that his growth spurt would come soon, but he’s almost certain they’re lying to him because the difference between him and Gabi keeps growing. “This is impossible.”

To the nurse who’s busy taking measurements, Falco says, “Measure me again.”

The nurse doesn’t even look at Falco when he responds. “I’m busy,” he replies. He’s given Falco that response consistently for the past six months. It makes Falco want to tear his hair out. “I don’t see why you’re worried about it all the time anyway. You’ll grow soon enough.”

Falco is about to open his mouth and argue with the nurse when Zofia and Udo drag him away.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Falco,” Zofia chides as she rubs Falco’s shoulder reassuringly. She sits him down at his desk where she begins to pat his head like one would do if they were comforting an upset child. “Girls usually get their growth spurt before guys anyway, so it’s only normal that Gabi’s taller than you right now. I’m getting pretty tall too. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m even taller than Udo.”

“Please don’t rub it in my face,” Udo says with a pained expression. He pulls out a chair and sits across from Falco, giving his friend a sympathetic smile. “She’s right, though, and so is the nurse. You start growing a lot soon. Me, too.”

“I want to grow taller now, “ Falco grumbles. He buries his head in his arms and sighs. Voice muffled, he asks, “What do I have to do to grow a couple centimeters taller?”

“Well, you could do some stretches,” Zofia suggests. She jumps back in surprise when Falco sits up and leans toward her.

“What stretches?” he asks. He scoots up to the edge of his seat, attentive.

“Oh, they’re just … they’re supposed to make you taller. I’ve only been doing them for a few months, but I’ve grown quite a bit in that time,” Zofia explains awkwardly. She looks around as if unsure if it would be appropriate to demonstrate in the classroom. Nobody is paying attention to them though. The rest of their classmates are either busy talking to each other or getting their height and weight measured and their instructor has left the nurse in charge of the class.

Udo purses his lips. “Why haven’t you taught me about these stretches?” he asks with a frown.

“You never asked,” Zofia replies, and Udo scowls at her.

“Well, what are they?” Falco asks a little impatiently. He stands up, ready to follow along with and memorize whatever instruction Zofia gives him.

“One of them goes like this,” Zofia begins and starts to demonstrate.

They’re easy stretches. Many of them are exactly like the ones that they do before they warm up for their physical training: stretching their arms above their head, twisting their torso back and forth, touching their toes, etc. Some are a little more unfamiliar to Falco: stretching your calves as you push against a wall, stretching your forearms and wrists, and hanging against a doorframe or a wall to stretch your shoulder and back muscles.

The key, Zofia explains while the boys do it half-heartedly, is to stretch enough to feel it in their muscles. If they don’t, then they’re doing it wrong. They also need to make sure to hold the stretches for an appropriate amount of time. It’s fine if they do it a little bit longer, Zofia tells them, but they absolutely need to make sure they hold each position for the minimum amount of time.

“And then you’ll grow taller in no time!” Zofia assures them cheerfully.

It’s working. At least Falco thinks it is, although he probably shouldn’t be so optimistic. It’s only been a few seconds after all, but he’s pretty sure he can feel his limbs lengthening as he stretches out his muscles. He’s stretching his arms when a question pops into his head that he hadn’t thought to ask before.

“Where did you learn about this anyway?” he asks Zofia.

It’s suspicious when Zofia doesn’t answer him right away. She avoids his eyes for a moment, looking up at the ceiling while she decides if she should respond. He gets a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as Zofia rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet and she nibbles on her bottom lip. It makes him want to take back his question immediately, tell Zofia that he doesn’t care about who taught these stretching exercises to her anymore, but it’s too late. Zofia is already opening her mouth to answer.

“Gabi,” Zofia answers quietly, but her reply seems to fill the whole room.

Behind them, a horrible cackle begins and Falco turns around, horrified, and sees that Gabi has appeared as if the mere mention of her name had been enough to summon her out of thin air.

“Doing stretches?” Gabi asks with the smuggest smile on her lips. It makes Falco want to scream. She does a few stretches too, stretching her arms above her head, but she does it lazily. It’s almost like she’s mocking Falco. “That’s a good idea, Falco. Maybe you’ll be able to catch up to me someday.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Falco snaps, but Gabi just laughs and he can feel blush bloom across his cheeks. He scowls at her and says, “Those stretches probably don’t work. I don’t need them to grow taller than you anyhow.”

He means it, he really does. He isn’t planning on doing any of the stretches. Even if he does grow taller than Gabi, he knows she’ll comment on how well her stretches worked with that same smug smile on her face. Still, he finds himself absentmindedly doing them when he gets home, figuring that it can’t hurt to try.

»»————-　★　————-««

Gabi always finds new ways to annoy Falco with her height. It seems she’s not satisfied with bringing it up during every physical evaluation. She has to rub her few extra centimeters of height in his face every chance she gets even if it’s in the most mundane of situations.

Sometimes the way she flaunts her height is horribly blatant. It’s in the snide comments she throws casually at him, asking him what the weather is like down there or apologizing for not hearing what he just said because it’s so hard to hear him from her height. It’s not even as if he’s that much shorter than her. There are plenty of other people in their class that are a lot shorter than Gabi, but she only ever directs her height-related comments towards him.

“Are you done?” Falco asks as Gabi pretends to check their heights again.

She’s standing right next to him, her chin lifted slightly as she compares heights with him. Her hand goes from the top of her head and shifts over just a few centimeters over Falco. He swears she’s exaggerating their height difference because her hand is angled when she moves her hand above his head, giving her a few imaginary centimeters over him.

“Just checking,” Gabi says cheerfully to him. She gives him a grin and leans toward him. He knows whatever it is she has to say next will make him want to stick his head out the door and scream at the top of his lungs. “Falco, do you want to know if you’ve grown any taller?”

“No,” Falco says almost immediately.

Gabi ignores him. “Well, you haven’t,” she says happily. She walks in circles around him, practically skipping. In a sing-song voice, she continues, “I’m still taller than you, much taller than you. You’ll never catch up now.”

Falco grits his teeth and balls his hands into fists.

Gabi is still talking. “It’s okay, though. I’m tall enough for the both of us.” She’s wandering towards the cabinets now. Falco is all too familiar with what’s about to happen next. He knows all of Gabi’s methods to incite his short-man syndrome. She throws open the cabinet doors and looks back at Falco with a dazzling grin. “I can help you with so many things. Do you want anything from the cabinet? I can reach it for you.”

“No,” Falco says, but he knows Gabi isn’t listening to him.

She’s humming as she scans the contents of the cabinet. It’s full of different school supplies, most of them already used before because they’re second-hand from the Marleyan schools. Her mouth shapes itself into a perfect O-shape as she sees something that catches her eye. Falco is about to roll his eyes until he sees what Gabi is reaching for.

Normally, Gabi reaches for things that are just within reach. Sometimes she even gets things from shelves that Falco can easily reach himself. Not this time. This time, she’s reaching for the shelf near the top where the worn-out textbooks are. It’s not something she can reach without standing on her tiptoes and really stretching really far.

With just a glance at this situation — Gabi and her bull-headed stubbornness, the cabinet with its rickety shelves, and the textbooks that are so worn-out that they could disintegrate with a touch — Falco knows that it’s a recipe for disaster. If there were even a chance of stopping Gabi, Falco would step in and try to convince her to stop, but he knows any effort to do so would be futile. He should walk away and let her reap the consequences herself, but he doesn’t. Against his better judgement, he remains and begins to hover behind Gabi.

“Gabi, you really don’t have to,” he says worriedly. His hands flutter pathetically behind Gabi, reaching out to catch her in case she falls.

“Don’t worry. At my height, this isn’t anything difficult,” Gabi says with a toss of her head even though she’s having difficulty. The shelf is so tall that she can’t really see what she’s doing. She has to grasp blindly for a textbook and her smile grows wider when she finally manages to grab hold of one. “Got it!”

As soon as she pulls it from out of its shelf, she stumbles back and loses her balance. Rather than allowing Falco to catch her, Gabi flails about trying to grab onto something, anything, to keep herself from falling. Her hand grasps onto one of the shelves and for a moment Falco thinks everything will be fine. Gabi is suspended there, hanging onto the shelf with one hand while an old, musty textbook is dangling in the other. A beat passes and then two and then a horrible crack is heard.

It happens in slow motion. Gabi’s weight is too much for the shelf and it slips out of the cabinet, coming away with her hand as she falls onto Falco and nearly crushes him. The already unstable cabinet begins to crumble. The top shelf goes first, falling away, and the textbooks that it held drop onto the other shelves which all collapse in turn. The entire cabinet falls apart, its contents spilling on the floor, and Falco winces when he hears Instructor Andreas bellow their names.

“Braun! Grice! What the hell did you two do?” The instructor’s shout can be heard clearly in the tiny schoolhouse and every student immediately freezes at the sound of his voice. It’s never a good thing when an instructor raises their voice, especially Instructor Andreas.

“J-just … getting some textbooks, s-sir,” Falco stammers. Gabi is still on top of him, her weight crushing his lungs, and he shoves her off, jabbing her in the ribs to signal her to apologize before they get into even more trouble.

Gabi grunts and sits up in a more respectable position. She brushes off some dust from her school uniform and at least has the sense to look apologetic as she looks at their teacher. “Sorry, sir,” Gabi mumbles and Falco repeats a clumsy apology beside her. “I should have been more careful.”

“You stupid Eldians can’t help destroying every damn thing you touch, can you?” Instructor Andreas snaps. He spits on the floor in disgust. It’s enough to make everyone nearby flinch. He looks up at the two troublemakers with a scathing glare and jerks his head towards the open door. “Go out there and finish a full circuit. Don’t come back until you do.”

Falco’s shoulders begin to slump. A full circuit is nearly an hour of drills that is sure to leave him sore when he wakes up tomorrow morning. He wants to complain, but he knows one word will just result in a heavier punishment. He should just do it and get it over with now.

He’s about to get up and offer Gabi a hand, but he sees she’s already standing and offering him a hand up. Falco hesitates, but he takes it and lets Gabi pull him up. He knows she’s going to say something about it once they leave the schoolhouse and get out of earshot of Instructor Andreas, but right now he just wants to get out of here as soon as possible even if it means he’ll have to put up with more of Gabi’s short jokes later.

As soon as they step out of the wooden cabin and onto the schoolyard it begins.

“No need to thank me for helping you up,” Gabi whispers to him. She’s so close to him that he can feel her breath hot against his ear. “It’s probably difficult for you to stand up on your own with those short legs of yours.”

Falco scowls at her and gets started on the full circuit before Instructor Andreas can stick his head out of the schoolhouse and yell at them for fooling around.

It’s an hour of grueling physical exertion. The first time he had ever done the circuit, he was ten years old and a new recruit for the Warrior-trainee program. He thought he would die five minutes in. The first part was running around the field, which would normally be bearable except for the fact that the schoolyard is filled with little bumps and holes everywhere. Although he’s learned the best footing when running around the field, his calves still burn as soon as he makes it a half a kilometer. He’s hardly improved from the first time he had run through the circuit.

Gabi catches up to him quite easily even though he’s had a head start. Unlike Falco, she doesn’t break a sweat. She’s practically smiling as she passes by him. It doesn’t surprise Falco. What most people find difficult, Gabi can do easily as if it were as simple as taking a breath.

By the time Falco’s finished running around the field twice, Gabi is already starting on the drills that accompany the circuit: push-ups, curl-ups, pull-ups, any exercise that will ensure that they won’t be able to move a single muscle tomorrow morning. She’s a little red in the face now, her hair falling out of its usual bun and sticking to the sweat on her forehead, but she’s not as out-of-breath as Falco. Somehow, she’s still smiling.

“I hope you know,” Falco huffs as he nearly collapses doing his first push-up., “that this is all your fault.”

“Nonsense,” Gabi says easily. He’s not sure how she’s able to form words so easily. She doesn’t seem winded at all. “I had everything out of control.”

“You broke the cabinet!”

“I got the textbook,” she replies contentedly as if this is all that matters. “Something you could never do on your own due to your lack of height.” She gets out of her push-up position and sits down on her haunches so that she’s looking down on Falco. With an impish grin, she reaches out to give Falco a condescending pat on the head. It’s just a light touch, but it’s enough to send Falco face-first into the ground.

Falco raises his head and splutters, spitting out the dirt that had gotten in his mouth. “I didn’t even need that textbook!” he coughs.

He regrets shouting as soon as the words leave his mouth. His raised voice attracts the attention of Instructor Andreas, who pokes his head out the door and sees Falco collapsed on the ground and Gabi taunting him.

“Braun! Grice!” the instructor growls. His harsh tone makes Falco flinch, but Gabi simply turns her head. “I thought I told you two to complete a full circuit, not play around.”

The two give him a weak apology that the man only scowls at.

“Don’t apologize to me. Save your energy,” the man snarls. He pounds the doorframe twice and then points at the field that Gabi and Falco had just finished running around. “Start over. Do the circuit properly or else I’ll make sure you’ll be running laps around the field until nightfall.”

Immediately, the two get up and jog towards the field. Falco’s pretty sure he’s going to pass out halfway, but there’s no point in complaining about it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles to Gabi as they make their way to the field.

She glances at him, unbothered. “No worries,” Gabi says. She’s being uncharacteristically understanding, even jogging at the same pace as him. The two jog together in tandem for a few beats and Gabi speaks again. “Since you’re so short, it makes sense that you’d be short-tempered, too.”

Falco growls and speeds ahead, but he can still hear Gabi cackling behind him.

»»————-　★　————-««

Falco sits at the dining table shoveling as much food in his mouth as humanly possible. He’s not even taking time to savor the food. If he did, he’d probably notice that stuffing bread and mashed potatoes and carrots and chicken in his mouth all at once is a disgusting mishmash of flavors.

“Falco,” his mother says exasperatedly as he shoves an entire boiled egg into his mouth. “Can you at least chew your food?”

“No,” Falco garbles through the food in his mouth. A few crumbs fly from his mouth and onto the table. Falco doesn’t hesitate to wipe it away hastily with a napkin and wastes no time in shoveling yet another spoonful of mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth.

His mother only sighs. She gave up hope on managing her son’s eating habits long ago.

Doing stretches doesn’t seem to be working for Falco, so he has started a new strategy to grow taller: eating his family out of house and home. At first he thought it would be fine if he just took in as much dairy as possible. He’s heard it said that calcium is what makes a person grow, but he became impatient when he didn’t see results the next day and just decided to eat everything he could shove in his mouth. Has it made his eating experience much less enjoyable? Absolutely, but it’ll be worth it if he can grow a couple of more inches and finally overtake Gabi in height.

“What’s happening here?” a familiar voice says. Falco lifts his head to see his older brother Colt walk over with a puzzled look on his face.

It’s been a while since Falco has actually seen his brother at home. After being chosen as the successor of the Beast Titan, Colt had been put on a more intensive training regimen that often started early in the morning before the Grice family was even awake and ended late into the night when everyone had long gone to bed. The only time Falco ever really sees his brother is on the training field with other soldiers when their training schedules coincidentally align. Falco thinks it’s the first time he’s seen Colt at home during the day since he was named Commander Zeke’s successor.

“He’s eating everything in the house,” their mother grumbles because Falco’s mouth is full of food and can’t speak right now. “The rest of us will starve at this rate.”

“That’s fine. Training really makes you hungry,” Colt hums. He shrugs his bag off his shoulder and lets it fall to the floor with a thud. He grabs an empty plate and cutlery from the cabinet and joins his family at the table. Colt is about to help himself to some dinner but he takes a glance at Falco’s plate, which is filled with a mountain of food. He raises an eyebrow. “I know you’re at that age where you eat a ton but isn’t this … a bit much?”

Falco swallows the food in his mouth and it slides slowly down his throat. He’s afraid it gets stuck halfway and begins to cough. He pounds at his chest with one hand and reaches for his glass of water on the table with the other, nearly knocking it over because he isn’t looking. Falco nearly has to down the entire glass before the lump of food is able to slide down his throat.

“Please chew,” his mother practically begs.

Falco ignores her. “I have to … eat more,” he pants. He’s beginning to taste the food on his tongue now, and it tastes terrible. It’s too sweet and too salty and there’s a weird film on his tongue. He gulps down more water before shoveling more food in his mouth.

Colt raises his eyebrows again. Since he hasn’t been able to speak to his family for a while, he’s missed out on quite a lot, including Falco’s current problem with Gabi and his height. His mother is kind enough to fill Colt in.

“He’s convinced that eating more will help him grow taller,” their mother tells Colt. She sits with her back against her chair and her arms crossed against her chest. Her eyes never leave Falco as she speaks. “There’s a girl that’s taller than him.”

Colt watches Falco, his head tilted to the side. “Isn’t it normal for the boys to be shorter than the girls at this age?” he asks. He thinks for a moment as he tries to recall what it was to be Falco’s age only a few years ago. “I think I was shorter than most of the girls in my class when I was your age, too.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him!” Mrs. Grice says. She gives Falco a withering look, but her son is too busy eating to notice. “He’ll catch up to them in no time at all. Eating everything in sight won’t necessarily make you grow any taller, Falco. Just eat normally and you’ll get your growth spurt before you know it.”

Colt continues to observe his little brother. He rests his elbow on the table and his cheek in his hand. “Are you really upset that the girls are taller? I’m sure the other guys in your class have already accepted it.” His fingers tap against the table as he thinks. After a moment, he stops and sits up with a suspicious expression. “Unless you’re upset because it’s not because it’s the girls but because of one girl in particular.”

Falco stops eating to glare at Colt. He means for his glare to look menacing, but he probably just looks ridiculous with his cheeks full of food like an overstuffed chipmunk.

The corners of Colt’s mouth quirk upward in a grin. “I’m right, aren’t I?” Colt says. He looks far too amused by this. “Is it … Gabi? It’s Gabi, isn’t it?”

“No,” Falco says with a mouthful of food. He manages not to spit out of any of it, but he kind of wishes he spit his food into his brother’s face. Colt looks as if he’s about to laugh about this whole thing, which only infuriates Falco more. How is any of this funny?

“How much taller than you is she?” Colt asks. He leans over the table with that same smile on his face, the one that says he finds all of this hilarious. “1 cm? 2 cm? 3?”

“She’s not,” Falco lies, but his voice comes out in a whine and he knows his face is scrunching up in a childish way. He wishes Colt hadn’t come home. “She’s not taller than me!”

“Okay, okay,” Colt chides. He starts to pile food onto his own plate and gestures for his mom to eat as well, probably deciding that it’ll be useless to talk to Falco about this topic any further.

The three eat together in relative peace — Falco still trying to eat everything in front of him without swallowing, his mother eating and occasionally rolling her eyes whenever she catches a glimpse of her younger son, and Colt eating normally as if this is a normal family meal. After a moment, Colt takes a brussel sprout from his plate and onto Falco’s. Falco doesn’t think much of it at first but then Colt drops another one onto Falco’s plate, then another one, and then another one.

Falco stops eating for a moment and looks at his brother. “What are you doing?” he asks after swallowing.

Colt stops what he’s doing and looks at his younger brother in surprise. “Me?” he asks as if he wasn’t sure Falco had been speaking to him. “I’m helping you, of course. Helping you grow taller.” He gestures at the brussel sprouts with his fork and then at Falco.

Falco wrinkles his nose. “With brussel sprouts?” It’s one of the few foods he’s been trying to avoid. While his plan is to eat everything, he does have his limits and brussel sprouts are one of them. He can’t stand them. They look like tiny little cabbages, but taste so much worse, their bitter taste lingering on Falco’s tongue long after he’s swallowed. He tries not to eat them as much as he can.

“Yeah,” Colt says. He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know? They’re chock-full of all sorts of nutrients: calcium, vitamin D, magnesium, and the like. It’s supposed to help with bone growth. Helps you grow taller. Didn’t they tell you that in school?”

Across the table, Colt’s mother mouths, “Really?” Falco doesn’t notice when Colt answers with a subtle shake of the head.

Falco looks sullenly at the little pile of brussel sprouts sitting in his pile of mashed potatoes. He pushes them around idly with his fork. “They didn’t mention it in my class,” he mumbles.

Colt shrugs. “You guys probably haven’t gotten into the diet and health unit yet. They really emphasize it in the Warrior Trainee program, especially once you get chosen as a Warrior.”

Falco looks suspiciously at his brother and then at the brussel sprouts on his plate. “Really?” he asks.

“Really,” Colt says. He seems sincere, and Falco doesn’t know why his older brother would lie to him. It’s true that Colt would know what foods to eat now that he’s a Warrior. He would know what foods are good for growth and keeping up someone’s strength.

Reluctantly, Falco spears a brussel sprout with his fork and nibbles at it. He shudders when the weird metallic taste hits his tongue. With a grimace, he puts the whole thing in his mouth, gives it a few good chews, and then swallows it down. It feels like slime moving down his throat. He has to finish the rest of his water just to rinse the taste out of his mouth.

“That’s disgusting,” he shudders, but he spears two more brussel sprouts onto his fork and eats them. It’s just as bad this time as it was before. He’s not sure how he’s going to finish the rest of these brussel sprouts without puking. He screws up his face as he takes another bite of the foul vegetable. “‘This is the worst!”

“Eat up, brother,” Colt hums, loading Falco’s plate with even more servings of the offensive food.

Their mother waves her hand to get Colt’s attention and gestures at the salted anchovies. “These, too,” she says. “Colt, make sure your brother eats these. Weren’t you telling me the other day that they were a good source of calcium?”

“Anchovies?” Colt says with a furrowed brow. Then, as if he’s just remembering, he nods and makes a noise in understanding. He begins to shovel the fish onto Falco’s plate right next to the brussel sprouts. “Ah, right. They mentioned it was a superfood, something that helps you grow taller overnight.”

“Really?” Falco wants to cry. He hates anchovies even more than brussel sprouts. They’re always too salty and too fishy, the taste overwhelming both his nose and his taste buds. He thinks he really is going to puke. He nearly cries as he lifts a spoonful of the little fish into his mouth and his entire body shudders when the salty taste hits his tongue. He’s practically sobbing as he goes for another spoonful.

After a few more horrible swallows of brussel sprouts and anchovies, Falco notices his mother and brother snickering behind their palms. His eating slows and he puts his spoon down.

“These … really aren’t superfoods, are they?” he asks flatly. He already knows the answer even before Colt nods his head. If Falco’s stomach didn’t feel as if it were about to burst right now, he would be flipping the table over in frustration. Instead, he just lets out an exasperated shriek and storms upstairs to his room.

“Where are you going, Falco?” Colt asks after him.

“You haven’t finished eating yet!” his mother calls.

Falco slams his bedroom door behind him in response.

»»————-　★　————-««

Falco should have figured that Gabi would soon grow tired of teasing him and that she would naturally progress to the next best thing: completely humiliating him in front of as many people as possible.

She still stands only a few centimeters taller than him, but the brunette acts as if she towers above him like a giant. Whenever they’re standing beside each other, Gabi looks down at him, lifting her head and standing as straight as she can without standing on her tiptoes. She stares her nose at him, that smug grin on her face each time. Falco always rolls his eyes and does his best to ignore him, but he finds it more and more grating each time.

Gabi constantly uses him as an armrest, letting her elbow settle on his shoulder or, if he happens to be sitting down, on the top of his head. More than once, he’s scowled at her before waving her away, but it only seems to amuse her even more because she always laughs whenever he does. Normally, it wouldn’t bother him. The additional weight of Gabi’s elbow isn’t much, but it’s the meaning behind the leaning that bothers him so much. It’s only slightly better to just allow her to use him as a piece of furniture, but not by much. He tries his best not to grumble about it each time because it only makes her grin grow wider.

What’s the absolute worst, though, is when Gabi pats him on the head. She does it so condescendingly with the sweetest smile on her face. Her touch is light, affectionate, and utterly humiliating. He’s waved her away once or twice, but she always finds a reason to put her hand on top of his head: because he has something in his hair, because his hair’s a mess, because his hair is so soft. It doesn’t matter how well-meaning her reason seems. Falco knows her real motive: to remind him of just how short he is by infantilizing him in whatever way she can.

“Oh, Falco,” Gabi says in a sing-song voice. She’s already looking at the top of his head, her hand reaching out to touch his hair. Her fingertips brush against his golden blond locks. “You have something in your hair-”

“No, I don’t!” Falco says, whacking her hand away. He regrets it immediately because now Gabi is standing over him, her hands behind her back and her lips curled in an amused grin.

“How would you know that?” Gabi says. She steps closer to him, hand still clasped behind her. “You can’t see the top of your head, can you? But I can easily because I’m-”

Falco doesn’t let her finish. He’s already heard it too many times before. “Whatever is in my hair, I’d rather it just … be there,” he says firmly.

Gabi stops smiling for a second and then blinks once. Twice. Her mouth spreads into a wide grin once again. “Aren’t you funny?” she coos. She reaches out to pinch Falco’s cheek. It doesn’t hurt, but Falco can feel his cheeks turning red just from her touch. “You don’t care if your hair’s a mess? Or is it really because … you hate how small this makes you feel?” Her hand finds its way to the top of Falco’s head, patting Falco like he’s a dog.

“So, you admit you’re doing this to humiliate me?” Falco asks. It comes out less indignant and more embarrassed, Falco’s cheeks still flushed in humiliation.

“Oh, please,” Gabi smiles. “I can do much worse.”

Falco should have run. He should have turned on his heel and taken off as far as his feet would take him. He knows that look on Gabi’s face, that knowing smirk and that mischievous glimmer in her eye, and he knows that whatever is to come next is absolutely no good. For whatever reason, he stays rooted to the spot even as his eyes widen in horror as Gabi reaches for him, her arms enveloping him right before she sweeps him right off his feet.

“What are you doing?” Falco yelps. He’s jostled around in Gabi’s arms, his chin bumping against her shoulder and then her head as she tries to find a comfortable place to hold him. Somehow, his arms find a way around Gabi’s neck as he hangs on for dear life. “W-what are you doing?”

“You must be so grumpy being so close to the ground all day,” Gabi says breezily. She’s carrying him like a bride and swinging him around like he weighs nothing. “The air is probably stuffy down there. Isn’t it nice being up this high?”

Falco is about to retort that the height she’s carrying him at right now is much shorter than his actual height, but he doesn’t get to because Gabi begins to spin around. He has to hang onto her for dear life because he’s afraid she might drop him. By the time Gabi’s stopped, his head is still spinning and he thinks he can see stars even though the sun is still out.

She lets him down gently, but Falco is still swaying as he stands. He holds his hand to his head as he begins to get his bearings. With a wince, he glances over at Gabi.

“Are you happy now?” he grumbles.

Gabi smiles at him. She rests her elbow on his shoulder and the corners of her eyes crinkle as her grin grows wider. “Very,” she replies.

»»————-　★　————-««

He can’t believe it. Falco really can’t believe it. He’s finally growing taller, but it’s still not enough to beat Gabi. It’s just enough to decrease the gap between them. It’s a one centimeter difference. One measly centimeter, but somehow it bothers Falco more than when Gabi had been two centimeters taller than him.

“Can you just …?” Falco says, stepping nervously behind the nurse who’s already getting ready to measure the next person in line. He glances away when the nurse glares at him, but tugs on the man’s sleeve anyway. “I mean … it’ll only take a second. Are you sure I’m not, like, maybe a centimeter taller than you measured? You were measuring me pretty quickly …”

“Kid,” the nurse says, turning to Falco with a sigh. The person waiting in line looks mildly annoyed at the holdup. “How many times do we have to go through this? You know the rules. I measure you once, and you go.”

“Yeah, but-”

The nurse shakes his head and waves his ruler, gesturing for Falco to leave. “I have work to do.” The man sees Falco’s downcast expression and sighs. “If you’re really bothered just … get shoes with taller soles or something. That’ll do until you finally hit your growth spurt.”

Falco walks away, his shoes dragging against the hardwood floor. “As if I have the money to get new shoes,” he mutters. He stops when he sees someone in front of him. He probably shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Gabi standing in front of him looking as smug as ever.

“Hi, Falco,” she chirps.

“It’s one centimeter,” he tells her. He’s glowering, but Gabi doesn’t even flinch.

“It sure is,” Gabi grins.

“It’s one centimeter!” he says. He doesn’t know why he’s following her as she’s happily skipping away from him, probably to inform all their friends and classmates that she’s still taller than him. He just wants it to be clear: it’s only a one centimeter difference. “It’s not that much taller than me!”

He hates the way she stops and spins around, the way she stands so self-satisfied, the way she smiles at him with her shit-eating grin.

“It’s still one centimeter taller than you,” Gabi says.

Falco hates that the most.

»»————-　★　————-««

When it finally happens, Falco’s not as happy as he thought he would be. In fact, he’s not happy at all. Instead of celebrating the fact that he’s now half a centimeter taller than Gabi, he’s hovering nervously behind the nurse once more.

“Just one more time please!” he begs, tugging on the back of the man’s shirt. He doesn’t even flinch when the nurse swats him away like a mildly annoying gnat. “Are you sure I’m not even a little bit taller? Maybe like … a half-centimeter taller or even a whole centimeter taller than what you just said?”

“You’re as tall as I say you are the first time and not any taller,” the nurse replies. He turns his head to glare at Falco and wags the ruler in front of the boy’s face. “Stop begging me for remeasurements. I’ll start shaving off a centimeter from your height every time you ask.”

“Sorry!” he squeaks before scurrying off to sulk behind Udo.

Udo watches Falco amusedly as the blond shuffles around and mumbles unintelligibly under his breath. “I don’t see why you’re so bothered,” he tells Falco. “You’re finally taller than Gabi, so what’s the big deal?”

“It’s not enough,” Falco sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at his golden locks irritatedly. “I’m finally taller than her, and she isn’t bothered at all! Just look at her!” He points a finger where Gabi is happily conversing with Zofia. Either she hasn’t heard the news or she doesn’t care. Considering the fact that she hardly even flinched when Falco crowed his new height measurement at the top of his lungs to the class, it’s most definitely the latter. Falco just doesn’t know why.

“... Maybe she just doesn’t know?” Udo guesses with a weak shrug of his shoulders.

Falco shakes his head. “No, she definitely knows.” He’s not so sure anymore. “R-right?”

Again, Udo shrugs.

If Gabi doesn’t know, then Falco needs to make sure she does. Maybe she hadn’t heard him the first time. Maybe she was too busy talking to Zofia to pay attention, Falco thinks as he marches over to where Zofia and Gabi are. Udo follows for moral support, but he sighs as he does because he knows Falco will never be satisfied with the outcome.

Only Zofia turns around when he reaches them. Gabi continues to speak to Zofia, not noticing that her other friends have joined them. It’s only when Falco clears his throat that Gabi stops speaking and looks over at him, eyebrows raised just the slightest bit like she’s feigning surprise.

“Oh, Falco,” she says, smiling delightedly. “Have you been there long?”

“I’m taller than you now,” Falco says, not even bothering to answer her question. He puffs out his chest as he says this, straightening his back to assert his newly achieved half-centimeter height difference over her. “I’m half a centimeter taller than you, in case you haven’t heard.”

To his surprise, Gabi’s smile doesn’t falter. On the contrary, it grows even wider, much to Falco’s horror. “So I’ve heard,” Gabi says. “Congrats, Falco. Good job on surpassing my height by half a centimeter. I’m really happy for you.”

“You … you are?” Falco deflates. His shoulders are slumped in disappointment. If Gabi were to stand up next to him right now, their height difference would be negligible. He had expected her to be infuriated that he had finally beaten her at something. It’s surprising that she hardly cares at all.

“Of course,” Gabi says with a shrug. She stands up, but she doesn’t straighten her back or even try to stand on her tiptoes. She just stands there, half a centimeter shorter than Falco but she carries herself so confidently that she might as well dwarf him. “Enjoy it while you can, Falco. I’ll catch up to you soon.”

He can only stare in open-mouthed disbelief as Gabi all but swaggers out of the classroom. “H-how?” he asks, running after her.

Gabi shrugs as if she hasn’t figured it out yet. It’s like she really doesn’t care at all.

Udo and Zofia have followed Falco and stand behind him as he clings onto the door frame with a frustrated hand.

“She could probably grow on sheer willpower alone,” Zofia says as she pats Falco’s shoulder sympathetically.

“Probably,” Udo agrees.

Falco sighs, leaning against the doorframe. He should just give up now. He could grow a full meter taller than Gabi, but he’d still never catch up to her. Never, he thinks with a smile.

[astralaffairs]

How do you think Phillip would handle an anxiety attack/depressive episode? As someone with depression, I experience these a lot and having someone there with me is nice

hey honey!! i empathize w u 100% — I've struggled w/ depression for years. that said, i kinda struggled w this, since having ppl with me when i go thru depressive episodes can be difficult for me, so i'm super sorry if this doesn't 100% reflect your experiences!!! as much as ik where you're coming from, i think my own perspective n experiences kinda colored how this turned out (also it got v long n self indulgent oops)

-----

"Hey, princess, you around?" Your eyes widened at the words, echoing down the hall of your apartment from your living room. "Y/N?"

You didn't respond at first, weren't sure what to say. You liked hearing the sound of his voice; it was a comfort in itself, but you also weren't sure whether you wanted him to find you in your room, still in bed in your pajamas, your now-empty bag of Fritos perched on the pillow beside you. You almost regretted giving him a key. You were exhausted — it was no secret for anyone who caught a glance of your half-lidded stare, the bags under your eyes. You were propped up against a pillow at the headboard, but you were still slouched over into your bent knees, curled into yourself.

You could see that he'd flipped the kitchen light on, its furthest reaches flooding the hall toward your bedroom. You wondered whether that'd mask the light coming from your room.

Your phone lit up beside you, but you couldn't see what the message you'd received actually said. It was instead filed under the notification, 'Pip 🥺💞: 7 unread messages.'

You reached over to put your phone on your bedside table, but when you did, your bed creaked loudly. You winced at the noise. Apparently, it also catalyzed the footsteps that'd stalled in your front room to kick back into action, now headed in your direction.

"Baby?" His voice was laced with concern, now. "You back here?"

When he reached your room, he raised an eyebrow, knocked lightly on the doorframe, and you sighed. "Hey, is everything okay? Can I come in?"

You didn't respond immediately, hesitant to speak for fear of him hearing the apathy that you knew had taken root deep in your voice. Eventually, after a long moment of apprehensive silence, you said, "Yeah. Yeah, of course you can."

How quiet, tired your words sounded only heightened the worry in his knit brow. His actions were tentative as he approached you. Your body was tense as he took a seat at the foot of your bed. "What're you doing in bed? It's almost 6 PM."

"What, I'm not allowed to be in bed in my own apartment?" Your voice was unnecessarily combative, and his eyebrows shot up at the sudden hostility.

"I didn't say that. Of course you are," he replied, and how gentle his tone was had you immediately struck with a pang of guilt. "But your laptop's off, and I know you've been silencing your phone. I just mean... genuinely, what have you been doing in here?"

You shrugged halfheartedly, not meeting his eyes. "I dunno. It's my day off; I don't have to be productive all the time, Philip." Again, when you spoke, it was accusatory, and Philip pursed his lips.

"Did I do something? Are you angry with me?"

Being branded as 'angry' usually would've multiplied your frustration tenfold — no, you weren't angry, but he'd showed up at your apartment unannounced and proceeded to question your lazy evening in; didn't you at least have a right to be annoyed? — but his searching gaze looked so troubled when it met yours that you couldn't bring yourself to be. Ultimately, you shook your head.

"No, you didn't. I just..." When you trailed off, you'd intended to finish the sentence, but you realized you didn't have a decent explanation to offer him. He sighed.

"Something's wrong. Talk to me; c'mon." You didn't say anything, and he scooted across your mattress to sit beside you, discarding your empty, crinkled snack bag to the floor. "Y/N?"

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine," you murmured, and though you offered him a tired smile, he frowned.

"Hey, no you're not." When he reached for your hand, you flinched, more due to instinct born of the tension in your bloodstream than to any real intention. Nonetheless, it took him aback. He was about to pull away, but when you relaxed, he laced his fingers tentatively into yours. You didn't rebuke him. "Y'know I'm here for you, right?"

The smile you managed to contrive at that was, in your opinion, more convincing than your previous one. "I know, baby. I love you. But really, I'm doing alright. I've just been tired today; I wanted to come take a nap. Sorry if I'm being grumpy."

You thought your words would've assuaged his concerns; they had with everyone who'd heard them before. However, Philip let out a heavy breath, shaking his head. "Please, don't bullshit me. I know you too well for that."

Your light laugh in response felt like an adequate supplement, and you squeezed his hand. "Relax. I'm not bullshitting, okay?"

You held firm on your smile as he eyed you warily, and when he leaned over to kiss you, you relished in the touch, eyes fluttering shut as his nose skimmed your skin. He didn't pull all the way away, though, resting his forehead against yours.

His lips met your cheek, and against your skin, he whispered, "Stop hiding. I love you, and you're only worrying me more."

He took your chin in his free hand as he pulled just inches away, watching carefully when your eyes widened. "C'mon, what makes you think—?"

"I know you." He cut you off firmly, the words leaving little room for protest or contradiction. You didn't like how exposed you felt. "And I can tell that something's seriously wrong."

A moment passed in silence; your eyes darted across his expression, searching for any degree of uncertainty, but he was set fully in his convictions. You bit your lip. "Okay," you finally said, voice tiny. "I... I'm sorry, Philip."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I just want you to be honest with me." He reached up to smooth his hand over your hair, it eventually coming to rest at the nape of your neck. You nodded.

"I know." You ran your thumb over his knuckles, staring down at where your hands were interlinked. "But... I don't know what to tell you. Nothing happened, and there's nothing you can fix."

"Then what isn't okay?" he asked. "What can you talk to me about? What's weighing on you?"

How earnest his voice was only left you frustrated, sitting beside him with no answer to give. "I don't know what to tell you. I'm what's been ruining my day."

"What d'you mean?"

You huffed, tried to pull your hand away as you turned your head, struggling to articulate anything. You felt stupid; you knew whatever would come out of your mouth would sound stupid. But he didn't let your hand go, and you found yourself easing back toward his body.

"This whole day has just... it's been so fucking hard. And I haven't even done anything. I'm still in bed, for god's sake; I've been useless." Your own words made your skin crawl. You sounded so whiny; why couldn't you form a thought without coming off as pathetic?

"It's your day off, right? Why should you be productive?" he echoed your own words back to you with a kind smile, and your involuntary resentment eased in the slightest.

"Thanks, Pip. But..." You swallowed. "I'm so tired. Everything I try to do feels so exhausting. The reason my laptop's still off is because trying to find something to watch was just... making me feel worse."

He nodded. "I'm sorry." You were momentarily disappointed when he released your hand, but that same arm then snaked around your waist, and he paused, not yet trying to pull you into him. "This okay?"

How gently, how tenderly he was treating you your fatigued gaze slowly softening. "Yeah." You shut your eyes when he held you close, leaning you into his body. He was so warm, and he was so good to you. "Love you," you murmured.

"I love you, too." The small, weak smile you gave was all but imperceptible when he kissed the top of your head. "So, what d'you think's going on, then? Are you getting sick? Do I need to take you to the doctor? Pick up some antibiotics?"

The concern in his eyes had returned when you glanced up to him once more, and you pursed your lips. "No, no, it's not... I don't need the doctor, or any ibuprofen, or whatever," you murmured, and your tone sounded more hopeless than you realized. You'd burrowed your face into Philip's side, by then, and you couldn't see it when he pursed his lips. The despair in his eyes was heavier than you'd have guessed.

"Alright, princess," he said quietly. When a beat passed, you thought he was going to leave it at that, but his voice was apprehensive when he continued. "Is there... something else you know that has you so spent?"

The noise of discontent you let out into his t-shirt was almost a groan. You weren't overly pleased with his hitting the mark, but after a long pause, you gave a small, weak nod. "Yeah," you whispered. "But it isn't something you can fix."

He didn't hesitate, then, to pull you into his lap, though the action caught you by surprise. Both his hands were holding you to him by the waist; you shifted in his grasp, turning to rest against his chest, your arms looped around his neck. "Then it's a good thing you aren't broken." You lifted your head from his chest, turning it to look up at him curiously, and one of his hands left your waist, instead coming to cup your cheek. "My sister's been dealing with depression for most of her life. I get that I'll never know what it's like, but if you're willing to talk to me, trust me when I say I won't take it lightly."

His thumb sweeped across your cheekbone as you stared up at him in surprise. He furrowed his eyebrows. "What's up? Was my assumption off-base?

At that, you let out a huff, surprised but no longer bitter. "No. You're just too perceptive for your own good sometimes; you know that?" you murmured, and he laughed. You could feel it reverberate in his chest against your body.

"Not too perceptive for your own good, though, apparently." He raised an eyebrow at you, expectant, and you rolled your eyes. When you didn't respond, he continued, "How come you never told me?"

"I don't know." You sniffed. "Depression's just so fucking stupid. Like, sorry, your brain chemicals are fucked up, so you're going to spend the next week rotting in bed. What kind of deal is that?"

The droll annoyance in your words made him smile. Anything was better than the apathy. "Really, princess, who comes up with this stuff?" he replied, mirth laced into his tone as he plastered on a look of annoyance. You cracked a small smile.

"I dunno, but I'd like to have a talk with them sometime. Give 'em a piece of my mind."

He laughed, absentmindedly rubbing circles into your lower back. "You should. Stick it to the man." The way he nodded decisively made you purse your lips, small smile threatening to widen into a watery grin. "But until then, is there anything I can do for you right now? What have you done today?"

You let out a heavy sigh against his body, with that, once again fully present in your wreck of a bedroom. "I showered, and I ate a family-size bag of chips."

"Hey, so you got out of bed." He nudged you with his shoulder, wearing an encouraging smile. "That's something, right?"

"Mmhmm. And then I got right back into bed," you huffed.

"Alright. What have you eaten today? Anything?"

You raised an eyebrow. "We just covered this. Family-sized bag of chips."

"That's not exactly a meal, baby," he said, and his furrowed brow made you scowl. "Hey, I don't mean to downplay that; I'm really glad you ate. I just wanna know if I can get you anything else."

You shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

"Is there any food that you'd eat right now if you had it in front of you?"

There was a pause; you didn't move, gaze blank as you considered it, but again, you shrugged. "I dunno. Chocolate sounds nice. But I don't need anything."

"You need to eat."

"That's so unhealthy," you said quietly. Just your single day's worth of poor eating habits had you feeling beyond lousy about your body; you had no desire to see a mirror until at least the next day.

"What's unhealthy is letting yourself starve, princess." You rested the side of your head against his chest once more, having no desire to meet his eyes. You didn't want his stare to be judgmental.

"'M not starving," you mumbled, and one of his hands rose to the back of your head, holding you close as you leaned into him.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," he whispered, and his thumb brushed across the skin of your neck. "Relax. I love you. I can go and get you anything you want to eat."

"No, no, don't leave. Don't leave me," you murmured, and your hold on him tightened. "Just stay with me. Please. I'll deal with everything I've been neglecting in the morning."

He sighed. "Baby, you know I want to, but I'm worried about you. Someone's gotta take care of you if you aren't gonna take care of yourself."

"Later." You looked up at him, and he could see your distress in your gaze. "I promise, Philip. I'm just so tired. Just wanna stay in bed. Want you here with me."

"Okay." He kissed your forehead. "Okay, I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?"

"I promise, princess."

[mithranqueersmusings]

I Think I'll Love You Too II

Chapter: 2/?

Rating: U

Summary: George and Ringo have been going out officially for a couple of months. Ringo anticipated that dating a stripper would be complicated, but he didn't understand exactly how complicated it would be.

Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The following clean-up from their nocturnal experiment was far from easy, the wax seemed to crumble into tiny pieces and was determined to cover each inch of the carpet. George was insistent on doing most of the work, a struggle of manners ensued in which Ringo was adamant that he should help but eventually gave in and took up George's offer to relax in the bath.

Soaking in the warm water, Ringo's mind began to wander to their first official date. It seemed like such a long time ago now, although it had only been a couple of months at the most. Ringo could vividly picture arriving at George's house for the first time and picking him up for dinner, bruises still dotted across George's pale skin from the somewhat embarrassing but retrospectively rather comical fall at the club. Ringo had struggled to figure out the best place to take George, unfortunately the only advice available was John's.

"He's a vegetarian." Ringo emphasised for the fourth time, John had once again offered up a meat-only establishment.

"Oh, well you could've told me sooner." John scoffed, sometimes Ringo couldn't tell whether he was joking or truly that oblivious.

"What about sushi? That can be veggie, right?" Ringo was fiddling with a bouquet of flowers that had been left on John's kitchen counter, a small card had the name 'Paul' written on it, punctuated with a kiss.

"Sure." John offered "You could always, and hear me out, ask where he wants to go."

Ringo rolled his eyes "Great advice John, thanks. What if he doesn't know either?"

"Then you're both helpless and you belong together."

In the end Ringo had settled on sushi, which only calmed his panic somewhat because he still had to find which sushi place was best. He'd forgotten all about how stressful dating could be, and it'd been a long time since he'd been a proper date. Eventually he settled on a fairly affordable place that wasn't too far from his house, he felt rather silly calling up to make a reservation an hour in advance but he didn't want to risk embarrassing himself by not having a table booked.

This struggle with the restaurant left Ringo only an hour to get himself looking presentable for the date, his closet was emptied onto the floor and bed as he rummaged around for something suitable. He felt like making more of an effort than usual, this was one date he didn't want to screw up, especially knowing how fashionable George was likely to look. In the end he settled on a paisley blazer, it had been a gift from John years ago and had hardly been worn, and a black shirt underneath which he experimented with the buttons of.

He left himself just enough time to brush his teeth, sort out his hair and tidy the room as quickly as he possibly could. Hurrying over to George's in the car, he'd almost forgotten to be nervous about the date itself. Almost forgotten, because as soon as he knocked on George's door Ringo felt a wave of dread washing over him. He hadn't even thought of any conversation starters, or what he was going to order at the restaurant. As he waited for an answer, the dread only festered further. Yet once the door finally opened, revealing George draped in a decorative kimono, all fear subsided.

"Hi." Ringo spoke, suddenly sheepish.

"Hey." George replied with a grin, stepping out onto the street and locking the door behind him.

The two of them looked at one another for a few moments, eyes tracing from head to feet with no words being said. George was wearing makeup: his eyes darkened with liner and mascara, his gaunt cheekbones sparkling with highlight and his lips painted a tempting shade of red. Ringo could see that he'd tried to use foundation to cover over the bruises on his face but it wasn't entirely successful, not that it mattered.

"You look great." Ringo managed to get out without stumbling over his words as they walked over to his car.

"Thanks, so do you." George responded but Ringo supposed he was only trying to be polite.

Passing a shop window, Ringo stole a glance at the reflection and found himself presently surprised at how good the two of them looked together. Ringo was even beginning to believe George's compliment, a surge of confidence arising merely from being stood next to George. He'd anticipated that George would only make him look worse, but there was something complimentary in how the two of them were dressed. It was a small boost that Ringo needed to quash his nerves, he was determined to not ruin the night just because he was feeling anxious.

"So... Where are we headed?" George asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Sushi." Ringo replied more curtly than intended "Is that alright?"

"I love sushi." George answered cheerily.

"What a relief." Ringo chuckled "I'm not gonna lie I was struggling to find a place to eat, with you being a vegetarian and all."

George paused for a moment "You remembered that?"

"Of course I did." Ringo panicked for a moment, afraid he'd said the wrong thing and given too much away but the smile that spread across George's painted lips calmed him back down.

It didn't take them long to arrive at the restaurant, it was rather busy but not so much that it would become uncomfortable. Ringo still couldn't believe his luck, that he'd actually been able to get a date with George. Looking back on how their relationship started, it was strange to consider that they'd end up here.

"Is your face alright?" Ringo asked when they'd been seated, it was hard to not notice the swelling on George's lip.

"Oh yeah, it's fine." George provided evidence with a genuine smile "I've had way worse, don't worry."

"You fall over a lot then?" Ringo joked, looking down at the menu and feeling a little intimidated by the amount of choice.

"Only when I know you're there to catch me." George winked "No, I've had my fair share of scraps here and there. That's just life, isn't it?"

Ringo chuckled "Not in my line of work, no."

"Don't be so modest, I haven't forgotten when you beat up that creep in the club." George was studying his menu with far less fear than Ringo "Any idea what you're gonna order?"

"Haven't the faintest." Ringo read the same words over and over again as though it'd help him understand "What about you?"

"Hmm, I think so." George answered with a confidence Ringo envied "Want some help?"

"Please." Ringo smiled sheepishly, laying down his menu and looking to George for assistance.

The date was hardly going as Ringo had anticipated, but while George went through dishes on the menu with a clear expertise Ringo couldn't stop himself from smiling. The intimidating Spike was describing in detail the difference between maki and temaki with such delicacy, it was such a strange moment of realisation for Ringo that made him truly understand how far they'd come. Ringo realised too late that he hadn't been listening to what George had been saying but it didn't matter in the end because George ordered for the both of them.

"So..." George began, drink in hand.

"So." Ringo repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"How long have you been waiting to take me out?" George asked with a knowing smile.

Ringo half expected this line of questioning to begin, he only wished he'd prepared some answers "Does it make a difference?"

"I'm just curious." George leaned in a little closer, a devilish look in his eyes.

Ringo sighed "Now I'm debating whether to lie so you don't think I'm a loser."

"I wouldn't bother with that, I already know you're a loser Ringo." George spoke deadpan, staring without expression then burst into laughter "I'm sorry, I had to."

"And that's meant to encourage me to be honest?" Ringo laughed nervously.

"Come on, tell me." George sounded almost whiny, a tone Ringo had heard before but never in regular conversation.

"Fine, fine." Ringo conceded after drinking his beer "In all honesty it was probably the first time I saw you... Not that I thought you'd ever say yes, of course."

The answer seemed to satisfy whatever itch George had "Really? I'm that good looking am I?"

"Not to sound cliché, but have you seen you? I don't think I've seen anyone more attractive." Ringo spoke somewhat seriously.

George blushed just slightly, having to look away from Ringo's intense gaze "You're sweet. But why were you even in the strip club in the first place? You didn't seem too at home, at least from what I remember."

Ringo felt rather complimented that George even remembered how he'd been acting all that time ago, he'd always supposed he hadn't left much of an impression at all and whatever he did was surely negative.

"John dragged me there. He, uh-" Ringo stopped himself before saying too much "Thought it'd cheer me up."

George squinted his eyes in suspicion "What aren't you telling me?"

Ringo paused, debating the best verbal exit strategy but the good beer and even better food was slowing his thought processes "Uh... Nothing?"

"Oh come on." George kicked Ringo lightly under the table "You think I'm gonna judge you?"

"Well, yes... But fine, I'll tell you." Ringo chuckled, pausing for an anticipatory breath "I'd been going through a bit of a... dry spell, so to speak."

A grin spread across George's face "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Ringo repeated, hiding his shame behind his beer.

"I find it hard to believe that you were having a 'dry spell'." George rested his hand on Ringo's own, his finger tracing around the metal of the rings.

"Well, I'd, er- I'd still be having one if you hadn't come along." Ringo stammered "Shit, that sounds really pathetic, doesn't it?"

"Just a tad." George smiled reassuringly "I'm just glad I could be of service."

"For a while you were making it worse, actually." Ringo had finished his beer and was itching for another "With all my pent up frustration and then I see you undressing on that stage, I nearly lost my mind."

George chuckled, looking rather proud of himself "I can only apologise for being so tempting." He emphasised the word by running his tongue over his top lip onto his sharp canine tooth.

"No need to apologise, it's your job after all." Ringo tried to remain composed "And in the end it all worked out so... No harm done."

"My aching body disagrees." George pouted his still somewhat swollen lip.

"Well... That was your own fault really." Ringo joked, finally catching the waiter's eye so that he could order another beer.

"You're right, you're right." George's hand was still pressed against Ringo's "Hopefully from here on out all the pain will be consensual."

Ringo blushed "Hopefully."

Later that night it was clear that there was no longer any need to be hopeful.

[gainaxvel3o]

A Miraculous Tale of Rubybug and Cat Blake Chapter 5

Previous / First / Next

Watts up, Doc?

“Two of my pawns have been taken out of the board.”

Monarch paced around the room. Her face was framed by the purple light coming from the little butterflies surrounding her. Nooro’s magic felt wondrous to be around, intoxicating in it’s warmth, even corrupted by dark desire. “Tyrian Callows nearly succeeded in killing the champions,” Monarch spoke. “His pride got to him, but if trained well he would have made a proud Huntsman for me. The downside of involving the police in affairs. They let a body go to waste.”

She felt a shiver down her body. Poor Nooro… he continued to fight against her even knowing he didn’t have a chance. Such a small, whiny, pathetic little thing. Behaviors more suited to children than an ancient powerful being that of creation. Many myths would be destroyed by simply observing the Kwamis.

“I will need someone smarter. Wiser. A person susceptible to my power, who will be able to calculate the most efficient path to success.”

She closed her eyes. Butterflies were everywhere in the city, dismissed by most as just little flying insects interrupting their path. They didn’t know the butterflies could hear the whispers underneath their breath, the thoughts they hold back every waking moment…

Her eyes flashed red, her sclera briefly turning black.

“Yes… he will bring me the Miraculous!”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The first thing Blake Belladonna did when she woke up was brush her teeth.

The second thing she did was inspect her eyes in the mirror. She noticed the small circles forming under them. It had been difficult for her to find sleep for any given week. It only got worse since the other day, when she fought alongside Ladybug, against Scorpio.

“YOU TOOK AWAY MY POWER! I WAS SCORPIO! I AM SCOR-“

A loud ringing noise.

There was no peace in his eyes. Only shock.

“If you move then you’re gonna end up like him. Get down!”

“NINJA VANISH!”

Blake had heard about incidents like these. The police firing when they didn’t need to, against someone they shouldn’t have. Tyrian Callows was a murderer. There should be no guilt in his death. Even so, being in the moment when it happened, the bullet firing… that caught her off guard.

She wondered about Ladybug, imagining if her lady was having nightmares like she did. She wondered how she was able to cope with the death of a man, even if it wasn’t her fault.

“What’s been buggin’ you, gloomy cat?” Blake sighed. “Plagg.” “You gonna tell me?” The little cat Kwami grinned wildly. “Do I gotta be a bad kitty?”

“Do what you want. It is irrelevant to me.”

Blake swiped some locks of her hair away from her face. She closed her eyes, breathing in. “I hope Ladybug is okay. The fight the other day was intense.” “No need to worry. Tikki picks her champions well. No doubt she’s bounced back and ready to go, good as new as can be.”

“That’s a relief.”

It was. Ladybug came across as naive and nervous every time Blake met her. Skilled yes, but nearly always in trouble every time Blake arrived. Blake admired the girl’s spirit, but knew that she would need plenty of help. So long as Ladybug needed her, Chat Noir would be happy to serve.

Blake drank the water from the sink and spat it out. She took out a small tube, bringing out the pills and swallowing them.

“Plagg?” “Hm?”

“Why are the Miraculouses so special?” “They have us, pretty sure that makes them special.” “Chadwick. Scorpio. Both of them wanted our Miraculous. What would he need ours for?” “Ah… Yeah I should tell you.” Blake’s eyes snapped open. “You didn’t think it was important before?!” 

“No you’re right, let me explain.” Plagg said. “Tikki and I, we’re the Kwamis of Creation and Destruction. When we’re together we can accomplish miracles beyond anything mortal can imagine.”

“Like… genies?”

“Yeah, but we’re not bound by rules the way those twerps are. Whoever’s the boss has Nooro and probably wants Tikki and I to fulfill a wish.” “Hmmm…”

Blake shook the little rube in her hand. Her eyes narrowed a little. “So you could grant any wish right?” “Probably. Why, you gonna swipe the earrings?” “I won’t.” “Then why the question?” Blake hesitated, before deciding to risk it. 

“I’m just wondering if they could…” She shook the tube. “You know, make it so I don’t have to take these?” She had only rarely seen Plagg get serious around her. His mischievous smile gave away to a frown, contemplating her question. “It could do that yeah. You’d probably feel more comfortable without ‘em. Thing is, the type of magic we are… the wishes we grant come at a cost. In order to get a thing, something has to be given back.”

“Equivalent exchange…” Blake sighed again. “Nothing is ever free is it?” “I wish it were so, gloomy cat.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The corridors made Blake feel uneasy.

There were just so many… people. Students, teachers, employees… Blake tried to ignore them. She tried to ignore the noises and small talk that could be heard down the hallway; she tried not to look for any mention of her name that came with disgust or insult; no matter what she did, the feeling of anxiety came with her. At last, Blake glanced around trying to catch someone. Anyone. 

Nothing came. Nobody did.

It was silly. Nobody knew her, she was practically invisible to the crowd. They were too wrapped up in the hum and drum of their own lives to think anything of her. Even so, Blake felt uncomfortable. Even if she knew, logically, that no one stared at her, that no one knew her, she felt as if any moment somebody would jump out and call her by name, revealing her to the world. 

To her relief, no one did. Blake shuddered. College was supposed to be a fresh start for her. In many ways, it was exactly what she needed. Even though she walked into the room late, no one batted an eye. She took a seat behind her (so far) best friend, with no one the wiser.

“Mornin’ Blakey,” Yang winked at her. “Had trouble rollin’ out of bed?” If Plagg and Yang ever met, they’d probably make a great team. Blake thanked the universe they haven’t. Yet.

“My sleep schedule isn’t your concern Yang.” Blake placed her bag underneath her seat. “What’s the lesson for today?”

“Oh it’s just the doc rambling off. You haven’t missed much.”

“You will be missing something, Miss Xiao-Long.” The teacher twirled his brown mustache. “Your grade, if you keep speaking out of turn.” Yang narrowed her eyes in contempt before yawning. Dr. Arthur Watts was the type of man to carry himself with great self importance. His lab assistant, a man with green hair and glasses larger than his own eyes, fidgeted behind him. A machine lied in the middle of the table, a metal skeleton, the body split as if it was reaching for it’s toes.

“As you can see, students,” Dr. Watts spat out, “We’re supposed to be studying history. What better demonstration of history can there be, than actively participating in it?” “D-doctor,” Bartholomew Oobleck, the doctor’s assistant, stuttered while he sipped his coffee. “I must insist this to be a terrible idea! The prototype isn’t even out of testing stage!” “Nonsense. Activate the machine!”

Oobleck, against his better knowledge and wisdom, pressed the button on the robot. The almost sinister sounds of beeps and smoke rising were heard across the room, the metal skeleton raising itself up. It stared at the students, freaking them out with it’s slow deliberate patterns. Arthur Watts grinned.

“My machine was rejected for being an inferior product,” He said to the room. “As you can see, it is clearly nonsense. Wave at them my robot!”

It did so, mimicking the human action of waving hi at people to the best of it’s ability. However, everyone could see smoke rising from the machine’s head. A minor explosion was heard, the skeleton head twisting, turning and churning before falling to the floor, sending nuts and bolts flying around the room.

“A… minor setback.” Dr. Watts said finally. “But if I can make it work then I’ll finally be able to ascend to the scientific community! No more classes for me with idiotic, inattentive students at least!”

There was a moment of silence among the students who weren’t quite sure what to make of this display. Blake raised a hand up.

“Yes Miss Belladonna? Who I may remind you all was late to this lecture? Would you care to voice your objections?”

Blake was keenly aware of the chuckles from behind and in front of her. She put them aside. “I was late, I’ll try to keep that in check.” Blake said. “However, while this… experiment looks rather interesting, aren’t we supposed to be learning about American history?” Indignant at the response, Dr. Watts turned to his assistant, who was whispering little curses to himself. He was on his own for this. “But you are!” Dr. Watts shouted. “You’re participating in our experiment!” “Would it not be better to do it in an actual lab?” Blake said. “With actual doctors checking on it? Not in a classroom where we’re supposed to be learning something else entirely? No wonder you haven’t been certified yet, you’ve been very unprofessional.”

Laughter came. Not at Blake, but at the incompetent doctor she had to remind herself. Dr. Watts blushed furiously.

“A once in a lifetime opportunity…” Dr. Watts pouteed. “-and you throw it away?!?” “I told you this would happen Arthur,” Oobleck tried to reason. “Maybe we can open up the textbooks and get back on track, there’s still an hour-“

But the doctor wasn’t hearing any of it. He grabbed his coat and marched out of the room, ignoring the laughter of, in his mind, infantile ignoramus adults. “BAH! If this how they act then they are not worthy of me.”

The door slammed shut. Watts would complain to the Headmaster later. The stupid woman gave him an inattentive classroom. He brought out a cigar. 

“Stupid children, stupid Oobleck. I’m supposed to be a genius scientist but… graaargh! I’ll get revenge at some point.”

Arthur twirled his mustache, feeling something on his shoulder. He turned to see that what landed was a small butterfly.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Oobleck looked around not sure what to say. The students erupted into conversation, completely ignoring the green haired man. Any chance of a normal class had died when Watts left the room.

“Whoah Blake.” Yang whistled to her friend. “That was awesome.” “Not really.” Blake waved it off. "An idiot is a hot air balloon that needs to be popped, less they fly off into space and have it’s occupants freeze to death.” “Isn’t space a vacuum though?” Blake rolled her eyes.

“You okay though?” Yang asked. “You seem a bit tense.” Perceptive. Blake cursed in her head coming up with an excuse.

“I didn’t sleep well, so I’m a bit on edge.” Blake supposed that would do. “How did this guy end up a teacher, let alone our teacher?” “Ah, you missed that part of the opening act.” Yang said. “Dude apparently got fired from his old job, so Salem brought him here as a favor. Since every other position was filled he had teach history since he had the degree for it.”

“Ah, that does explain it. Salem is a nice person.” “Yeah, too nice.” Yang slumped on the table, resting her head on her shoulders. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but she should be more careful with who she picks ya know?”

Blake nods. “I suppose so.”

‘Then again.’ She thought. ‘If it weren’t for her… why I be allowed here?’

“Anyway,” Yang continued. “Wanna skip class? Ruby’s got some designs she wanted to show me, and I’m getting the distinct impression the teacher won’t be coming back.” “Maybe…” She felt her ring vibrate. “Um, maybe not today.”

“Oh come on we haven’t even hung out yet!”

“I’m sorry it’s just that I remembered something and-“

The door was suddenly kicked down. Blake and Yang turned their heads bewildered ash the sight.

“Hello children!” A raspy voice spoke to the classroom. “Do you want to participate in an EXCITING EXPERIMENT?!”

Blake surmised him to be yet another freakish villain, the same as Chadwick and Scorpio. The man had credit for going for something a bit more stylish than the other two. The black long coat mixed with the red scarf around the neck, the man’s eyes by oversized goggles and a cigar on the mouth.  “My my my, how come you’re not all excited? As a Huntsman of the Great and Mighty Monarch, I’m going to have to ask ALL OF YOU to sit down until those pathetic hero brats show up.”

“What is this madness Arthur?!?” Oobleck placed a shoulder on Dr. Watts. “How did you even change your outfit so quickly, you weren’t even in this when you-”

BAM! Oobleck fell to the floor, spasming from electric shocks as Dr. Watts blew away the smoke from the gun.

“Arthur Watts is a disrespected genius, but…” He smirked in delight. “KillerWatts will be happy to avenge him, I have so many plans to execute, with so little time!”

He pulled out another gun with his pocket right, firing both at the ceiling, leaving the lights dimmed and broken. The students could only watch in horror as the Shockslinger chuckled.

“What’s the doc doing?!”

“Is he like a supervillain? Like the guys Ladybug and Chat Noir fight?” “Shit we gotta go run!”

They were piling out and fast. Blake knew she needed to find a spot so she could transform into Chat Noir and take care of this villain. Perhaps she could take advantage of the chaos to find a place to hide. “Blake we gotta stick together!” Yang grabbed her friend’s arm. “Now move!” Or she could get dragged by Yang, away from any place they could do so. 

“Yang maybe we need to find a place to hide,” Blake pointed in one direction. “I could look for help over there-“ “Are you crazy?!?” Yang pulled harder. “I’m not leaving you alone for a second, c’mon!”

As her friend took her away, Blake realized that transforming would be a difficult task. She knew she needed to find out, but how? Where was Ladybug?

As she thought of that, KillerWatts cursed himself for allowing the brats to get away. His master already told him the mission: find the miraculous, bring it to her, everyone else was secondary. As much as he wanted revenge, KillerWatts knew he needed to set his priorities straight.

“Those insufferable little brats will get what’s coming to them later. For now though…” He walked over to his failed machine. Gently, Watts fired a bullet from his gun into the robot, causing blue electric waves to spread over the robot’a.

“We should spread a bit of chaos… just enough for Ladybug to appear."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Hey Ren! Look at this!” Nora stuffed a pair of peas into her mouth, then brought a straw to her lips. She spat the peas through the straw into the air, where it hit Cardin Winchester. He turned around, flipping the middler finger to Nora, who just waved at him. Ren clapped.

“Fantastic as always Nora.”

“Thanks Ren.” Pyrrha and Jaune decided to shrug at that. Jaune glanced over to Ruby, seeing her focused on her notebook.

“What’s up Ruby?” Jaune scooched over to Ruby. “Working on a new design right now?” 

“Huh?” Ruby blinked. “Oh yeah! Weiss suggested some ideas for designs and I’ve been trying to figure out how to get them right. I’m going to meet with her later to see what she thinks.” “… You’re working with Weiss?” Jaune raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you and Weiss umm… Hate each other?” “I don’t… hate her I guess?” Ruby shrugged. “I don’t like her, but she’s seen my designs and wants to help me get better. If I want to get a career going, I feel like I should get advice from someone who’s already working in the industry right?” “Makes sense.” Ren said. “If one studies the art of the blade, they mustn’t be too picky about who they learn it from.” “… yeah I guess?” ‘Ren can be so strange sometimes,’ Ruby thought. ‘At least he’s supportive?’ “You’re a fashion designer, Ruby?” Pyrrha asked. “Have you made any designs yet?” “Ohhhh she is, Pyrrha!” Jaune pointed at the notebook. “Ruby showed me her notebook during inauguration, she’s not half bad!” “Oh stop it Jaune!” Ruby giggled. “I’m not great… yet…” “Ruby’s a fashion designer?!” Nora popped in front of Ruby, which startled the girl. "COME ON LET US SEE!”

“Nora, that’s not how you ask friends for favors. You do it from an approximately two feet away so you’re at tackling distance.” “Oh right sorry Ren.” Nora pulled back. “May we pleaaaase see your cool stuff? Please?” Ruby felt eyes on her. She wanted to keep some ideas to herself but… well these were her friends… Ruby supposed it would’t be a problem this one time.  Laughing awkwardly, she laid out her notebook for her friends.

“It’s not much but… here they are!” They looked at her notes in awe at the skill. There were pictures and drawings of elaborate, elegant outfit designs, inked to the slightest detail, with notes on the side explaining how they were supposed to be stitched, what fabrics would work with this or that, each dress not just sticking to one style but dipping into other types. Goth, pastel, others, Ruby had a talent for not just doing one, but knowing how to mix them together.

“Wow Ren look at these! I gotta ask Ruby to make our wedding outfits!” “Agreed. She is quite adept.” “These aren’t bad.” Pyrrha looked at Ruby. “Have you thought about posting these online?” “Maybe?” Ruby said. “I only just started college… I want to keep a low profile now.”

“Low profile?!” Jaune pointed at a design in the book. “Ruby that kind of t talent should be out there for all to see!”

“I just don’t think I’m ready that’s all.” Pyrrha noticed how Ruby was nervous, so she laid a hand on Jaune’s shoulder to calm him down. “I can understand what you mean, Ruby.” Pyrrha smiled. “I came here so I could avoid too much publicity. Do consider my point though. If you want opportunities you’re going to have to take risks. Not just here, for all life.” “Huh…” Ruby frowned. “That’s what Weiss said.” “She’s right, Ruby.” Pyrrha placed a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “I might be able to put in a good word for you.” “You could?!?” Ruby’s eyes lit up before she gently brought Pyrrha’s hand away. “Uh ahem, let me think about it. Maybe.”

She thought of the possibilities that could come from this. Maybe other designers will see them and give her a chance? With Pyrrha, a popular athlete, giving a good word maybe something could be done. But would it work? Of course her friends would praise her. Maybe she should need to speak to Weiss first. She’d probably tell her not to do it, being an expert and all. What if she did get people to notice her but they turn her down?

(What if she saw it?)

“HOLY CRAP, RUN!” Ruby heard it before her earrings vibrated. A panicked student ran down the mess hall just as a set of walls broke, revealing a robot with blue sparks surrounding it.

“Kill the brats.” The robot spoke. “Bring the miraculous to the Master!”

“Shit what was that?!?” Jaune got up from the chair. “We gotta move!”

Ruby knew she had to act quickly. She pushed the notebook into her bag and ran with the others. Nora fired peas from her straw at the robot. They disintegrated upon impact due to the electric current. Thankfully for her Ren grabbed her hand and moved with Jaune. “Why is it attacking us, here?” Pyrrha turned her head led and right. “Where’s Ruby?!”

Jaune turned around, having just noticed his friend’s absence. “Ruby, RUBY!!!”

The robot turned it’s attention towards Jaune, who was desperately looking around.

“RUBY!” “Jaune watch out!" A red spot appeared on Jaune’s chest. Before he could get fired on, a yoyo appeared over Jaune’s arm, pulling him away from laser fire. “You should be more careful.” Ladybug said. “This is the second time I saved you. Get going!” “But Ruby-!” “I’ll find her soon, but move!” Ruby felt guilty sending her friend away. She had ducked under a table during the chaos. She knew what she had to do.

“Okay you bucket of bolts!” Ladybug shouted to the robot. “Let’s see what you’re made of!” The robot fired concentrated electric blasts at Ladybug, but she was quick and nimble, leaping across the tables with ease. Her eyes narrowed, she used the yoyo to catch one of the robot’s legs, pulling on it to break it off. Once it did, the robot fell to the side, firing at Ladybug again. However, she jumped through the air, raising a leg to attack it’s head.

SMASH! The head went flying, falling just a few steps away. Ladybug let out a breath.

“Holy crap.” Ruby said to herself. “I should be careful with my own strength. She waited for the butterfly to come out, to de-grimmify the robot, fix the area, get some answers. Chat would appreciate a situation she didn’t have to be called for.

“I guess this isn’t it.” Ladybug said. “That means the real Huntsman must be in here somewhere.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

It was hard for Blake to concentrate when she could hear bullets flying in the air.

“Hahahahaha! Stupid kids are going to get what’s coming to them!”

She heard the doctor shout his grazed ramblings behind her. She cringed as Yang took her behind a wall.

“Which way do we go? That bastard’s gonna track us down sooner or later.” Yang looked around. “Where’s Ladybug and Chat Noir when you need ‘em?”

Blake wished she could laugh. She wasn’t sure about Ladybug, but Blake would certainly not be able to answer her about Chat Noir. Unless Plagg decided to take control right now, Blake wasn’t sure she wanted to risk her identity just yet to Yang.

“Maybe if we head down the mess hall.” Blake pointed. “Maybe we could get help.“

“Yeah, great idea.” Yang’s eyes widened. “Wait no. Ruby’s with her friends in the cafeteria. What if he gets there?”

Damn. Blake hadn’t considered that. “Maybe…” Blake tried to think. “Maybe we could head into a different classroom? Call someone?”

“Maybe. I don’t know I-” Yang breathed in and out. “God things have gotten weird so quickly.” “What do you mean?” “What, the superheroes, the donkey monsters, the scorpion guy, now our teacher’s a crappy cowboy? World’s gone insane since we showed up in town.”

Blake laughed. “Yeah they have. I wish I could say things’ll get better but…” “I wouldn’t believe it if it came from you. You’re too gloomy for nice thoughts.” “Harsh, though not unfair." “I’m good at reading people like that.”

Oh Plagg would love Yang if they met. Maybe…

“Yang I think…” Blake breathed. “I think I might have a way out of this.” Yang raised an eyebrow. “Well out with it, I don’t think I have any- GAAH!“ Blake watched in horror as Yang fell to the ground. She clutched her arm, bleeding from the side. Blake saw a hole where Yang’s arm originally was. “Ggh! What the hell?!?”

“Do you enjoy my handiwork?” KillerWatts grinned at the frightened teenagers. Better yet, these two were the slackers who made a fool of him in today’s class. “Foolish children. You mock and insult your betters…” He raised a gun at Yang. "Who’s laughing now?!!!?” It amused KillerWatts when Blake stood in between Yang and himself. She raised her hands in defiance.

“Don’t hurt my friend! Do whatever you want to me, just let her go!”

“B-Blake no-!” “Idiot.” Dr. Watts’s eye twitched. “You’re the one who humiliated me… You don’t deserve even one of my bullets.” He grabbed the offending student and threw Blake through the window.

“Say good bye!” “BLAKE!”

As she was tossed out of the window, Blake thought about the events that lead up to this moment. Her past, her present, her friendships with Yang, Ladybug… Ruby… she couldn’t let them die.

“Plagg, Claws-"

Blake felt arms surrounding her shoulders before she could even spout the words. She looked to see her savior, as they landed at the lawn. “You alright miss?” Ladybug said. “You’re not injured?”

Blake blushed, nodding her head.

“Good.” Ladybug cleared her throat. “You better hurry inside. My partner hasn’t shown up yet and I need to stop the villain quickly.” “Of course… I won’t get in your way.” Blake’s eyes widened. “Watch out for the doctor! He has guns! He shot my friend Yang in the arm.”

She was surprised at the way Ladybug glared. “He won’t get away with it, I promise.”

As Ladybug jumped up to face the evil scientist, Blake dashed away. She rubbed the ring.

“What’s up gloomy cat?” “Plagg, CLAWS OUT!” _____________________________________________________________________________________ “Well well well, if it isn’t Ladybug! You arrived at last.”

Ruby watched Yang bleed out next to the villain and saw red. How dare this pathetic, cruel little man do that to her sister?! He had to pay.

“Monarch demands your earrings.” KillerWatts pointed a gun at her. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your highness, would you?” “She’ll have to pry them off herself, over my dead body.” “That can be arranged.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the fight began. KillerWatts fired at her, but Ladybug quickstepped past them as if they were slower than dirt. She threw her yoyo to tangle one of Watts’ arms.

“Do you think that will be enough?!” Watts fired his other gun to break the Yoyo’s string. “You really are a child-“ A sharp pain! The gun was knocked away from his right hand. Ladybug had another yoyo in her hand.

“Why you-!” She ducked below him, kicking him off balance. KillerWatts immediately fired from his left hand, which Ladybug jumped away to avoid them. Watts got up quickly, just in time to avoid two strikes from two yoyos. Somehow Ladybug’s broken yoyo repaired itself.

“You’re fast, Ladybug.” He said. "Not fast enough.” He fired again. Ladybug dodged again.

“You’re not particularly creative, sir.” Ladybug said. “Even Chadwick varied his monsters.” “It’s KillerWatts dear. Watch what you say brat-“ The bullets froze in mid air.

“-You might end up regretting it!” Ladybug was surprised by how fast the bullets moved. She had to keep herself moving less they hit her.

“What the heck are these?” “Fool! You think Monarch hands out powers without imagination! Your efforts so far-“

The bullets glowed.

“-WILL DETONATE BEFORE YOUR EYES!”

Miniature explosions shocked Ladybug still, the current making her drop to her knees. “GAAAAAAAH!” “Heh heh.” “No…” Yang tried to get up, but her arm hurt so badly. “Ladybug no!”

KillerWatts laughed, walking over to his defeated foe with nary a concern.

“A fitting end to a worthless brat. It is a wonder that the others had so much problem with her. The difference between peons and a genius.” He reached over to the earrings… before something slammed into his chest. KillerWatts jumped away, pointing guns at the intruder. “You won’t lay a hand on her.” Chat pointed her staff at him. “Surrender now.” “Oh great.” Dr. Watts sneered. “More naughty children to kill.” He fired several shots at Chat, who smashed them all at once with her staff. One by one they were each broken to KillerWatts’ amazement. “I have to study that staff… after I take it from your corpse!”

Chat moved quickly. She didn’t even flinch at the bullets moving towards her, smashing some as she ran towards her target. “Say your prayers!” “Wrong thing to say, kitty cat.” The bullets that Chat hadn’t destroyed detonated again. This time, they formed an electric trap around her. “You…” Chat said. “What did you do?!” “I dare you to move towards me, I dare you.”

Chat glared at her opponent. She took a step, but a laser shot near her foot, leaving a black spot on the floor. The laser fired again, which Chat had to move. Ladybug came to. She noticed KillerWatts laughing while her partner was dodging the lighting in the trap. She had to figure out a way to help out her friend.

“Here goes nothing…” She whispered. "Lucky charm!” Tikki had told her of this ability. When pushed into a dangerous situation, Ladybug wielders can summon an object that will help turn the tide of battle. Ruby didn’t have a choice but to use it. The yoyo glowed, releasing…

“A razor?” Ladybug picked up the electric razor with her hand. She looked it up and down.

“What the heck? This is supposed to help me against that psycho?!? What am I supposed to do, shave off his mustache?” She blinked. “Oh you gotta be kidding me.” Given who she was dealing with, it wouldn’t surprise her. Ruby sighed.

“Okay let’s get this going.”

“Hahahahahaha dance for me you stupid cat!” KillerWatts laughed. “Give praise to your superior mind!”

Chat cursed in her head as she moved from the laser. Why did the Butterfly miraculous grant it’s users these versatile, almost overpowered abilities while she and Ladybug were so limited?! It angered her over it’s unfairness.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to rant to Plagg. Maybe limit his cheese until I-“ “Chat grab on!” She blinked as the yoyo appeared in the trap. Chat grabbed it, and felt herself being pulled from the trap.

“What?” KillerWatts’ eye twitched. “No…” “Thank you my lady.” Chat collected herself. "What’s the plan?” Ladybug showed her the electric razor. “What are you-“ Chat’s eyes darted from the razor to KillerWatts. “Oh. That makes far too much sense.” They dashed one last time. The dup kept switching places, avoiding the bullets again.

“Damn you!” KillerWatts shouted. “Die!” Chat went in front of Ladybug, destroying a few bullets, while Ladybug used both of her yo-yos to move them closer to their opponent. “Die!”

He was about to fire again, but they were knocked away by a yoyo and a staff strike.

“YOU ALL SHOULD JUST DIE!!!!” He shouted even as Blake grabbed his arms behind him, Ladybug activating the razor.

“No stop-!”

SHZZZZ

His mustache was gone. Destroyed, in the blink of an eye, by the razor. Arthur couldn't even process this blasphemy happening as the butterfly appeared. Ladybug caught the glowing insect with her yoyo.

“MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!” As it happens in these situations, the ladybugs fixed everything. KillerWatts was no more, as Dr. Arthur Watts lied in the ground, probably knocked out from the shock of his mustache gone. Ladybug and Chat gazed at each other.

“That man is so fired.” Chat said. “Not bad Ladybug. You were great today.” “You’re not so bad yourself, Chat.” Ladybug said. “You ok?” “I am.” “Me too!” Yang swung her arm around freely. She was cheery “Damn my arm’s good! Would be a shame if I lost it.” Ladybug and Chat laughed awkwardly at that joke. Yang smiled before panicking. “Oh crap! I need to find Blake! And Ruby! Sorry guys gotta run!" Yang ran off to the hallway. Ladybug and Chat shrugged.

“See you around Chat.” “Likewise, Bugaboo.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Foiled again. This is getting so annoying.” Monarch slammed a fist at the table. KillerWatts did come closer to capturing the miraculous than the other two, but almost is not the same as total victory. She had to change her strategy somehow. How did they arrive to the school so quickly?

She stopped herself.

“How did they arrive so quickly to the school?”

Monarch turned on her computer. She typed into the mainframe, pulling up a list of students from this year. She smirked in realization. 

“It seems not all was lost today. I may have a clue.”

Author’s Notes:

I was originally gonna have Arthur be like this Frankenstein parody “FrankenWatts” but that fell through. I was also going to call hi “The ShockSlinger” but my friend came up with KillerWatts, which was a way better name. Thank you friend for having more sense than me!

I was going to have more moments between Blake and Ladybug to sort of set up a Ladrien situation, but the story didn’t feel right for such a thing. I hope you’re satisfied anyway!

[unsettledink]

Sanction - Kinktober Day 6

@starkerfestivals

Sanction

Prompt: Consensual Non-Con

Word Count:

Summary: Peter can say the words, but it doesn’t mean Tony is going to listen.

Just like Peter wants.

(consent play, light humiliation, dirty talk, crying)

Heads up: if you are bothered by non-con I’d avoid reading this. It is consensual between Tony and Peter, but since the discussion before and after isn’t shown, it could still be upsetting

*

It’s not weird, Peter tells himself. It’s not— it’s not bad. Tony wouldn’t, if it was. He just— he wouldn’t. 

He’s standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at the shiny top of the counter, his thoughts spinning. He can almost see his face in it; he looks closer, distracting himself. Trying not to think too hard about what they talked about, what— 

Peter's breath hitches when Tony leans against his back, his arms caging Peter in place. "Hey sweetheart," Tony says, and kisses the side of his neck. Peter licks his lips, nervous all over again.

He's been waiting for Tony.

Tony kisses his neck again, higher, and Peter turns his head away. "Tony," he huffs. Tony laughs and slides a hand up Peter's side, under his shirt.

Peter squirms away from it, coming up against Tony's other arm. "Seriously," Peter says, letting himself sound a little annoyed. "Come on, Tony."

"Oh, so sorry," Tony says. "What, too slow?" and his hand slips down into Peter's pants.

"No," Peter says, catching his hand. "Not now, ok?"

Tony stills. "What?"

"I'm just not really— just not now, Tony," Peter says, his heart in his throat.

There's a moment, a long stretch of silence and stillness that has Peter thinking maybe— maybe Tony isn't going to do this, right now.

Tony shoves him forward, pinning Peter against the counter. "You don't get to tell me 'not now'," he says, flat. Cold.

"Yes I do," Peter snaps. "I just did. What the hell, Tony?"

"You did," Tony says. "And it's just meaningless noise. You don't say no to me, Peter."

Peter shivers up against Tony. "I wasn't," he says. "I just— not no, just not now."

"Do you think that's different?" Tony says. "I'll have you whenever the fuck I want you." He laughs, his breath hot against Peter's skin. "I take it back," he adds. "You can say no, sweetheart. You can say it as much as you'd like. I'm just not going to listen."

"Okay, that's enough," Peter says, squirming between Tony and the counter. "This isn't funny, or hot."

Tony pushes him down, face up against the cold marble of the counter. "Hold still," he snaps, and then he's yanking Peter's pants down.

"Wait," Peter says, pushing himself back up, trying to shove Tony back as well. Misjudging a little and actually making Tony stumble back a step; Peter hesitates, and then Tony's hand is on his throat, yanking him back flush against Tony's front.

"I told you to hold still," he says, and it's so sharp, so unlike Tony normally sounds.

"That's not— I don't want to," Peter says. "Tony—"

Tony's hand tightens on his throat. "Does it look like I care?" he snaps, pressing Peter down again. "Now stay there, or I'll make you regret it."

"Tony," Peter whispers, "just— please, wait. I'll—" his words cut off as Tony grabs at his ass, pushing a finger inside him with barely anything to ease it. "Hey!" Peter says, sharply. "That's— Tony, stop."

For a heartbeat, Peter wonders, Tony's hand heavy on the back of his neck. "'Stop' isn't going to save you," Tony says, harsh and low. "Not this time, Peter. Do you understand that?"

Oh god, Peter thinks, he does know that, he did know that, and he still wasn't prepared for how it makes him feel. How his heart is suddenly pounding away, his mouth so dry he can barely swallow— his dick so, so hard. He whimpers.

"Say it all you want, sweetheart," Tony says. "It isn't going to mean a thing."

Peter jerks when Tony's finger pushes in further. "No," Peter says, "no, stop." Twists under Tony's grip, and Tony yanks his finger out, smacking Peter hard across his ass.

"I told you to stay still," Tony says. "It's a good thing you heal so easily." He shoves two fingers back in, nowhere near enough lube or enough stretching and oh, this is going to hurt.

"No! Tony, stop— stop it!" Peter yelps, and Tony doesn't.

It's like that snaps something in Peter, that moment where Tony doesn't even hesitate at his 'stop', not even for a breath. Peter moans and squirms around on the counter, fighting just hard enough that he can feel Tony working to hold him down. Whispers 'no', over and over in response to Tony's every move, every twist of his fingers and tightening of his hand, when he bites at Peter's shoulder and pushes in another finger and laughs at Peter.

"Don't be such a whiny little bitch," Tony says, and Peter shudders. Tony takes his hand off Peter's neck and has it between Peter's legs in the next second, curled around his dick. "Say whatever you want, but this," and he squeezes, hard, Peter trying to jerk away from it, "tells me exactly how much of a slut you are."

"No," Peter gasps, "no, no— please, please Tony."

"Please?" Tony says. "Please, fuck me already? Is that what you mean?" Peter shakes his head, frantically, but Tony's hand is already gone; Peter can hear the sound of his zipper, can feel, a moment later, Tony's cock sliding along his ass.

"Stop," Peter moans, his hands fisting against the counter. "Please Tony, stop, stop!"

He can hear the wet sound of Tony spitting, and then the head of Tony's cock is pressing up against him. "Go ahead," Tony says, his hands grabbing onto Peter's hips. "Tell me some more lies about how you don't want this."

It hurts when Tony pushes in, hurts enough that Peter can't say anything for a minute, just gasp out these short, whimpering cries. "Yeah," Tony says, "that's right, you little brat. Knew you needed a good hard fucking."

"No," Peter manages to stutter out, right before Tony pulls back out and slams back in, the force of it pushing all Peter's air out. "Stop," he begs, again and again with every thrust; "No," the word turning into a long, drawn out moan, mangled almost beyond recognition.

He feels so helpless like this, Tony fucking him and ignoring him completely, totally uncaring if Peter likes it, if Peter even wants it. Mocking Peter for every attempt to make this stop, for how he fights and what he says, how none of it can be true when Peter's this hard, when Peter feels this good around him.

"Come on, Peter," Tony says, slamming him against the edge of the counter with each thrust. "If you didn't like this, you'd find a way to stop me. You're not helpless. I'm not even holding you down, you stupid cockslut."

Peter shakes his head as much as he can against the counter. "No, no," he says. "Tony, I don't, please, I don't. Please stop, please," and his breath catches on the last word because Tony's dug his fingers hard into Peter's hips. Has tilted them a little more, and that next thrust makes his whole body jolt, that next thrust feels too good. The next sound Peter lets out isn't a no.

The one after that is though, as Tony continues to fuck him just like that, as Peter can feel his balls getting tighter and tighter. "No," he pants, "no, please no," and it doesn't matter, it doesn't make a difference. His body isn't listening to him any more than Tony is.

Tony laughs when Peter comes, fucking him through it, past it without pause. "Told you," he says. "I didn't even have to touch you. Tell me again how much you don't want this."

"I don't," Peter whispers, and maybe it's just that it hurts more now, that he's oversensitive now and every thrust is making his poor, tender dick slap up against the counter, but he can feel tears prickling in his eyes. "I don't, Tony. Stop, stop, stop," even if it sounds as hopeless as he feels.

He doesn't stop, of course he doesn't, and Peter gives up. Goes limp, letting each smack of Tony's hips push him against the counter, letting himself beg helplessly, letting himself cry and hurt and feel. His words are garbled, probably not making any sense at all, and he lets them fade too, into nothing but harsh, wet gasps as he sobs.

"Are you crying?" Tony asks. "Poor Peter, all in tears because you came? God, you're pathetic," and he reaches forward, his hand fisting in Peter's hair, yanking him up and back. Peter thinks about getting his hands under himself, holding himself up, but in the end he doesn't care. Just lets himself hang from Tony's grip, tears running down his face.

Tony fucks into him and stays there, grinding against him. "Look at me," he says harshly. "Peter, look at me."

He doesn't want to, doesn't want to have see anything or think about anything or do anything at all. He feels so used, filthy and disgusting and helpless, can feel himself starting to harden again and it only makes him cry harder. "No," he whispers, even if there's no use in doing so.

"Look at me," Tony snaps, and Peter looks. Can barely see Tony through the haze of tears in his eyes, the way his eyelashes are sticking together. Tony's hand tightens even more in Peter's hair, enough to make him cry if he wasn't already. "What do you say, Peter?"

Peter shakes his head. It doesn't matter what he says, it doesn't matter. "No," he says. "Please, no."

Tony makes a sound, sort of a growl, and shakes Peter's head. "No, what do you say?"

There's an edge to it, a different kind then when Tony's calling him filthy names. Peter blinks a little more of the tears away, and Tony is watching him, his brow creased. Oh, Peter thinks, oh— 

"No," Peter says, getting his hands under him. "Stop," he whispers, pushing his ass back against Tony, tightening around him. "Please," he breathes out, looking right at Tony, giving him his best pleading look.

Tony pulls Peter's head to the side and kisses his neck, the edge of his jaw. Bites his ear, just enough to hurt. "Fuck, you're such a sweet little slut," Tony says. "Don't you worry, sweetheart, nothing you do is going to stop me."

Peter whines. Good, he thinks, yes, please.

"No," he says. "No, Tony. No."

*

AO3

[lyssismagical]

you drive me crazy, crazy for you

Parkner Week Day Two: “And I said ‘no’, you know, like a liar”/ identity shenanigans / iron lad

Peter had been talking to Harley Keener online. They’d met through Twitter, being two of the five people Tony followed, and the casual liking and commenting turned into texting and calling and skyping every chance they got.

They hadn’t told Tony, worried how he’d react to finding out they’d become friends behind his back, and Peter had decided early on that he’d wait to tell Harley about being Spider-Man. He didn’t want secrets to get in the way of their close friendship, but he needed to put his family first and if Harley ever turned on him, not that Peter thought he would, he didn’t want Harley to have that kind of knowledge.

And then, six months into their friendship, Harley admits to having a crush on Peter. They were talking on the phone, quiet and sleepy, late at night, when Harley had murmured how he needed Peter to know. That he couldn’t keep pretending he didn’t want them to be something more.

It was hard for their relationship to change from the way it was. Harley lived in Tennessee, Peter in New York, neither of them capable of taking time off to see each other, nor were they able to afford plane tickets. But it felt real anyways.

And then Iron Lad shows up in Manhattan.

“I know you’re here to help, but this is my city,” Peter says, Karen filtering his voice to sound lower. “I don’t team up with just anybody.”

“I know!” Iron Lad exclaims, sounding surprised more than anything. “I don’t want to get in your way or be a problem, but if you need backup, I’m always available.”

Peter frowns, rolling his eyes when Karen sends him another alert of crime. He loves being Spider-Man, he loves patrolling, he loves helping people, but his window of time to call Harley is shrinking every time he goes to stop another crime. It’s been three days since he’s gotten the chance to talk to his boyfriend.

But Iron Lad is standing across from him, suit built strong and colored the same reds and golds as Iron Man’s, and Peter knows it would take half as much time if he let the new hero help him.

“Fine,” he says, trying his best to come off as nonchalant and flippant. “Let’s go then. Prove yourself, and then we’ll see about a team-up, okay?”

Iron Lad nods quickly, muttering a few things to himself and his own AI, and then his comms are linked to Peter’s.

“Perfect. Lead the way, Spider-Man.”

He was right, it does go a lot quicker to have Iron Lad at his side, they manage to detain the criminals, call the police, and save everybody from the robbery within ten minutes. And even when Karen alerts him to another crime on the other side of the city, he doesn’t feel too guilty passing it off to Iron Lad.

“You’ll let me know if you need back-up?” Peter asks before he lets Iron Lad go.

“I’ve got it, Spidey. Have some faith in me.”

Peter smiles behind the mask. He’s never had somebody look out for Queens, he’s never been given the option to go home early, he’s never had the opportunity to choose himself over the city.

When he gets home, tugging off the suit and grabbing his phone, immediately hitting Harley’s contact and preparing to ramble about the school day he had, it’s still before midnight. He rarely ever makes it home before midnight despite it being his curfew.

He’s disappointed though when Harley doesn’t pick up.

He tries again, hoping maybe he just didn’t get to his phone in time, but again, nothing.

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t call earlier, I got caught up at the Lab with Tony,” Peter starts when the phone dings to signal his voicemail. “I hope you’re okay… I’m sorry we keep missing each other lately. It’s like we’re just a little out of sync. Only another year, right? And then Boston together? Just like we promised?”

He takes a deep breath, suddenly finding himself choked up. Long-distance relationships are hard. They always are. Online, long-distance, wanting nothing more than to be with him in the flesh, but not being able. It’s hard. There’s so much longing, so much desire, so much he wants to say and do.

“I’m waiting for that hug, you hear me? Next year, when we get to Boston, you better give me one of those dramatic, running hugs in the airport. Anyways, yeah, call me when you can, okay? I miss you.”

Out the window, he can hear the sound of Iron Lad’s repulsors, going after the sound of echoing gunshots. And next door, May’s sleeping soundly. But Peter’s chest feels carved open, missing so desperately and longing for his boyfriend to just be here. He wants to be held, wants to feel whole, wants to feel loved, but he wants all of that from somebody who lives a thousand miles away.

He curls up on his side, phone still clutched in one of his hands like Harley will call him at any second, and cries into his pillow, wishing so badly for something he knows can’t happen.

* “Peter! I’m so sorry I didn’t answer your calls. I was busy last night and I forgot to text you. I’m so sorry. Text me and let me know when you’ve got a chance to call though, I probably can’t talk late tonight either. I’ve got news coming in a little bit, but I don’t know how soon I can tell you… I know what you mean about being out of sync lately, but it’ll be okay. Text me? I miss you.”

The voicemail ends, the third time Peter’s listened to it without replying or trying to call Harley. He knows Harley would be on his way to school by now, without data, so there’s no point in trying.

Harley’s voice helps soothe the ache in Peter’s chest just a little bit, but it doesn’t help knowing that the end to this lapse of communication might take weeks, months to sort out. With exams coming up, junior prom, the need to get a summer job, and whatever Harley’s doing in Tennessee, they’re just going to get busier.

“You okay?” May peeks her head into the room, somehow able to sense his misery as quick as if he were still crying.

“Me and Harley haven’t spoken in four days,” Peter admits, staring down at the seemingly harmless text message. Morning darling! Sorry I missed your call. We still on for the Skype session on Sunday?

May’s face softens, slipping into the room to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “That happens. Things happen. It’ll get easier.”

“I want it to be easier now.” He sounds pathetic, whiny, desperate. “I don’t want to wait another year for him, for us.”

Boston feels like a lifetime away, like an untouchable dream. MIT, the two of them together. He’s scared it won’t work out, that going from this long-distance relationship to living together in Boston, going to University together, won’t work out and they’ll have to kiss their relationship goodbye.

“Oh I know you do, honey. I know this is hard, but I know how much you care about Harley and how much he cares about you. You’ll figure this out, I promise.”

The way that she says it makes it sound like letting go is still an option. She says it likes it’s possible for Peter to say goodbye to Harley and move on, take a different path. She says it like Peter could ever break up with Harley.

“I just really wish he were here.”

May kisses the top of his head comfortingly, and Peter loves her, he does, but he wishes nothing more that it was Harley instead.

* MJ and Ned both comment on how strange he’s acting. Daydreaming the time away because his relationship feels like it’s on thin ice, like one wrong move will make the Jenga tower crumble, so he thinks about Boston, about a future, and nothing else. He stares at his phone, at the text messages he doesn’t bother answering, at the voicemails that he knows by heart. It’s been two weeks since he last properly spoke to Harley.

Tony notices it too. “What’s up, kid? Tough day at school? Iron Lad giving you trouble?”

“I’m okay, not a big deal,” he says. Tony doesn’t know and Peter doesn’t want to tell him, not before he talks to Harley first, not that he really thinks telling Tony about a crumbling relationship is a good idea.  

His phone rings before Tony can argue with him.

It’s Harley. His silly picture, one he got from his sister, appearing on the screen.

He wants to talk to Harley, he wants nothing more than to ask him to please come to New York, drop everything because Peter’s never wanted to see him more than he does now. But he knows Harley can’t. That’s just the way it is.

So he lets it go to voicemail. He tries not to let the pit in his chest grow anymore than it already has, but it does, longing and cold. It’s hard for him to feel much beyond the longing these days. Harley’s the only thing on his mind, the only one that could help him.

“I think I’m going to go out if that’s okay,” Peter says, voice breaking. He turns his phone on Do Not Disturb and pockets it. “I’ll text you if I need any help.”

Tony doesn’t bother trying to stop him, quickly telling him to be home by curfew and to be safe, before Peter disappears out the door.

He changes in his bedroom, slips out his window, and scales the side of the building to get to the roof.

Iron Lad lands beside him only moments later.

“Hiya, Spidey!” he chirps. “You want backup today?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Peter knows he’s missing the enthusiasm he normally has whenever he talks to Iron Lad. They’ve teamed up frequently over the past couple weeks, and Peter’s been enjoying the nights of solitude when he can leave the safety of Queens up to Iron Lad.

Iron Lad’s tone immediately changes to one of worry and confusion. “Everything okay, Spidey?”

“I miss my boyfriend,” he admits quietly. He hates that he can barely function when he isn’t talking to Harley, that he relies so deeply on their relationship. He sits down on the edge of the roof, feet kicking absentmindedly, and Iron Lad joins him a second later.

The superhero laughs, not unkindly, and nods. “Yeah, I know how you feel. Hey, I know this might be a longshot, but have you ever helped a Peter Parker? He lives around here, works with Tony, goes to Midtown.”

“No!” Peter blurts quickly. How Iron Lad knows him, Peter doesn’t know. He doesn’t recognize the voice, not that he really puts it past him to use a voice modulator, Peter does too. “Why? You know him?”

“He’s my boyfriend.”

It feels like the floor falls out from under him, heart hammering in his chest. His fingers hook under the edge of his mask, prepared to throw everything on the line.

“Harley?” His voice is shaking and high, wanting so desperately for it to be him. He doesn’t care about logic or hidden identities or the possibility of Iron Lad being a liar, he doesn’t care because he wants it to be true so badly.

Iron Lad’s faceplate pops open, revealing-

“Oh my god, Harley!”

Peter doesn’t wait another moment, yanking his mask off, curls bouncing around his ears, smile widening until it almost hurts, and tosses his arms around Harley’s shoulders. They nearly fall off the edge of the roof at Peter’s excitement, but Harley rights them, arms winding around Peter’s waist tightly and mouth pressing against his temple.

“Holy fuck, oh my god, I can’t believe this is real,” Harley breathes, mouth brushing against Peter’s skin as he speaks. “You’re real and oh god you smell so good, so much better than I imagined, and I can’t believe you never told me you’re Spider-Man, oh my god.”

The longing, the cold gaping hole in his chest, the pure misery that had settled when the insecurities had crept into his head, it all soothes. Harley’s here, in New York, in Queens, in Peter’s arms. He’s here and he’s real and he’s murmuring his excitement against Peter’s forehead, arms tight and chest warm.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I’m sorry we were so out of sync. I’m so sorry-”

“I’m sorry,” Harley says, pulling away enough to look at Peter. The younger boy nearly starts crying at just how real Harley is, freckles splashed out across his tanned skin, eyes wide and so blue in a way that Peter could never really see over Skype. “I wanted to surprise you. Mom got transferred to the New York branch of her job. I was going to tell you, but between moving here, taking over as the new Iron Man, enrolling in school, and babysitting my sister, I didn’t have the time to surprise you how I wanted to. The dramatic airport scene you wanted. I’m sorry.”

Peter shakes his head, vision blurry with tears and hands trembling as he cups Harley’s face gently. “You’re staying? Like forever?”

“Forever,” Harley promises, smiling through his own tears. “And I know this is soon and crazy and out of euphoria and shock, but I love you, Peter. I love you so much and I couldn’t survive another year without you, you mean too much to me to lose.”

“I love you too. God, I’ve missed you, I’ve been craving this since we got together. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

He finally lets himself kiss Harley, slow and sweet, letting himself memorize everything, soothing the last of the ache in his chest. This is all he’s ever wanted.

Peter refuses to let go of Harley, linking their fingers together and sticking without meaning to.

“This is real,” he says, voice thick with emotion, staring unashamedly at Harley and his blue eyes and his freckles and his jawline and his fluffy hair, unable to stop crying no matter how hard he tries.

Harley’s real and here.

Harley grins, boyish and so unbelievably happy, and kisses his breath away.

“It’s real, darlin’.”

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed} 

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »8

Previous  » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 8.8k ▎ ch.warnings: cursing, use of homophobic slurs (censored), mentions of abusive parents, floooofff

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang ♡♡♡ Banner made by my lovely @ppersonna​ chu chu ♡

The next day came quick enough, Jungkook throwing his backpack over his shoulder before heading to the morning practice. Even if he technically barely got any sleep, he still felt more rested than he's ever been before.

It's crazy what a new relationship does to you.

Jungkook headed down to the locker room, empty as it was due to him being early-- nothing new. He enjoyed the silence, but this time, he wondered when Taehyung would arrive. 

Kooks mind wandered, a small smile on his face as he pulled his hoodie off, digging in his backpack for his Jersey

~

The following morning, Taehyung showed up to school earlier than normal. He didn’t want anyone to question him, even less gawk at him like they did the last time.

So, he figured it’d be best to change into his basketball attire and keep to himself for the first half of the morning. Of course, Jungkook would most likely want an explanation, but Tae had yet to think of one.

Just the thought of that stressed him out.

What could he tell his boyfriend?

Definitely not the truth. At least, not now..

Avoiding eye contact with a few of his peers, Taehyung pushed on the locker room door, not expecting to see anyone else there.

The elder looked bad, more bruises now adorning his face. It seemed like he could never seem to catch a break.

Much to his dismay, Jungkook was there. Tae’s eyes widened, before quickly recollecting himself.

“Before you say anything, I’m fine.” He lied, and maybe it was obvious he was lying. He didn’t want Kook worrying about him.

The smile that had adorned the younger's face quickly faltered when he laid eyes on Taehyung. He looked like absolute shit

"You call that fine? how could that be fine?" Without hesitation, Jungkook drops his water bottle to the floor as he jogs up to Taehyung, his hands immediately reaching out to delicately cup the elders face, guiding it into different angles so that he could examine the bruises. These were new, not at all the old ones because of Ash from the other day.

"What the fuck happened..?" His doe eyes were, indeed, worried-- whether Tae wanted it or not.

“Nothing happened, okay? I just..”

What else could he say to justify himself? Taehyung had nothing.

Jungkook was smart, he’d be able to pick apart his bullshit of an excuse in a second.

“I fell somewhere..”

He dreaded waiting for Kook’s reaction, he knew what he said was stupid,

“I don’t want you worrying about me, alright? I’ll be fine.” The elder smiled, pulling Jungkook close to him by the waist, “Quit frowning so much.. your face is going to stay that way.”

Taehyung teased, hoping to ease the tension for now.

He pressed a soft kiss on Jungkook’s scar, still holding him close.

Jungkooks frown fought the muscles pulling in his face, eventually losing the fight as he couldn't help but smile at how easily he was swooned over and over by Taehyung-- even if it was through a simple kiss on his cheek, and feeling him close.

"Fine," he breathes out, still not completely convinced that it was nothing, however he can tell that Taehyung doesn't want to push it further. And knowing him-- there was no use in trying at this time. 

"Hey, you're here early..." Jungkook's hands settle at the elders waist, memories from last night replaying in his head. He loved this part of his body, the way his waist slightly curved inwards, kooks hands perfectly molded into the dip, "Wanna join me for the warm up?"

The moment Jungkook’s hands moved to his waist, that same submissive, whiny, pathetic Taehyung arose to the surface.

It was insane how much a touch came with so much recollection.

He still had some bruising on his hips, given to him from Kook’s strong hold.

The younger one was buff, there was no doubt about that. Those continuous days at the gym paid off.

At this moment, no matter if he was taller than Jungkook, Taehyung felt incredibly small in his arms. He only towered him by an inch, so there was barely any difference, but still.

“Warm up? My ass still hurts.” Tae threw his head back with a groan, really not looking forward to any future practices.

The elder couldn’t move without a limp, how was he supposed to run across the court?

“Fine. As long as you promise to go easy on me.” Taehyung smirked, pulling away to change out of his clothes and into his Jersey and shorts.

"If I could do it, so can you," Jungkook chuckles, cringing at the memory-- the day after the locker room fuck. He was such a mess at that time, now it's Tae’s turn to run with a sore ass.

He was only kidding though, his genuine care for him slips through as his eyes are fixed on the elder changing, almost dumb looking for how hes not even subtle about his stare in admiration.

"You look pretty."

His eyes rake Taehyung's torso, able to distinguish the bruises caused by himself-- but also noticing the bruises that weren't.

When Taehyung noticed Kook staring at him, he grinned, until he remembered the other bruises painted on by his father.

There was a noticeable splash of dark purple on his stomach, where the man had kicked him before leaving him to bleed on the floor.

Not wanting Jungkook to continue looking at it, Tae quickly threw on his Jersey.

“Thanks..” He smiled, a boxy smile too. Those were rare, but Kook easily brought them out of him, “Now come on, let’s warm up.” Taehyung threw an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder after he put on his shorts, leading them out of the locker room.

It was nice being the only two ones there, quiet, not so much commotion. Sometimes he needed that in his life.

Jungkook must be growing into a man-- because lately all he seems to think about when Taehyung's body is so close, is to touch. Kiss. Even the urge to sink his teeth into the elders skin hits him way too frequently. He was like a source of gravity, a temptation from the devil himself-- and not just indulging in him every second felt like a sin in itself.

And then there was the other feelings; the raw, pure, appreciation for the man. He felt so calm, safe, and happy around him.

The two sides of his love really created a clash. 

Anyway, some running always helps when he needs to clear his mind. As they make it to the court, kook still keeps his hand tightly wrapped around the elders slim waist,

"If you can't run, just jog." Kook reassured, rubbing his large palm on taes side for a moment, eyes glancing over at him with pursed lips, "Or just stretch. You can watch me?"

The elder thought about it for a minute, nodding his head,

“I’ll watch you.” Taehyung hummed, walking next to Jungkook’s side, the word ‘personal space’ so foreign to them. 

What he didn’t know was that Namjoon was standing outside of the practice hall, a smile so big his dimples could be seen. 

What could he say, he was proud.

It was a nice change, not having to break up their arguments anymore. The elder didn’t want to intrude on their time together, so he went down to the locker room.

“Go on, baby. Show me what you’ve got~” Taehyung bit down on his lip, preventing a grin from spreading. He sat down in the middle of the gym, cross legged whilst he watched Jungkook make circles around him, giggling when he’d get a little dizzy.

He liked this, that was for sure.

Jungkook kept shooting glances and silly grins towards taehyung as he ran around the court, shoes squeaking against the floor,

"Taehyungie, do I look cool?" The younger fished for praise, a mischievous smile playing on his bunny like teeth. He kept going for a bit until he decided to make an abrupt turn, instead jogging towards his boyfriend. He slows down, halting in front of him as he gazes down at the elder through his sweaty, dark locks that dangle over his eyes.

Taehyung stood up, fishing for his water bottle before extending it out for Jungkook to take, one hand resting on the younger’s back, “The coolest. After me, of course.” He playfully nudged Kook with his shoulder, about to reward him with an innocent kiss when the rest of their teammates began showing up.

Taehyung made some more room between them, scratching at his nape. He wished they could’ve spent more time alone. 

“I think I’m just gonna sit this one out..” The elder murmured, taking one last look at Jungkook before limping over to the bench, getting greeted by some of the guys.

They asked him about the new bruises, as well as the limp. 

Taehyung lied straight through his teeth, saying that he got in a fight and ‘beat someone’s ass.’

The guys joked about it being a f*ggot, taking into consideration some of Tae’s homophobic remarks in the past.

Taehyung just laughed, like a chameleon blending into its surroundings. 

It was fine, it wasn’t like he actually thought that..

A little bit of acting can’t hurt.

He looked at Jungkook one last time, eyes softening. As long as they didn’t call Kook a f*ggot, he would keep quiet.

Jungkook chugged his water down, eyes following taehyung in confusion, as to why he suddenly distanced himself in the presence of the team-- until the homophobic remarks are echoing, a little confused by why tae would laugh. Maybe kook was just sensitive, but he chose to let it be, a small, cringey smile on his lips at the situation. As long as they didn't keep going on about it-- he would keep quiet.

Jungkook averted the elders eyes during the moment, a bit uncomfortable hearing the words being so casually thrown. Instead, he refocused on stretching a bit before his hyungs will come over to him, catching small glances towards tae.

After stepping into the Gym, Jimin made his way towards Jungkook, a beaming smile on his face remembering yesterday’s events. The shorter would’ve been lying if he said it didn’t make him feel single as fuck..

But, it was okay. His prince or princess charming will come in and sweep him off his feet anytime soon.. at least he hoped.

“Hi Kookie!” Jimin ruffled the other boy’s hair, following his gaze which seemed to lead to Taehyung.

He smirked.

“Looking at your boyfriend?” The elder teased, not knowing how much truth lingered behind his words. The most he knew was that Jungkook and Taehyung liked each other, that’s it.

“Woah, what happened to Tae?” Jimin finally asked in the midst of his stretching, taking notice of Taehyung’s new complexion, dark red with a hint of purple.

Jungkook shrugged at Jimin's questions,

''He got into a fight,'' He wasn't sure what really happened, but it must've been it. What bothers Kook however, is, how did Tae manage to get into a fight from when he dropped kook off at home until the morning? It didn't make sense...

At the mention of 'looking at your boyfriend', Kook wasn't sure if he could expose the fact. The hyungs knew they liked each other, right?

But, he simply decides to avoid the question, finishing his stretching before catching another glance towards Taehyung.

He just wanted this practice over with, so he could spend more time with his new lover.

All Jimin could do was nod, mind wandering back to Taehyung’s ‘delinquent’ years. The latter’s always been someone who kept to himself, but it was in Middle School where a lot of the physical fights began. 

God, the moment Jimin found out was the moment he wanted to beat Tae’s ass. His friend wasn’t violent, he knew that.

Taehyung barely spoke about it, but Jimin was sure that it had something to do with his mother’s death. Not a lot of people knew about this.

“Well, he needs to get that treated before it gets worse.” The elder noted, looking at Taehyung one more time before diving into practice.

After a couple hours of hard work, practice was finally over.

Tae mainly just sat there, staring at Jungkook like a proud boyfriend. Kook was a really hard worker.. It was something that only drew him in even more.

“Fuck, that was tiring.” Yoongi whined, his skin glistening with sweat whilst he changed out of his Basketball attire.

Taehyung didn’t say anything, just waiting for his hyungs and Jungkook to get dressed.

Jungkook wipes his forehead with the sweaty jersey that he’d pulled off his torso, chest heaving as he’s still exhausted from today’s practice. He’d put his everything into it today, he really needed to get all his energy out— so he could manage the rest of the day without being too jittery about his boyfriend.

“Ah, tiring but it felt good.” Kook chimed in before he dug out his clothes to put on.

Quicker than he expected, Taehyung’s sharp eyes enlarged when he looked at the clock.

School was almost out. A few more minutes and he’ll finally be free from the boring lectures and piles of work.

Tae guessed the time ticked by faster than usual because he was doing something he enjoyed. He probably looked like an idiot smiling down at his crotch, texting Jungkook in secrecy.

The boy was a mushy mess..

To: Kook🥴 Don’t take forever this time, I’m gonna give you a ride 😁

The elder pressed send and leaned back in his chair, anxious to hear the familiar bell ring.

Once it did, he was one of the first people to get out of there (per usual). But this time around, Taehyung’s strides were more quick paced.

He wanted to see Jungkook.

The boy waited in the common area, peeking above students’ heads to hopefully catch a glimpse of Kook, rocking on his feet.

Jungkook smiled like a dork when he checked his text. He didn’t reply— he was a rather terrible texter. But the indicator of “read” should be enough.

He strapped his backpack over his shoulder when the familiar bell finally rang, quick on his steps to shuffle through all students to make his way over to the common area, doe eyes searching for Taehyung.

Once he found the familiar face, he also caught a glimpse of another pair of eyes in the crowd. There’s no way he wouldn’t know who those eyes belonged to.

Ash.

Jungkook froze when they made eye contact, however, before he could react, ash had left the area. He didn’t do anything.

Kook was frozen in place, lips slightly agape in shock, momentarily he forgot about his boyfriend waiting for him just a few steps away.

“What’s wrong with you, Kook?” Taehyung playfully nudged Jungkook’s shoulders with his, keeping his hands in the warmth of his pockets despite having the urge to tangle their fingers together.

Too many people around..

“C’mon, let’s go.” Tae swung an arm around the boy’s shoulders, not thinking much of it since he’s seen pairs of friends do the same thing.

As he practically dragged Jungkook towards the exit, Taehyung let out a quiet wince. One of the cuts on his face from his father’s ring stung like hell, small beads of blood oozing from the opening.

If only Tae knew how to bandage himself up properly, this wouldn’t have happened

Taehyung immediately shook his head at the idea of going home, the memories from last night were still too fresh, and apparently so were the cuts and bruises. He didn’t want to risk meeting gazes with his father again, at least not so soon.

What happened last night.. it was new. The most he’s ever endured from the man was a slap on the face, and a lot of mental abuse. But never this..

“I’ll go with you to the store,” Taehyung smiled, shifting his attention to Kook whilst they continued walking to his car, ignoring the injury pricking at his skin.

The elder felt guilty; Jungkook will have to bandage him up again. He should’ve kept his mouth shut and not cared about his father’s toxic decisions. But, he did.

“Then we can hang at your place?” Tae unlocked the doors, sitting on the driver’s seat before turning the key, the somewhat crappy engine starting to run.

Jungkook slumped down in the passenger seat, closing the door with a loud thud. He looks over at Taehyung's face once more, and without thinking his hand reaches out for the elder, as if he wanted to graze his chin with the pads of his fingers,

“Sounds good to me, I really need to patch you up...”

As there were still students around, the sweet gesture Jungkook was offering had the elder turn his head away without thinking, causing kooks hand to stop mid air. He let his hand fall back into his lap, thinking maybe it was too painful for kook to touch him.

“I still don’t get how that even happened?”

“I told you.. I fell.”

Taehyung turned his head back to Jungkook, knowing his excuse was far from believable. But, he had to say something.

And in his mind, something was better than nothing.

He knew he needed to confide in Jungkook some more, but it was hard when Tae couldn’t really admit that to himself. He didn’t want to believe that his only parental figure was an alcoholic, that he didn’t give a shit about him..

It hurt to think of it, much less voice it out loud. Maybe when he, himself, comes to terms with the fact that he basically has no family left, then Taehyung will open up to Jungkook.

Someday..

Not saying another word, Tae drove off to the nearby store.

Like a lost puppy, he followed behind Jungkook, not having any clue where anything was.

“What is it that you need?” The elder asked, letting Kook do his thing while he stayed close, much like a little kid at a store.

Jungkook made his way through the shopping isles, filling up the little basket in his hand with anything from med supplies to some food. He’s been saving up, and he finally could treat himself a little bit.

Well.. he really wanted to treat Taehyung. For dinner. That he’d cook.

Hopefully that wouldn’t be too cheesy.

It wouldn’t be anything too complicated, a simple dinner of rice(the nicer kind!~), meat (a luxury in kooks household), and some sides. Just the thought had kooks mouth watering.

“I’ll patch you up and feed you, is the plan. Sound good?” Kook flashed Taehyung a wide smile, but as soon as his eyes shifted focus on the statures moving further away behind the elder, the same frozen expression from earlier adorned Jungkooks face.

Just, this time, it wasn’t Ash, It was worse.

His parents.

He almost drops his basket, clutching into it before it would slip from his fingers, eyes widening as panic strikes— he needed to get the fuck out.

But all he could do, was to turn his back against them, head hanging low as he struggled to breathe.

Fuck, he hasn’t had an anxiety attack in so long. Why did it have to happen now?

“Yeah, sounds gre— Jungkook?” Taehyung didn’t waste a second before dropping the huge bag of chocolates that he was looking at, settling his hands on the boy’s shoulders as he craned his neck to meet Jungkook’s eye.

“Hey.. what’s wrong?”

Tae’s brows furrowed, worried from the sudden change of attitude.

The younger looked terrified.

“Baby, look at me.” Taehyung whispered so that only Jungkook could hear, gently tilting his chin up with his index finger, “Kook, you’re scaring me.”

The elder wasn’t aware of the pair of strangers behind Jungkook, his only focus being on his boyfriend, as it should be during a time like this one. Tae’s never seen Kook act this way.

Shallow, quick breaths were heaving from Jungkook's chest, his eyes glossed over and blown wide as he stared into Taehyung's eyes. He couldn't get the words out of him even if he tried-- screaming inside of his head to say something.

"Jeon?" A deep voice vibrated a few steps behind Taehyung, the clicking of the man's shoes indicating that he's coming closer.

Jungkooks body was almost shaking at this point, but as soon as his father's voice reached his ears, he stopped. Instead, that face was replaced with a stern expression, jaw clenching as he refused to meet the man's eye.

"Father."

Taehyung didn’t know what to do other than watch the whole thing unfold from the sidelines. 

He stared at the man ahead of them, remembering one of the most shocking words Jungkook had admitted to him the day he took him in. Honestly, with the strong hangover he had, Tae was surprised he still remembered.

But this wasn’t something he could just.. forget. This was huge. Kook’s parents threw him out, for fucks sake. And all because of him..

“Hey.. Jungkook, maybe we should go.” The elder gently tried tugging on the boy’s arm, keeping an eye on his father.

He didn’t want this situation to worsen, it was already uncomfortable enough.

“What, are you not going to greet your own father?” The man stepped closer, a growing frown on his face. He hadn’t seen his son in months, and had honestly hoped that he’d come crawling back to them. But he never did.

Jungkook didn’t say anything, but he could feel the fury build in his body, his biceps clenching as he curled his hands into tight fists.

“And who’s this?” The man clicked his tongue at the sight of taehyung, a small hint of recognition in his eyes, “Ah...” his eyes returned to his son with a mocking grin, “I see. You still haven’t grown up, hm?”

“You know what?” Kook hissed through his teeth, “Go. Fuck. Yourself.” Any moment,, if he wasn’t held by taehyung, he swears he’d end up throwing hands.

The moment the man’s devilish eyes landed on him, Taehyung had trouble staying unbothered. The words that followed after surely weren’t of any help, and Tae wanted to punch that mocking grin off the man’s face.

But, Jungkook’s father wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth their patience, nor the commotion.

“Jungkook, let’s go,” Taehyung said more sternly, “He’s not worth our time.”

The elder glared at the man, his grip tightening on Kook’s arm, as if he was afraid that he’d slip away from his hold. His eyes soon landed on Kook’s mother, noticing how she was keeping her distance from the chaos.

‘Pathetic.’ Was all Taehyung could think, internally judging her for keeping quiet in a public place, when she had no trouble screaming at Jungkook inside of the house.

Jungkook eyes flickered towards his passive mother, his expression mixed. He loved his mother— far more than his father. And he knows she loves him, she was there for him. But she’s too devoted to her husband to have a voice of her own, and it hurt their relationship more than anything.

“Yeah..” kook sighed, his heart beating so hard it could burst any moment from the mix of emotions he’s going through. He didn’t relax in Taehyung's hold, but it did help him feel grounded. Collecting himself, his hand moves to wrap around Taehyung's arm, while the other is still holding the shopping basket.

He had nothing else to say to his father, keeping his eyes on his mother as he pulled his boyfriend close with him to head towards the cashier to get what he needed, leaving behind the two people who told him he’d never make it on his own— that nobody would ever want him.

They were wrong. And that’s the biggest victory of them all.

His father was dumbfounded, frowning as he watched his son leave with the very boy he deemed at fault for his sons...difference. He had nothing else to say right now. He’d wait for him to crawl back when his heart was broken and needed money.

He’s sure of it.

Once they stepped back in the safety of his car, that’s when Taehyung turned to look at Jungkook, his vision no longer set on glaring at the boy’s father,

“Are you alright..?” He asked, not really knowing how to confront someone in a situation like this one. It was messy, “He’s a fucking ass, Kook. They don’t deserve you, it’s their loss.”

Taehyung stated, gaze laced with worry as he waited for some sort of reaction, anything to let him know that Jungkook was here with him/, not hung up in the store with his father. Tae knew it wasn’t that easy, though.

He pursed his lips, moving his hand to rest on top of Kook’s, thumb caressing over the skin.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

Taehyung said ‘home’ as if he lived there as well, not fully aware of his own phrasing yet as he started the car.

As it turned out, Jungkook and him did share one common item: Shitty fathers.

Jungkook felt numbed, his head racing to process the situation. His body had gone through probably every single emotion he was possible of having throughout the span of ten minutes.

He glanced over at taehyung when he started the car, focusing entirely on the features of his boyfriend. He was just... everything.

Home? As if all his anxieties were slowly washed away, they were replaced with warmth. 

Jungkook wouldn’t stop looking at the elder, leaning back into his seat with a content smile pulling on his lips, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m glad that I have you.”

“Okay, this is no excuse for you to be so corny.” Taehyung scrunched up his face in displeasure, acting like he didn’t enjoy Jungkook’s sweet words.

He prayed that the tint of pink dusted over his cheeks didn’t give his obvious acting away, but, his smile surely did.

“I’m..” The elder chuckled, softly squeezing Kook’s thigh. “I’m glad that I have you, too..”

God, Taehyung wished he would have kissed him right there, but he held back. 

It was okay, he’d have plenty of opportunities to kiss Jungkook tonight.

With one last cheeky grin shot at him, Tae drove off to the younger’s apartment, happy that they were out of there once and for all.

Jungkook went back to his old self within the span of the drive home, feeling giddy from Taehyung's words. Never did he ever imagine for this to be his reality. 

But he sure was grateful for it.

As they got out of the car, kook unlocked the door and stepped inside with the elder, making his way to the kitchen to unpack all the groceries on the counter, “Go sit down and I’ll take a look at your face” he glanced over his shoulder as he grabbed the med supplies, “Then I hope you’re hungry,we’re eating good tonight!”

Taehyung did as Jungkook told, plopping down on the couch when— “Fuck..”

For a mere moment, he forgot he was a little sore.

Fuck you, Jeon Jungkook.

With a small grimace, Tae situated himself a little more comfortably, patiently waiting for Kook to join him as he mumbled sour curses under his breath.

“We’re eating out tonight?” Taehyung cocked a brow, looking up at the younger, watching the boy’s every move from his spot on the couch, “I’ll pay.” The elder offered, knowing he had some leftover money left. 

Since Jungkook was his boyfriend and all, Tae wanted to help him. With rent, food, whatever it may be.

Jungkook strolled over with a wide smile before he sat down next to Taehyung, putting the supplies in his lap as he turned his body towards the elders.

“Nope, I’m cooking.” He was excited, raising his eyebrows in a playful manner. Kook loves to cook, and he’s rather decent at it. He just hasn’t been able to show it off because- well, money. 

And he’s never had anybody to cook for.

“Look at me.” He murmurs as he scoots closer, brushing Taehyung's fringe off his face before leaning in to examine the cuts in his skin, “the one on your cheek is deeper than I thought...” he pouted, grabbing a disinfectant pad, “It’ll definitely sting.”

As if it was a natural reaction, Taehyung raised both brows. His mouth went ajar, wondering if he’d heard right.

“You cook?” He questioned, his expression gradually reverting back to normal. Never in a million years did he think that Jungkook would be making him a meal— let alone cook.

Tae was enjoying learning new things about the boy, and he was excited to get a taste of the food.

“You’re pretty, handsome, cute, and talented. What can’t you do, hm?” Taehyung teased, wanting to praise his boyfriend.

Looking at him, Tae slightly tilted his head to the side to give Jungkook a better view of the cut.

He wasn’t looking forward to the stinging part, knowing he was a baby when it came to such things.

“Hey, thanks for taking care of me.” The elder mumbled, trying to stall him. But a bigger part of him truly meant it, and what better occasion to tell Kook rather than now?

''I'm good at everything.'' Jungkook smiled with a spark of mischief in his eyes, but giddy over the praise nonetheless.

He used one hand to gently hold Tae's chin between his fingers, as to hold him in place when he used his other hand to carefully pat the wound, knowing it's gonna sting badly. Kook hisses sympathetically, as if he could also feel the pain when he feels the elder twitching underneath his touch, ''I'll always take care of you, but... I'd prefer if this didn't become a regular thing-- You being wounded, I mean..'''

Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth together, gripping onto Jungkook’s thigh to keep himself grounded.

“Fuck..” The elder hissed along with Kook, wanting the initial discomfort to be over immediately. His face was scrunched up into a frown, but slowly, the strong nip began to fade away. 

The muscles on his face soon relaxed, and so did the grasp on the younger boy.

“It won’t become a regular thing.” Taehyung reassured, bringing up his index finger to feel at the cut on his caramel skin, wincing slightly.

Jungkook finished cleaning his boyfriend's wounds, putting the medkit to the side before shuffling closer to the man, softly cupping his jaw to draw him in for a kiss. Nothing feverish about it, just a soft, slow press of his plush lips onto his, humming in content when he feels the warmth.

He withdraws to look at Taehyung, a small smile pulling on his lips,

''Good. I like your face, so I'd like for it to be bruise-free... Now, are you hungry? I'll start cooking.''

The elder happily gave in to the soft kiss, smiling in the midst of it. 

When Jungkook pulls away, Tae’s eyes are still drawn to his lips, licking over his own at the inviting sight. The elder leaned back into the couch, shyly grinning from ear to ear, east to west. He felt much better, lighter, too.

“I’m always hungry!” Taehyung shouted, excitement obvious in his low voice. The latter couldn’t wait to spend a calming evening with Jungkook, eating delicious food (At least gets hoped..), cuddling— maybe watch some TV?

It all sounded like something he’s craving for god knows how long.

“You need any help?”

''You just need to look pretty and keep me company,'' Jungkook chuckled, getting up from the couch. He wanted to do everything, and give Taehyung a chance to just relax--- And he /really/ wanted to do it perfectly for him to eat.

Kook smoothed the pads of his fingers across Tae's jaw in an affectionate manner before turning to walk into the kitchen to prepare a cutting board, shuffling through his drawers for that one knife he likes to use, ''And I don't want you to accidentally cut yourself, you're clumsy!''

“I’m not clumsy.” Taehyung childishly fought back, pushing himself up from the couch before walking over to Jungkook, wrapping his toned arms around the boy’s waist.

“What are you making?” He questioned, chin resting atop Kook’s shoulder whilst he looked down at the different veggies on the cutting board, eyes studying the way Jungkook carefully handled the knife.

Yeah, maybe he was right. Tae would cut himself, he could be a bit lost at times.. and clumsy.

''Ground beef vegetables stir fry, I've been craving it all fucking day..'' Jungkook already felt his mouth watering at the thought, skillfully chopping up the vegetables before he put them momentarily to the side, grabbing the meat to put it in the sizzling pan, all while having his boyfriend sweetly embracing him. 

This was nice. really nice. Jungkook could get  used to this. In reality, he probably already was, he couldnt imagine being without the elder at this point...

''I'll make a lot, so we will definitely end up in a food coma tonight.''

While everything is finally blended together in the pan, he slowly stirs the food, the aroma of the delicious food filling the room.

''It's almost done, so you could go and pick a movie if you'd like? I have a few dvd's by the tv''

Untangling his arms from around Jungkook’s figure, Tae waltzed over to the TV, crouching down to examine the list of DVD’s that ranged from comedy, action, adventure, fantasy— anime.

Yet another thing Taehyung didn’t know about the younger..

He was a fucking weeb.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, fingers brushing over the plastic, trying to see if a cover caught his attention.

“You like anime.” Taehyung asked, but it sounded more like a statement than anything. 

“Spirited Away? What’s that?” The elder flipped the package over, eyes quickly skimming over the movie description, trying to make sense of what it's about.

“Spirited Away it is.” 

Tae decided, crashing down on the couch with his arms outstretched along the backrest.

Truth be told, he didn’t care about the movie. He just wanted to spend time with Jungkook.

Jungkook hummed a quiet song as he prepared two generous bowls of the finished stir fry, proudly decorating the dish with the colourful garnished vegetables. He always was quite the perfectionist, whether he knew tae would simply gulp it down in an instant or not.

He grabs the two bowls and carries them out to the living room, a beaming smile on his face as he finds the very man that will be the tester of his cooking,

''Did you find a movie? Hurry, hurry, sit down!''

“I am, I am!” Taehyung laughed, his boxy grin on full display as he made room for Kook on the couch, carefully reaching for one of the nicely decorated bowls.

The smell.. if it tasted the way it smelled, Tae was sure he would love it. 

The elder brought the bowl down after sniffing it, picking up a spoonful of the food before shoving it into his mouth. His cheeks were puffed out whilst he chewed thoroughly, humming in delight.

“I like it!” Taehyung smiled through a mouthful, giving Jungkook a thumbs-up for accentuation. It’s been a while since he’s had a nice home cooked meal. It made him feel warm, “I thought it would taste like shit but..” He laughed, eyes crinkling. “I’m kidding~” The elder took it back, pecking Jungkook on the lips after his first bite.

“I like it a lot.” After Taehyung repeated himself, he held up the DVD in front of Kook’s face, “Spirited Away.”

Jungkook was vibrating with joy at the praise, his cheeks flushed at how fucking /cute/ Taehyung could be. It irked a part of JK that was severely less innocent than he usually is.

His doe eyes blinked two, three times as he stared at the DVD cover, grasping it into his own hands, 

''You like anime?'' Kook looks up at the elder, ''This is a really good movie~'' He chimed, moving so close to taehyung that their sides were pressed together. He was excited, this movie is his favourite-- And food, and .. Taehyung.

He wishes this night would just go on forever.

“First time I’ve ever heard of it. Spirited Away, I mean.” Taehyung shrugged, blowing off the steam on his spoonful of rice before stuffing it into his mouth. The elder learned from his mistake; the previous bite nearly burnt his tongue off.

Tae let out a content moan, finding Jungkook’s cooking to be delicious. It definitely beat frozen pizza any day.

He would love to have this sort of meal on a daily basis, but Taehyung was aware of how lacking he was in the cooking department.

After he fumbled with the DVD player, the beginning music was his cue to join Jungkook back on the couch, bowl of food situated on his lap whilst he ate, gaze flickering back and forth between the bright screen and the dish. 

Sometimes, Taehyung would be so into the movie that he’d spill a few grains of rice. And much like a little kid getting caught red-handed, he would look back at Jungkook and hope that he didn’t see a thing.

Halfway through, and the elder’s bowl was squeaky clean, not a single trace of food was left behind. Taehyung was full and entertained, what more could he want?

Surprisingly, he did want something else though.. answers, to be exact. He still couldn’t forget about what happened in the store, quite frankly, Tae’s been thinking about it ever since it happened.

He just wanted to make sure Jungkook was really okay.

The younger had an anxiety attack, it wasn’t just something Tae could brush off..

“Hey, Kook?” The boy turned to look at him, treading carefully with his words, “About what happened earlier.. with your dad, how do you feel?— I mean, are you fine? I know it must’ve been a lot.”

Taehyung mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers.

“When was it that you got thrown out..? Since when have you been living on your own.”

Jungkook placed his empty bowl away and repositioned himself on the couch, knees pulled up close to his body as if he's hugging himself. He turned his head slowly towards Taehyung, a little surprised by the sudden question.

"Hm... I'm okay." He smiled vaguely to prove his point, a small head tilt following,

"Just a couple months." It was more than a couple months, "almost the entire semester? I don't remember... since I joined the team." Kook shrugged, his expression turning sadder,

"It's been... tough." His eyes flickered between the bright tv screen and back to his boyfriend, "But I'm okay now. It was worth it... I just.. seeing them again was like-- everything just came back to me like a fucking wave."

Taehyung acknowledged the younger’s answer with a faint nod of his head, letting Jungkook know that he was listening to his each and every word. Letting him know that he could confide in him— that he was there.

That’s what boyfriends do, right? 

“Your dad’s an asshole..” Taehyung spat, angry that Jungkook had to go through any of that. He couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault— Kook caught feelings, and he made the mistake of trusting his parents.

The elder turned his body to face him, scooting closer.

His attention was no longer on the movie, simply allowing it to be background noise whilst they spoke. Jungkook’s ‘DVD’ about his hardships in life interested Taehyung far more.

“Your mom didn’t take a part of it; she was quiet.” He paused, “Is she like your dad?”

If Jungkooks expression wasn’t sad enough yet, it surely was now. He can handle the topic of his father far better than about his mother—she’s just... well, she’s mom,

“No, she’s... she’s a great mom.” Kook sighed, his shoulders sagging, “She just...chose her husband first when it came down to it.” He shrugged again, “Always did. When it was just the two of us, she was the best mom.. but when he’s around, it’s like I don’t exist.”

The thought in itself had Jungkook eyes glassy with tears threatening to fall to his cheeks any moment. He takes a deep, shaky breath to calm down, but his next words broke him,

“I just wish she—“ his voice breaks into a sob, “ah—fuck...”

Frustration grew into his sadness, biting his lower lip to prevent it from trembling.

It pained Taehyung to see Jungkook like this, so he immediately engulfed the younger in a warm embrace. With Kook’s face pressed up against his chest, the elder’s hand gently smoothed over the boy’s hair, occasionally running his fingers through the loose curls.

“Hey, it’s okay..” Taehyung’s voice was muffled against the side of Jungkook’s head, not pulling away before pressing a chaste kiss on the spot.

When he finally looked into Kook’s glassy eyes, Tae wiped the stray tears away with the pad of his thumb. He didn’t want to see Jungkook cry anymore.

Jungkook breathed in a sniffle, nodding once as he blinked, forcing the remaining tears out of his eye to trickle down to Taehyung's thumbs,

''I'm okay...'' He smiled through the tears, his own hands wrapping around the elder to pull him in for a hug. He really needed it, and the warmth of tae's body was comforting, leaning his face into the crook of his boyfriends neck,

''Because I have you.''

Taehyung swore his world had come to a halt, chuckling softly at Jungkook’s words whilst he rubbed his back, feeling the wetness of Kook’s tears temporarily staining his skin.

“So cheesy..” Tae quietly breathed out, nevertheless burying his nose against Jungkook’s fluffy hair, letting him know that the feeling was mutual even if he didn’t say anything. 

Taehyung was not the most open person, but for Kook, he’ll try to be. The younger had just opened up to him about his past, it was only fair that he did the same.

Tae wouldn’t say everything, but, just enough to let Jungkook know that he wasn’t alone.

“My dad is a drunk.”

Just admitting that out loud.. it was a big step for Taehyung.

He didn’t want to admit that someone he cared for was partaking in something so self-destructing, but it was the truth. It was about time he came to terms with reality.

“He doesn’t like to admit it but, he is.”

Taehyung gulped, jaw clenching.

“After my.. uh..” He had to take a small pause, trying to desperately fumble with his thoughts so they made sense, “After my mom died, he became worse.”

The elder’s mind immediately traveled back to the beating, the constant cursing.. the /yelling/.

Taehyung didn’t know how much he needed to let those demons out until now, in Jungkook’s embrace.

Jungkook's breathing stopped momentarily, processing the information he just heard. For a bit, he remained simply silent, keeping his arms around the elder. Slowly, the embrace tightened further in comfort, nuzzling his nose against Tae's neck,

''It's not your fault.'' He whispered out the words carefully, his hand rubbing circles over Taehyung's back. They both needed this, and they both had each other. Together, they could be stronger, ''I'm sorry...'' He's sorry that Tae had hardships like this on his own, and he was sorry that he couldn't change his reality.

However, he knew one thing for certain;

Taehyung wouldn't have to go through this alone, just like Kook wouldn't ever have to worry about anything, because he had his one strength embracing him already.

“No, don’t be sorry.” Taehyung weakly assured, drowning in the younger’s touch, his own hands losing the steady momentum they once had. Instead, they gripped at the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt, Tae inhaling the younger’s scent as a way to obtain some closure.

Jungkook made him feel comfortable— he made Taehyung’s skeletons easier to reveal.

“Every time I’m with him.. I just, I’m scared, Kook.” He squeezed his eyes shut, fingers digging deeper into Jungkook’s back.

“Every time I’m with him, it makes me miss my mom even more.”

The elder’s hands relaxed, nestling his nose on the younger’s shoulder. He had a strong urge to cry, but he wouldn’t allow himself to.

Taehyung was already vulnerable enough, ‘“She would’ve loved you, you know.”

Jungkook felt torn between his growing anger towards Taehyung's father and the sadness of the long lost mother. Their lives were so different, their families so different--- yet it wasn't different at all.

They were both hurting. They were both treated unfairly.

He pulled back to look at his boyfriend, a small smile shining through his still glassy eyes, ''Yeah?'' His lower lip trembled at the thought-- being loved by taehyung's mother? He wishes he could say the same about his own. Maybe one day.

''Taehyung,'' He whispered as he leaned in closer, his hands moving up to gently cup his face, guiding the elders face so closer to his own that their lips were grazing as he spoke in words so quiet it was barely audible, scared to sound it out properly-- But unable to keep it hidden any longer, ''I love you.''

The elder nodded, mirroring Jungkook’s look of happiness.

Last he remembered, his mother was very open minded. 

When little Taehyung was about to begin Preschool, he was obsessed with ‘My Little Pony.’ So much so that he begged his parents to get him a backpack with the familiar characters on it. 

Heck, it had Rainbow Dash in the front; it was the best backpack in Taehyung’s big, sparkling eyes!

After a lot of begging, his father refused. Instead, the man held out another backpack with the ‘Hulk’ on it. It didn’t matter what his son preferred. It was green, not pink.

That same night Taehyung couldn’t sleep. His parents were fighting again, making Tae bring up his small hands to his ears.

He flinched under his covers at the sound of furniture being tossed around, followed by more yelling.

His papa could get very angry at times..

Long story short, the next day his mother surprised him with the backpack. She wore a dark bruise on her wrist, but Taehyung was too excited to notice.

At the age of four, that backpack was Tae’s greatest possession. He wouldn’t go anywhere without it.

It was too pretty not to show off.

Subconsciously smiling at the memory, Taehyung shook himself out of it, meeting Jungkook’s eye.

“Hm.” The elder hummed, waiting for Kook to spit it out, nuzzling his nose against the other’s as he waited.

God, he wanted to kiss him. Hard.

Then, pushing all of his longing to the side, Taehyung’s eyes went wide. 

His lips were slightly agape, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. No, he definitely heard wrong.. Right?

“You— you love me..?” Tae questioned, frozen in his place.

He didn’t know what to say, he was at a loss for words.

The elder’s heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest, hands clammy and mouth dry.

Taehyung hadn’t heard that phrase in a while, it was a little overwhelming.

Jungkook nods, withdrawing himself a little to get a proper look of Taehyung's reaction. He seemed shocked— frozen. Maybe it was too much. Maybe Jungkook shouldn’t have said that.. anxiety in the form of a heavy weight in his gut appeared, his own eyes flickering between Taehyungs, obvious growing panic. 

Fuck, he should’ve stayed quiet. Maybe this was not at all something tae wanted to hear.

“I... sorry...” it’d just slipped out, and he meant it. But now, he felt scared to have opened himself up this much. What If this scared the elder off?

But he couldn’t lie..

“Yeah.” He whispered weakly, and the vulnerability in his voice was apparent, feeling his heart beat harder and harder until it almost hurt underneath his rib cage.

Kook averted the elders eyes, quickly looking down in his lap as he could basically hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears.

Taehyung wasn’t stupid; he was aware that when two people date, there’s romantic feelings involved but.. love. That’s not just any feeling, it came with a price.

Jungkook loves him. He couldn’t fully process it.

Did the younger interpret the word in the same way? Because to Taehyung, loving someone is to admit that the other person completes you in every way, that they’re the reason that some mornings shine brighter than others— It’s equivalent to the love you have for your favorite videogame, plus a thousand. It’s equal to a lifetime supply of strawberry milkshakes from McDonald’s, because lord knows how much Taehyung loves those. 

To him, that’s love. 

Is that how Jungkook felt..?

Breaking the distance between them, now it was Tae’s turn to sandwich the boy’s face in between his hands, gazing into his doe eyes.

“Thank you for opening up to me,” he whispered, not wishing to make things uncomfortable.

This was the best night he’s had in awhile, Tae didn’t want to ruin it.

Slowly, Taehyung’s lips clashed against Jungkook’s in a soft kiss, taking his time with it this time around, “You taste like vegetable stir fry.” The elder breathily chuckled after withdrawing from the kiss, thumb brushing over Kook’s rosy bottom lip before placing one last peck on it.

“Are you tired?”

Jungkook's eyes widened and softened within moments, his anxiety washed away with the simple gesture of the kiss.

He wasn't rejected, but the words weren't repricocated either. And that's /okay/, he did expect too much too quickly, Taehyung had, after all opened himself up more the past week than he's had in years.

Kook smiled at the comment about his foodie-breath, nodding vaguely at the question,

"Yeah, it's been a long day..." he melted into taes soft touches, feeling his body relax once more, "Do you want to... stay?"

He offered the elder to stay the night, itd be the first time since he'd spent the night, and leaving the very next morning. 

This time he hoped that he'd be able to wake up next to him instead.

"I...you can, if you'd like... I want you to."

“Yeah,” A lopsided smile pulled at the corner of Taehyung’s lips, who was comforted by Jungkook’s calm demeanor, “I’ll stay, but I gotta warn you.. I snore.” 

Taehyung forced himself up from the couch, walking over to the sink to rinse his plate.

He felt lighter, like there wasn’t an excruciating weight on his shoulders sagging him down any longer, like the build-up in his chest had vanished.

The elder might’ve not opened up completely in terms of how he got his recent bruises.. but, someday. Someday he’ll tell Jungkook all of it. But, tonight, it felt like a good start.

Jungkook followed into the kitchen like a puppy, rinsing his plate quickly after taehyung is finished, "That's okay, I kickbox in my sleep." He joked, letting his hand stroke along taes back as he passed him on his way back to the living room, turning off the tv. They'd have to pick up and rewatch the movie on another occasion.

Jungkook strolled over to his bedroom, automatically pulling his shirt over his head out of habit, "I'm ready, I demand a proper cuddle-up!"

The elder scoffed, taking off his shirt as well as his pants, leaving himself in just his boxers.

It was more comfortable that way.

“So you’re a kicker and a little bossy. Unbelievable.” Nonetheless, Taehyung wrapped one arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, drawing him closer after pulling the blanket up to their naked chests.

Tae could feel his feet brush against the younger’s from under the cover, legs practically tangled together whilst they stayed in each other’s arms.

Jungkook chuckles breathily, cuddling up close and positioning himself so that he could press his cheek against Taehyung's chest, one leg and arm tangled on top over the male. He melted into the elders body, softly exhaling a content sigh as he was able to listen to the rhythm of Taehyung's heartbeat, slowly calming down with every passing second.

He could stay like this forever-- he was certain of it. 

Sleep came quicker than he expected, the warmth of safety and love giving him a sense of peace he's never been able to experience since he was a child, when his mother used to hold him to sleep.

After minutes of Taehyung’s eyelids struggling to make up their mind, they eventually fluttered close, pulling the elder into dreamland.

That night, Taehyung slept like a baby. 

His worries were left outside Jungkook’s front door, neglected and alone.

For the first time, he was at peace; holding Jungkook tight.

The only thing that was far from peaceful was Tae’s loud snoring. 

Hell, if it was one pitch higher, it might’ve actually been enough to serve as an alarm for the entire apartment complex.

It was an endearing (noisy) quirk of his, but that was Kim Taehyung.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

[shireness-says]

A Sparking Attraction

Summary: Emma just wanted a nice, relaxing weekend. Who knew her car trouble would be the ticket into her hot's neighbor's pants? Rated E for smut. ~3.7K. Also on AO3.

A/N: Inspired by my recent car trouble. Unfortunately, Emma’s the only one with a hot neighbor to come to her rescue. Thanks as always to @snidgetsafan for her beta-ing!

Tagging the usual suspects: @kmomof4, @teamhook, @profdanglaisstuff, @scientificapricot, @thisonesatellite, @thejollyroger-writer, @optomisticgirl, @snowbellewells, @ohmightydevviepuu, @let-it-raines, @winterbaby89

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

“Goddamn, motherfucking, piece of fucking shit —”

This was, to say the least, not the morning Emma had hoped to have. It was a rare weekend off from the station, and as much as Emma usually loved her job as a Storybrooke Sheriff’s Deputy, a couple days off were much needed after a week where it seemed like the entire town had been out to irritate her personally. Leroy and his brothers had gotten into yet another screaming match, Ella Cruller wouldn’t lock up her dogs again, Victor Whale had been drunk and belligerent at the Rabbit Hole on a goddamn Tuesday night the list went on and on. Emma needs some ice cream and a grilled cheese and probably a stiff drink, and above all to hermit at her apartment and not re-emerge until she’s back to work Monday afternoon. 

Unfortunately, to achieve those pathetically small dreams, Emma has to go to the store. And unfortunately, since Emma has things to do, her fucking car won’t start. Probably the battery. Of course. 

She shouldn’t be surprised, really; it’s not like the Bug is some pristine new machine that’s in perfect working order. She loves that stupid thing, but it’s old, and old cars have problems. The only minor miracle is that hers is a new enough model to have the battery properly in the rear compartment instead of under her back seat. Of course, she doesn’t have one of those handy cordless battery jumpers David is always on her to buy; no, that would be too simple. She’d meant to buy one for a while, but they’re fucking expensive and what were the chances she’d need it anyways?

Famous last words, obviously. 

“Fucking traitor,” she mutters again, scowling at the exposed engine where she’s propped the back hatch up and kicking lightly at one of her tires. Ok, not so lightly, but the car deserves it, even if her toes don’t.

She’s just about to start up with another string of profanity in order to avoid trying to actually fix the problem when a voice calls from behind her - directly behind her, in fact. “Car trouble, lass?” Even if the soft accent and tone of voice aren’t alarming, the proximity is, and Emma claps a hand over her chest above where her heart is spasming. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed his approach in her focus on cursing at the little car.

“Fuck almighty, you scared the shit out of me,” she accuses, whirling around to meet the eyes of her neighbor. It’s Killian Jones, of course; if the accent wasn’t a dead giveaway, her current streak of luck would dictate it anyways. Because of course her effortlessly hot neighbor who Emma definitely doesn’t have anything resembling a crush on, no sir, no way, would show up now when she’s ratty-looking and irritable. At least she showered this morning; it’s a scant blessing. 

At least he has the decency to look a little sheepish. Serves him right, after the scare he gave her. “Apologies, love. I heard a commotion, looked out my window to see your hood popped open, and thought I’d come offer my assistance.” He pauses for a bare second before picking up again, not even enough time for Emma to start responding. “Though really, is it still called the hood if it’s at the back of the car?”

Emma just stares for a moment. “Seriously?”

“You’re right, doesn’t matter,” he concedes. “Do you need any help? I can’t say I’m good at car repair, but I’m decent at taking directions.”

“It’s fine,” Emma replies. “Not my first rodeo with changing the battery in this car. Call me an old pro or something. Don’t worry about me.”

Not that it stops him, a concerned little wrinkle set stubbornly in his forehead. “Well, you’re going to need a new one, right?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“Can I drive you to the auto parts shop, at least?”

Emma pauses at the offer. Honestly, she’d planned to call David; technically, he’s working, but she thinks with some finagling this could fall under the “public assistance” bit of his job description. Emma is always hesitant to accept help if she doesn’t have to - call it an unfortunate remnant of a shitty childhood - but Killian is here, and he is offering. Even if Emma doesn’t want to accept his help on principle, she knows he won’t judge her for taking it or think she’s weak. She may not know her neighbor that well, but he’s never been anything but polite and chivalrous, if a bit flirtatious at times.

(Maybe one day she’ll take him up on that flirting; for now, at least, she can take him up on that offer of a ride.)

She must have been thinking for longer than she thought, because Killian looks like he’s about to withdraw the offer in embarrassment. He’s a stutterer when he’s nervous, Emma’s noticed; not that she’s had much cause to, but in a town this size, it’s impossible not to catch folks in some kind of embarrassment eventually, and she’s seen him with his brother. 

“You know what? Sure, a ride would be great,” she agrees. The way Killian’s shoulders drop in a small show of relief makes her more confident in her choice, especially when he smiles at her in what she almost might call delight. “Let me get the old battery out first, it goes easier when I can just drop the old one on the counter and ask to swap it. Can you grab my toolbox out of the trunk?”

“Of course, Swan.”

With Killian’s help - ok, more like “supervision” - the car surgery goes quickly. Emma’s only had to do this once before, but muscle memory is a powerful thing, and it’s easy enough to detach the battery once she knows what other pieces need to be carefully extracted and set aside to get at her goal in the limited space of the Volkswagen. It’s easy, too, to get a new battery when the owner of the auto parts store is one of Leroy’s brothers who she’d had to deal with earlier in the week - just one pointed glare on Emma’s part, and the little whiny man had quickly gone to get her replacement without any long lectures about how to reinstall it or how some people just don’t take good care of their vehicles. 

“If I didn’t say it before, thanks for doing this,” Emma says quietly as Killian drives them both back to their apartment complex in his little SUV. He’s a careful driver, she’s discovered, navigating them smoothly around corners and executing gentle stops. It speaks well of him, she thinks, that he’s gentle in even this most mundane of activities. 

“It’s not a problem, love,” he smiles. “I promise. Truthfully, watching you work on the car is all to my benefit.” The statement sits in the air for a moment before he continues. “Oh, now that sounds sketchy, doesn’t it?”

Emma laughs. “I mean, I think I know what you mean, but yeah, probably not the best choice of words.” It’s been interesting, watching him bounce back and forth in the months they’ve been acquainted between a suave flirt and this more bashful version of himself. 

Honestly, it’s pretty cute too. 

“I just mean…” He tries again, pauses. “It was impressive. Watching a woman perform her own car repair. Attractive.” He groans. “God, just let me put my foot even further into my mouth.”

“No, no it’s okay,” Emma assures him. “I… thanks, I guess.” It’s flattering, really - especially since she’s been ogling him from down the hall for months now. 

“You’re welcome.” They sit in silence. “So, shall we talk about literally anything else now? Let’s do that. Please.”

Knowing what he admitted, though, it’s hard not to put on a little bit of a show when Emma re-installs the new battery. Maybe she lets her shirt ride up, and maybe she leans a little more exaggeratedly over the rear compartment as she works. So what? She’s a woman with needs like any other, and any desire to spend the rest of her weekend alone has melted as she spent her morning with Jones. 

When the repairs are finally done, Emma slams the hatch back shut and turns to face Killian, whose eyes skate up and down her figure as she slides her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She knows the posture accentuates her breasts and pushes her hips forward into something that almost might be a sway or a swagger; she’s counting on it, in fact. 

“Thanks again for the help,” she tells him, dropping her voice to a more sultry register. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I don’t know about that,” he replies, before slipping into an attitude to match Emma’s own. “If you feel that way, though… well, who am I to argue. Perhaps a… token of appreciation is in order?” He even taps at his lips, the saucy cheeky bastard.

(She’s so going to fuck that.)

Emma can give as good as she gets, though, both in banter and in other, more private things. “Funnily enough, that’s what the thank you was for.” Even as the words leave her mouth, Emma sways further into Killian’s space, proving them to be just a facade.

“Is that all your precious Bug is worth to you?” Killian is close enough that Emma can feel the warmth of his breath wash across her face. She could just tilt her head up the smallest bit and claim his lips…

So she does. There’s absolutely no reason why she shouldn’t, especially since she’s felt this sizzling something simmering beneath her skin, a scorching heat she’s seen reflected in Killian’s eyes, ever since the moment they first ran into each other in the hallway five months ago. He’s just as good a kisser as she imagined, though the way their lips meet is nearly feral in its intensity. He, too, gives just as good as he gets, each thrust of Emma’s tongue met with a parry of his own, all accentuated by a forceful tug to bring her hips into contact with his own. God, it’s good.

Frankly, Emma would be happy to keep at it right here in the parking lot, let their clothes drop into the backseat of the Bug and figure out the logistics of sex in the world’s most cramped car, but there’s the matter of neighbors and passers-by and public indecency. “Inside,” she manages to gasp just as Killian squeezes her ass. Lord only knows how she manages to keep her train of thought after that. “We gotta go inside. Now.” She even pushes him away and towards the door in emphasis.

“Your place or mine?” Killian trots after her as Emma sets a determined pace, still managing to reach the door in time to hold it open for her. Stupid gentleman, they don’t have time for that. 

Vague memories of dirty laundry on the floor decide for Emma. “Yours,” she tosses back to him. If this is going to be more than a one time thing, she doesn’t want his first impression of her place to be an utter disaster. They live mere doors apart anyways; it’s not like there’s one apartment obviously closer than the other. 

The elevator ride to the third floor seems to take forever, but it’s still better than taking the stairs - even if they have to stay in opposite corners to keep from jumping each other in the little box. It’s funny; normally, the enforced distance would cool the fire raging in her blood and knock Emma to her senses, but it only leaves her imagining all the things she wants to do with Killian, to Killian when they finally make it behind locked doors. She wants him, and there’s no denying it.

At least he has the presence of mind to spend the elevator ride locating his apartment keys; once they reach his door, it’s the work of a moment to slip inside. Killian immediately cages Emma against the wall next to the door, trapping both her hands above her head as he attacks her mouth and neck with his lips.

“Been thinking about this for a long while, Swan,” he murmurs against her neck as he finishes sucking what will be a very impressive hickey into her skin. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Oh yeah?” She gasps back. “Me too.” He can take that any way he likes; she means it, regardless.

Abruptly, Killian lets go of her hands only to hoist her into the air. Emma’s legs twine around his hipson instinct, but she’s got other, more important things to worry about - namely, kissing the living daylights out of Killian and the way his toned stomach rubs against her center as he walks them to the bedroom.

She squeals as he tosses her lightly onto the bed, Emma’s body bouncing on impact. Emma scoots up the bed to watch as Killian begins to undress, whipping his t-shirt over his head and starting to reach for his shoes before he notices her staring.

“Are you planning to strip, love?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow. The hunger is evident in his eyes and in the tenting of his pants, which only makes Emma want to tease him.

“Nah, I think I’m just going to watch.”

“Now, that’s not fair,” Killian whines, halting his own disrobing to crawl over Emma’s body again. “I’ve shown you mine, and here you are, still all wrapped up.”

“I mean, technically, all I’ve seen is your chest. It’s nice, but…” Emma trails her hand down the hair and flesh of his abdomen until she hits denim, twisting her hand to squeeze his erection. “It’s not really what I want to see.”

“You make a good point, love.” His voice catches in his throat in restrained pleasure; Emma kind of loves it. “Now, what do you say that I show you some more of what you’re looking for, and you take care of some of your pesky layers?”

To borrow the kind of words he’d use: she’s amenable to that plan.

He’s got a great dick, really, once she’s down to her bra and underwear and he’s bare in front of her. It’s large without being impractically massive and bobs proudly and eagerly towards his stomach. He obviously knows he’s worth looking at, if his confident stance is any indication. God, Emma can’t wait.

“Let me help you with that, darling,” he purrs, moving back into Emma’s space to reach behind her and unclasp her bra. Thank god her most comfortable bra also happens to be her most flattering, and passably pretty at that. Not that it matters when the garment is already on the floor and Killian’s fingers have ducked beneath the elastic of her underwear to draw them slowly down. 

“Like what you see?” She asks coyly as the cotton hits the ground. She already knows her answer if the way Killian peruses her naked form with wide eyes is any indication.

“Only a fool wouldn’t,” Killian comments, “and darling, I’m no fool. I must say, though, I’m a little less interested in looking than in touching.”

“Then you’d better get over here.”

This time, when Emma falls back on the bed, pulling Killian with her, she intends to stay there. 

Killian grinds his cock against her core, the most glorious sensation after all this banter and buildup. Skin-on-skin feels good, satisfying, though not quite enough to satisfy her craving. There’s only one thing that will do that, she knows, and as much as she wants the slick burn of his body within hers, this friction just feels too good to stop. It’s hard to push away the man who’s rubbing against her clit just right. 

Finally, though, her craving is too strong to deny. “Condom?” She asks, pushing lightly at Killian’s shoulders to capture his attention.

“Aye,” he pants, a little breathless in his arousal. “Side table.” He doesn’t take the direct path, however, doesn’t just roll off her and reach for the drawer; he detours instead to her breasts to graze his teeth along a nipple and make Emma shudder in pleasure.

She allows herself to get distracted by his attentions for a moment; it’s been a long while since a little boob play has felt this good. Maybe it’s his own skill; maybe she’s already so aroused from everything else that it’s heightened the sensations. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter as long as he keeps making her moan. There’s greater pleasure to be found, however, and with that in mind, Emma makes herself pull Killian away from her chest with a tug on his thick, dark hair. Killian pouts at the interruption - god, what an adorable idiot - but she’s insistent. Plus, she’s got something even more pleasurable in mind.

“Seriously, Jones. Condom. Sex. Now.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Killian mutters as he finally shifts off Emma to open the drawer and extract a little foil packet. Before he can move to do anything about it, she plucks the condom out of his hand and pushes at Killian until he lays back on the mattress so she can straddle him. 

“So you want to be on top, hmm?” He asks her breathlessly as Emma rolls the latex down his length. As she pumps him with her hand, making sure everything’s snug, he moans. “I suppose it’s a good thing I like a woman in charge.”

“I suppose it is,” Emma replies, rising up to situate his cock at her entrance, “because you’re about to get one.” And with that, she gradually sinks down on him, feeling the burn as he stretches her inner walls.

For all her talk, this part always takes a moment to adjust to, with little rocking motions and shallow thrusts of Emma’s hips until she settles into that perfect angle of penetration. Beneath her, Killian’s eyes are blown wide and dark with lust, and his hands grip at her hipbones.

“You’ve got to move,” he gasps. “For the love of God, you’ve got to move.”

Emma clenches around him, eliciting another moan, before heeding his plea. There’s no reason a woman in charge can’t be a little bit merciful - for both their sakes. The angle is so damn good, especially when she adds a little twist of her hips on each downward thrust. Maybe it’s just because this unspoken thing has been sitting between them for months, but Emma can already feel her pleasure building.

“Want to help a girl out?” She pants as she increases the pace, chasing for the orgasm she can sense just out of reach. When Killian doesn’t immediately move - by the looks of things, too distracted in watching where her body envelops his own - Emma forcibly grabs his hand from where it had been stroking the flesh of her hip and drags it just above where they meet. He can figure it out from there, if he’s half as clever as he acts. 

Sure enough, when he gets with the program, tendrils of sensation start chasing down Emma’s legs all the way to her toes. “You like that, love?” He asks breathlessly.

“Fuck yeah. Just like that,” she gasps out. “Fuck.”

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Killian prattles on beneath her. Emma truthfully doesn’t pay much attention; the way the curl of his accent sets her blood pounding is more important than anything he has to say. Still, he continues. Maybe he knows she’s not listening, maybe he doesn’t; in the end, does it matter? “Come for me, love, I know you want to.”

And with his thumb on her clit and his cock throbbing within her, she does, flying into a flurry of sensation and bliss.

She’s barely come down from her high before Killian flips their positions, sliding out of her heat for the barest of moments before he thrusts back inside. He’s still hard within her, obviously not having found the same release she has. Emma moans as his cock strokes along her inner walls. “You feel so good around me, so tight, darling,” he croons as he sets a steady pace with the snap of his hips. “Do you think you’ve got another one in you? Do you think you can come for me again?”

Emma doesn’t know for certain, but she’s certainly willing to find out.

It turns out, Killian’s a talker in bed when he’s the one holding the reins - little endearments and dirty talk Emma wonders if he’s even aware of saying. She can tell his orgasm is close when the words stop altogether, replaced by little grunts as he works above her, arms braced by her sides and head bowed over her chest. 

He comes with a deep groan just as the tingle of her own release starts to build again; Emma could almost curse in frustration, even if she did already climax earlier. Killian must sense that frustration as he hurriedly drops his hand back between her legs as soon as he’s finished, rubbing furiously at her clit. He pulls out as his cock begins to soften, only to plunge two fingers within her fluttering core instead to thrust and stroke instead. It’s not the same, but it’s enough, and Emma soars over that peak one more time with a mighty exhale of what might almost be Killian’s name. 

“God, that was good,” Emma gasps as she comes back to herself again. Faintly, she’s aware of Killian taking care of the used condom, though she can’t bring herself to care about the details. “Good job team, or… something.”

Killian chuckles as he shifts back to curl around her. “You know, you might even say I gave you a jolt,” he teases.

“Oh, that was awful,” Emma groans, even as she wiggles deeper into his embrace. “Promise me you’ll never say that again, please.”

“I make no promises,” Killian laughs back. “This wit won’t be contained.”

Emma can work with that. After all, she’s she’s currently making several plans that involve him this weekend - and they'll be sure to make sparks fly for as long as their batteries hold out. 

[andormeddows]

Let the rain fall down ::: John Deacon

Pairing: John Deacon x Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader is terrified of thunderstorms, but John’s always there to help her get through them. Fluff!

Word count: 2524

Warnings: A bad written fluff! Also, there’s a bit of swearing.

Notes: I’m having a lot of mood drops lately and I need to forget them somehow. So, I decided to write a John Deacon fluff for y'all! Also because I’m the one who’s terrified of thunderstorms. It’s raining a lot and I’m having to face them all alone, oh, well… Anyway, hope you like it! Sorry for any mistakes. Feedback is always appreciated!

Masterlist is here!

The rain fell heavily, splattering the apartment windowpanes, big and heavy droplets of water quickly ran down the glass. The wind loudly ran through the crack under the apartment door. John slowly pushed the door open, carefully carrying his bass inside a bag. He usually left it at the studio, but he knew he would be playing it that night.

“YN?” he called uncertain, the pitch black apartment was a clearly giveaway that she hadn’t gotten home yet.

A sudden flash illuminated the room, closely followed by a thunder so loud that John cursed. He nervously bit his lips as he propped the bass bag against the wall behind the apartment door, closing it behind him. YN was supposed to be home by then. The fact was that she was stuck in the library of the university, too afraid to move because of the rain. She had always been terrified of thunderstorms.

She had planned to leave the university early, where she had been working on her research in order to conclude her master’s degree in Chemistry, but her tutor had prevented her from doing so. He kindly dedicated his night to trash every single word she had written so far. There she sat, alone, notebooks and heavy books opened in front of her scared figure while she listened to the rain splattering the high windows. Thoughts about her tutor’s rather harsh words were long forgotten as her body shivered at every flashlight that ripped the cloudy night sky and at every thunder that blasted through her ears.

Lamps were lit on the wooden tables across the gigantic library. There were a few graduation students devouring books before a day of long exams in a desperate try to learn everything they possibly could. She averted her gaze back to her writings and the opened books. The lights faltered slightly as a sudden flash invaded the library, causing YN to desperately close her eyes as a deafening thunder resonated through the silent place.

“Honey, do you want a ride home?” her long-time friend whispered-asked, touching YN’s shoulder lightly.

“Oh, I’m fine,” YN answered, quite scared at the sudden interaction. “I still have these books to read by the end of the night. Something’s going wrong with the experiments at the laboratory.”

“I’m sorry.”

YN shrugged, wincing at another flashlight. “It’s alright.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home? It wouldn’t bother me at all.”

“I’m fine, really. John’s picking me up, by the way,” she quickly lied. God, she was becoming an expert in forging lies. “Thank you for offering the ride. Please, drive safely.”

“I will, YN, don’t worry.”

She disappeared through the high shelves. YN sighed, closing her eyes once again. It was actually pathetic, wasn’t it? Being terrified of the rain as she was, she felt like a whiny five-year-old child. She felt nauseous at the noise of the droplets of the water being so violently thrown against whatever windowpanes; she felt threatened by the roughness of the flashlights and the thunders; she felt weak facing Nature’s force.

John, on the other hand, never underestimated her fears, nor thought they were childish. He needn’t any explanations; he needn’t it to make sense. Seeing that, after a long hour waiting, there was no sign of her, John snatched the car keys from its hook by the apartment door and rushed downstairs. He knew she wouldn’t dare to step outside until the rain had stopped. He also knew exactly where to find her.

He drove carefully through the rainy night. The windshield wipers moved fast, the droplets of water insistently blurring the glass. The soft music on the radio could faintly be heard as he firmly gripped the steering wheel between his hands.

“YN, love,” John’s soft voice reached her ears as his wet hands reached her shoulders. She cringed away at the sudden contact. He felt her tense muscles through the fabric of her thin button up shirt.

“For God’s sake, John!” she exhaled, a relieved laugh escaping from her lips as her hands reached her chest.

He smiled, pressing his lips against the top of her head, a few droplets of water falling upon her. After parking by the university, the walk to the library had been quite long. His hair was damp, clothes stained by the cold water, shoes drenched.

“I couldn’t leave my girl alone on a rainy night,” he whispered against her cheek, softly pressing a kiss to her skin.

YN’s face turned a slight shade of red at those words, retreating herself from his touch. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no. Hell, no! Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, pulling at the empty wooden chair beside her and quickly sitting down, one of her hands in between his larger ones. “I’m picking you up. Let’s go home, love.”

She nodded, gulping slightly. John helped her gather her mess, closing the books she had been fake-reading since the rain started pouring. She shoved the notebooks inside her bag as he quickly went to the front desk in order to ask for a book loan. After stuffing the books into her bag, he seized it in his hands and both of them reached the heavy wooden doors.

“We’ll have to run to the car,” John bit his lips. “Is that okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” she faintly answered.

“I’m right beside you, don’t worry,”

The minutes spent running were anxious ones. YN would cringe at the flashlights, crying out in fear as the pitch black campus surrounded her. John quickly unlocked the car, shoving her bag in the backseat as she hurriedly reached the passenger seat. Soon, he followed, reaching the driver seat and closing the door thud. The muffled sound of the rain reached their ears. As John started the car, the soft sound of the music coming from the radio caused YN to snuggle into her seat.

“Thank you, John,” she murmured, reaching for thigh and squeezing it softly in a caring gesture. Their eyes locked for a split second, John smiled as he saw in her gleeful eyes how much those words meant.

“As I said, I couldn’t leave my girl alone on a rainy night,” he uttered as his fingers gently wrapped around her hand on his thigh, bringing it to his lips and pressing a light kiss against her skin.

The drive back to their shared apartment was silent. It was a comfortable silence, though. YN had her eyes closed as John sang along with the songs played on the radio. His voice had a delicious soothing effect on YN’s tense muscles.

As they reached the apartment, John instantly helped her get rid of her damp coat. “What do you think about having a relaxing bath?”

“Hm, will you join me?” she asked innocently.

“Do you want me to join you?”

She bit her lips as a shy smile found its way to her features. John pecked her lips, taking that as a ‘yes’. “Go ahead, then. I’ll join you in a few minutes. I was planning on preparing a mug of hot chocolate. I’m just gathering the ingredients… Or do you prefer tea?”

“Hot chocolate, please.”

YN reached the bathroom, turning the lights on. She could still hear the rain splattering the windowpanes around the apartment, the wind still violently tried to break inside as it hit the fierce building. She quickly filled the bathtub with steaming water, concentrating in the gentle flow of the transparent liquid through the silver faucet.

“Fuck!” she screams as a thunder echoes outside, so loud it seems a bomb exploded right beside their block of apartments. The lights faltered and YN rummaged through the bathroom in order to reach the door and run to John’s warm embrace.

However, before she could give more than two steps away from the bathtub, the lights wholly went out. YN froze in the spot, nervously digging her nails in the palms of her hands as a strangled cry escaped from her lips and a wan expression found its way to her features.

John’s heart raced as he rummaged through the cupboards in search for a candle and some matches. Soon, his face was illuminated by the bright orange firelight of the candle as he slowly made his way to the bathroom, firmly gripping the tea plate to which he had glued the candle.

“You’re safe, love,” John whispered as he propped the tea plate on the marble sink.

YN nodded eagerly, exhaling in relief. John filled the bathroom with candles, creating a comfortable dimly lit yet romantic atmosphere, breaking the chaotic one created by the thunderstorm. As YN slowly stripped naked, shivering at the cold air that invaded the bathroom, John filled the bath with bubbles. He happily splashed the water so that more bubbles formed, some reaching the tiled floor.

“This is good enough,” she uttered, a gleeful smile on her lips as she approached the bathtub.

“It’s perfect!” he exclaimed, quickly getting rid of the shirt he wore.

YN got into the bathtub, slowly letting the steaming water engulf her tense muscles. “God, this is marvelous.”

She inhaled deeply before submerging in the water. Whipping her eyes and blinking a few times because of the amount of bubbles that surrounded her, she laughed slightly, looking around for John. He watched her features softening as she entertained herself with the bubbles.

“Come on! Are you staying there?” she motioned for him to approach the bathtub, stretching one of her lathery hands in his direction

Sitting up, she gave him room to accommodate himself behind her. She rested her back against his chest as his arms wrapped around her slippery body, gently kissing her shoulders. “Are you feeling better?”

“Absolutely. Thank you, John,” she murmured, turning her upper body in order to face him and pressing a kiss to his lips.

Their intimate moment seemed to push her previous fear to the back of her mind. The thunders kept echoing outside, but John’s presence was enough to make her feel safe. The candled slowly burned out as John kissed every bit of her skin he could reach, massaging her tense back and gently washing her hair, brushing his fingers at her scalp and making shivers go down her spine. She had her eyes closed as he washed her body, his fingers deliciously pressing against her skin.

“Your turn, come on,” she whispered against his fingers as she pressed light kisses to them.

Both of them shuffled in the bathtub, slopping water and bubbled all over the tiled floor. John now had his back pressed against her chest, propping his head on her chest as she cupped water in her hands, gently letting it flow through John’s soft hair. He closed his eyes, smiling cheerfully at the tingling sensation that ran through his veins.

The soft splash of the water was nothing compared to the big droplets of water that still hit the windows. Honestly, he preferred that relaxing sound either. After the water had cooled down enough to make them shiver, both of them left the bathtub, wrapping their bodies in fluffy towels. A few candles had their firelight extinguished.

YN was already snuggled on the living room couch, a few pillows pressed under her relaxed body when John finished cooking the hot chocolate. He reached the candle lit living room holding two mugs. Sitting down beside her, she pressed her head to his chest and both of them snuggled together on the couch.

“This one’s for you,” John handled her one of the mugs in his hands.

“But this is your favorite mug,” YN frowned, uncertainly wrapping her fingers around it.

“For my favorite girl,” he laughed heartily, winking at her as YN smiled brightly.

“Cheesy,” she murmured as she leaned back again against his chest. “How your day at the studio?”

John’s heart leapt at those words. He had been anxiously waiting for that moment. John loved to talk about his days at the studio, his eyes lit up in a way YN had never seen anyone’s eyes lightening up before. Due to his known enthusiasm and excitement, he shyly looked down at their intertwined hands.

YN rolled her eyes, quickly turning her body in his direction, sitting cross-legged on the couch. “You know you can tell me.”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“Go on, then,” she encouraged him, taking a sip at the hot beverage.

“Well, it was… It was pretty good,” he smiled sweetly. YN could hear the happiness in his voice. “I wrote a new song, you know. I have been working on it for a while now and I finished writing it a few days ago. So, today I showed it to the boys. Freddie loved it.”

Fondness was what he was all about when Freddie’s name escaped from his lips, which had YN smiling lovingly at John. God, she loved to hear him talking about music. It was one of the most beautiful things she had seen in her entire life. He was so passionate about it, that she was inspired by him every day to become a musician as well.

“Do you have a name for it already?”

“’You’re My Best Friend’,” he told YN, taking a sip from the hot chocolate. “Hm, this is good!”

“Stop it!” she playfully punched his arm.

“Are you telling me you didn’t like it?”

“I like it! You know I do, John,” she laughed, pecking his lips. “Now, tell me… Did you and the boys polish it up, then?”

“Yeah, we did,” he anxiously answered without being able to hold back a smile.

YN bit her lips. She knew John was waiting for that question. “Would you play it for me?”

He laughed. “Yes, of course!”

“Oh, fuck!” she hissed as another extremely loud thunder reached their ears and John got up from the sofa, propping his mug on the coffee table.

He reached the couch once again, holding his bass. Sitting cross-legged in front of YN, he propped the instrument on his lap. About to play it, he licked two of his fingers before plucking away at the strings. He quietly sang the lyrics, which had YN closing her eyes in pure happiness.

His soft voice would reach her ears, accompanied only by the bass line. She loved to listen to the non-recorded raw songs, being able to identify each of John’s bass lines when they ended up being recorded.

“This is beautiful, John,” she whispered, opening her eyes.

“Is it?” he asked uncertain.

“Definitely! The boys must’ve loved it.”

“It’s way better when we’re all playing it together.”

“It’s not. I like to listen to you playing and singing along, something you don’t do a lot in the studio.” she uttered, reaching for his hand idly propped against the bass strings.

“Thank you, YN,” he sincerely said.

She smiled and leaned against his soft lips, kissing them passionately. A flashlight invaded the quiet living room and the thunder which followed it had John jumping up, his muscles suddenly tensing as he swore against YN’s lips.

“Oh, well…” she laughed as his cheeks turned a light shade of red. “Someone’s scared.”

[jowritesthingss]

Liar, Liar

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): n/a (familial DLAMPR)

Rating: General Audiences

Content Warning(s): fire (nobody’s hurt tho), strong language...boi (that’s a joke they’re kids there’s not rly strong language beyond anx saying “dang it” too much for pat’s liking)

Length: 2,420 words

Brief Summary: Janus wasn’t always as cool and collected a liar as he is now. Also, the split of Creativity because why not.

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

*

 “MORALITY!” Creativity shrieks, racing into the living room and colliding at top speed into said side.

With a loud “oomph!”, Morality reaches out to enclose a seven-year-old Creativity in his arms, rocking the other side reassuringly. “Wh-what’s wrong, Creativity?” he struggles to pant through having his breath completely knocked out of him.

“D-Deceit’s being meeean to me again!” Creativity whines into Morality’s shirt.

Morality looks accusingly up at Deceit, who stands faux-innocently in the doorway.

Deceit shrugs. “No I’m not,” he defends himself. “I’m just telling the truth. Creativity is a big, weird, whiny baby. It’s a fact.” He points at Logic smugly. “Ask Logic. He’ll tell you.”

Cuddled up in his corner, Logic looks up from some fourth grade science textbook that he probably already knows cover to cover. “Please do not bring me into this little tiff of yours,” he says imperiously. After a moment, the facade melts, and he brightens. “Didja like that word? ‘Tiff’? It was the word of the day in Language Arts today, not that any of you were paying attention. It means—”

“Oh, shut up, nerd,” Deceit and Creativity chorus and well, at least there’s something they can agree on, Morality supposes.

Disappointed, Logic’s face sinks into a pout. “Fine.” His lip wobbles dangerously. “I can see when I’m not needed.”

And with that, Logic sinks down, presumably off to go bother Anxiety instead.

Morality knows that he should really go after Logic and reassure him that no, he really is needed, and they all really do love him. But with Logic no longer in the living room causing a distraction, Creativity and Deceit start to go off at each other again.

“You’re a booger head,” Deceit hisses, triumphant. “Logan’s the stinky poo-poo side, and you’re the booger side, you...you lame person.”

“No! I’m not a booger!” Creativity protests, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “J-just ’cos I thought it was a kinda dance that one time d-doesn’t make me the—the—”

Morality tries to gather Creativity back up in his arms, but Creativity pulls away from him, stubbornly glaring at Deceit even as tears start to pour down his trembling cheeks.

Deceit laughs, pointing a finger at Creativity. “And now you’re a crybaby! So you’re the crybaby side too?”

“H-hey, Dee, you really need to st—” But Morality’s pathetic attempt at crowd control is drowned out by a rapidly crescendoing siren.

Creativity is now openly wailing, his feet planted and his head tilted to the ceiling and his mouth gaping wide, and oh, dear, that’s never good.

Whenever Creativity starts to cry, it’s a toss-up as to whether he’ll hide in his room for a week or rampage through the entire mindscape destroying things. There’s not really an in-between, and there’s no way to tell which he’ll do each time.

“You’re—you’re a liar! You’re nothing but a liar!” Creativity asserts, his voice panicky and patchy and tremulous. He points a shaking finger at Deceit in return, trying to laugh at him, but the result is rather pitiful. “Liar, liar, pants on fire!”

Then, all at once, Creativity shifts.

The tears dry up abruptly, and a too-wide, disconcerting grin spreads across his face.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Creativity says lowly, smiling way too much for someone who had just been in the darkest pits of despair.

Morality sucks in a breath, holding it, uneasily wondering what Creativity is planning.

Deceit has the decency to look slightly abashed, but he holds his ground nevertheless.

And then his pants burst into flame.

-

Morality is the first to scream, pointing a horrified finger at Deceit’s pants.

Deceit, wanting to know what Morality is screeching about, looks down...and promptly begins some screeching of his own, accompanied by little terrified hops all over the place. He dances around the living room, as if that’ll somehow magically douse the fire, but the extra exposure to oxygen only seems to be doing the opposite.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire. Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Creativity chants delightedly, a manic look on his face.

Logic abruptly rises back up to see what the ruckus is. He takes one look at Deceit running around, body engulfed in flames, and Creativity chanting not unlike a cult member, and Morality screaming...and he sinks back out.

A few moments later, a thoroughly reluctant Logic rises back up, being dragged by a fuming, worried Anxiety.

Anxiety surveys the scene in front of him for one, two, three seconds. Then—

“Deceit! Stop, drop, and roll already, you dummy!” he yells over the din, his voice slightly distorted. “Creativity, you weirdo, stop chanting, dang it!”

“L-language,” Morality mumbles brokenly, eyes wide as he watches the scene in front of him slowly begin to wind down.

Deceit pauses for a moment as Anxiety’s instructions sink in. Then he stops. Drops. Rolls.

Right onto the couch.

Setting the couch on fire.

“NO, dang it!” Anxiety screams, voice fully distorted now, and Morality is much too concerned with the six foot wall of raging flames to call him out on his strong language.

“Morality, a little help here!” Anxiety calls across the room, and the distorted, fully unadulterated panic shocks Morality into action.

It’s time for the Dad Voice. Morality sucks in a big, smoke-filled breath. He chokes. Sucks in another, more careful breath. Tries to make it look vaguely cooler this time.

“STOP!” Morality hollers, his voice magnified, deep, and booming over all the screaming coming from the other sides.

Everyone stops.

Logic stops mid eye-roll. Deceit stops stop-drop-and-roll-ing. Creativity stops chanting. Anxiety freezes in place. Even the fire all over Deceit and the sofa listens to Morality, slowing and shrinking and quickly petering out.

“That is enough,” Morality asserts. Gosh, he hates pulling the Dad Voice card on everyone, especially since they’re all basically the same age, and it always makes him feel so bad. But the cacophony going on in Thomas’ mindscape really was enough. If it got any worse, it would start to affect Thomas in the real world. “Deceit, stop calling people mean names. Creativity, stop setting people on fire.”

The two sides in question reluctantly mutter their assent.

“I’m telling Anxiety on you,” Deceit threatens Creativity under his breath.

“What the—dude!” Anxiety throws his arms up in the air, frustrated. “I’m literally right here,” he snaps, thoroughly Done with everything and everyone. “Who d’you think told you to stop, drop, and roll?” He mutters something illegible to himself before raising his voice again. “God, I wanna say a bad word so much right now but Mo would kill me.”

Deceit looks up and over at Anxiety. He stares quietly for a moment, astonished. Then tears begin to well up in his eyes—real tears, for once, not the crocodile tears he likes to pull on Morality to get what he wants. “I—I—Anx!” he blubbers, racing over to Anxiety and burying himself in the slightly taller side’s arms without prompting. “C-Creativity set me on fire! I was just pretending with him and he set me on fire!”

Chagrined, Anxiety looks at Morality from over Deceit’s head. He rolls his eyes and shrugs, a ‘what can ya do’-type gesture.

Morality returns the gesture before sternly turning to handle Creativity. “It doesn’t matter what Deceit said or did to you,” he says. “We do not set people on fire. You will apologize. Right. Now.”

“B-but!” Creativity protests feebly. “He...he started it though.”

“And I’m ending it. Right here, right now. Now.” Morality places his hands on his hips, staring down at the suddenly-meek side in front of him, quite a far cry from the crazed lunatic that had been present not two seconds ago. “Creativity. I believe you have something to say to Deceit...?”

Creativity nods earnestly, eyes wide and pleading. Then his eyes harden, and he shakes his head. “Yes—no. Yes. Uh.” He buries his face in his hand and peeps out at Morality, as if that can protect him. “M-maybe?”

“Uh-uh. There is no maybe in this, mister. It’s either a yes or a no.” Only a yes, really, but Morality’s gonna let the kid choose his own fate, even if that means he gets himself grounded for a month.

“Y-yes. Nooo.” Creativity clutches at his face, dropping to his knees on the ground. He lets out a pained cry, then, to everyone’s utmost surprise, two strange voices sound in contrast to each other.

“Yes!” one of the voices shrieks, delighted.

“No!” the other strange voice protests in tandem, defiant.

A flash of bright light—brighter than even the flames that had so quickly covered the still-smoking, now-singed sofa. Forced to look away, the sides all cover their eyes, squinting at the incredible brightness.

There is a yell—of pain?—of triumph?—and then, just like that, the light is gone.

-

Logic is the first one to chance opening his eyes, ever the curious soul and wanting to know what just happened. What he sees in the place where Creativity once stood makes him stop and stare, mouth hanging open.

Where Creativity had been standing in the middle of the living room, there are instead two strange new sides—one red, and one green. They both sit, curled up on the floor, disoriented and blinking up at everyone in a sort of tired confusion.

Logic steps forward. “Who...who are you?” he asks, his want to know overruling his wariness. The two of them just look so familiar, but Logic can’t for the life of him figure out why.

The two look up at him in tandem, cocking their heads with alarming similarity. They open their mouths.

“Why, I’m Creativity, of course!” they speak in unison, smooth versus garbled speech.

The two of them freeze, turning to face each other, eyes wild.

The green one’s face stretches into a wide grin. “Yes...it worked.”

The red one begins to shake his head rapidly. “No. Nonono. This isn’t happening. You’re not Creativity. I am.”

“No,” the green one says. “No, we are Creativity, brother.”

“Uh.” Morality clears his throat, guardedly inserting himself into the conversation. He swallows hard when the two supposed Creativities swivel their heads to look at him in unison. “Where’s...are you guys Creativity?”

“That’s what we just said, isn’t it, Mo-mo?” the green Creativity simpers, a sickly sweet smile on his face that he turns on Deceit next, standing up and walking over to him and Anxiety.

Deceit cowers into Anxiety’s side as the Creativity approaches him. He peeks his head out, hastily mumbling out a tiny, “’m sorry about...about calling you names.”

“It’s okay!” the green one says brightly. “I thought they were cool names. I like the idea of being the booger side. It matches my new color scheme!” As if to demonstrate, he picks his nose, wiping it on his new black-and-green outfit. “My brother is just a baby.”

Deceit smiles hesitantly, untangling himself from Anxiety and chancing a few steps in the direction of this new Creativity.

“Ew, gross,” the red one says, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “I don’t like you. You’re a stupid Creativity. I should set you on fire too.”

“Now, uh, Creativity,” Morality steps in again. “We just went over this. Uh. With you when you were...one Creativity?” Patton flounders, unsure of what to refer to either Creativity as. “Don’t make me go through it again now that you’re...uh, two.”

The red one sighs loudly, annoyed. “Fineee!” He pouts before sidling over to Logic. “Nice specs, four-eyes. What are you, a nerd?”

“Yes, and I like it,” Logic shoots back.

The two engage in a heated conversation, but it doesn’t seem quite so heated as the literal fire that had been raging through the mindscape under five minutes ago, so Morality decides to ignore it for the moment. He zeroes in on the green side, who seems slightly more troublesome.

“Y’know, I can teach you how to light fires like that!” the green Creativity is saying to Deceit, who seems much more interested in the idea than is strictly healthy. “That way we can light my brother on fire as revenge! The fire was my idea, of course, he’s not smart enough to come up with it on his own. But he’s the one who actually decided to do it.”

Green Creativity grabs Deceit’s hand with one of his (oh, gosh, that’s the booger hand, ew), and Morality watches as the two race over to the basement door, disappearing behind it.

Morality and Anxiety stare each other down, silently battling to see who is sentenced to the grisly death of going down into the basement after the two clear troublemakers.

Eventually, Anxiety relents. “I’ll go make sure they don’t get themselves killed,” he sighs, absolutely Done with the world yet again (let’s be honest, though, does he really have any other state of being?). “You three just try not to, um, burn down the house again, please?”

“Will do, Anxie!” Morality says nervously, waving a nervous goodbye as the purple side slinks into the basement, snapping the door shut behind him.

“No promises,” Red Creativity and Logic speak up in unison from behind him, then they devolve back into their tits—their—oh, what was that weird new-fangled word Logic had used earlier? gif? tiff?—they just go back to their argument, okay.

Morality turns to face the two of them, trying to feign a smile. After a moment, though, it wriggles off his face, and he sinks his head into his hands, sighing.

Poor Thomas, for having all of these dodos as his sides. Poor Morality, for having to deal with them. He doesn’t get paid enough for this. (He doesn’t get paid at all, who’s he kidding. Is it too late to ask for a different human?)

Turning up the 500-watt smile again, Morality marches over to Logic and this new Creativity. He plants himself between the two of them, internally forcing himself to come to terms with this. This is his new reality now.

“All right, break it up!” Morality instructs. “Mom’s making homemade macaroni tonight and if you make Thomas act out again, we won’t get any!”

Creativity and Logic immediately freeze.

“No!” Red Creativity laments. “Not the macaroni! We mustn’t lose the macaroni!”

“Indeed, that would be...not good,” Logic agrees seriously, nodding his assent.

The final crisis averted, Morality sighs in relief.

And just like that, peace returns to the mindscape of one Thomas Sanders.

Well. Just for the moment, at least.

(Tomorrow, when Green Creativity tries to put slugs in his brother’s pants, all bets are off.)

Fin

*

May I present to you: the real reason behind the Creativity split—a tantrum, pure and simple. And as for why Deceit ran away from and detested the light sides—utter embarrassment.

Want to be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

[spookysnicket]

@slasher-sweetheart: I really appreciate it bud, I’m just having a bit of a tough time irl and reading the fanfics and imagines and such really helps me calm down. Can you write for Brahms with an emotionally walled off S/O who finally cracks and she’s afraid of how he’ll react cuz she’s broken his “Big strong nanny” image?

---

(Okay, so I said this would be out yesterday and I sincerely apologize- but I got way too absorbed by the prompt and ended up writing more than I’d expected, it just kept snowballing. I hope the wait was worth it and that you enjoy! TW: Angst! About 1.5k word count, fic under the cut!)

Brahms, for one damned reason or another, had been acting particularly difficult all throughout the day. Perhaps since he’d woken up had he felt the need to be troublesome. Once again, he rejected your morning kiss for the third time as you’d tried to wake him from your bed. Brahms is not worth deeming an early bird, yet the denial of any one of your affections is a foreboding caveat- an unmistakable sign you’d learned that means for you to prepare for a very bratty Brahmsie. 

It seemed he was your own personal rain cloud, trudging along your side- complaining about this and giving you a hard time doing that. You assumed he’d just been testy, and rightfully so. Brahms always seemed to enjoy pursuing the depths of your patience and placidity.

It was now the end of the day, and you at the end of your wits. Brahms was pouting off in the doorway after you’d told him he hadn’t earned dessert with all his ‘stunts’ and bad behavior. It was about now you’d have him go upstairs and run the bath for you both before bed as you finished washing the dishes- but you didn’t feel like wasting your breath on one single more ignored request. You groaned and swiped up the barely eaten plates of dinner. Tension had alleviated any appetite you had, and Brahms, of course, had lots of critiques with tonight’s meal- far too many in fact, to even touch what you’d spent a good couple of hours preparing. You almost threw the plates by the sink and propped yourself against the counter to catch your breath. Calm down. Breathe. You were fed up, and acceptably so after dealing with that pathetic, useless, ungrateful, whiny little- calm. 

Tremors- your hands quivered with seething impatience as you glared down at them. Do something. Something to take your mind off him. You looked up to the eye level cupboard in front of you and swung it open, reaching in to find a rather irritating looking stark white porcelain teacup. You set it harshly to the counter with a ringing clunk and half closed half slammed the door shut, hurriedly searching for a kettle.

“You should’ve asked if I wanted some, Y/n.” Brahms prodded in his muffled scrutinizing voice, once again ready to push at your limits.

“I know you don’t like tea, Brahms.” You gritted his name through your teeth with as much ‘final warning’ in your tone as you’d been able to muster without screaming, then continued looking around the kitchen.

He paused and considered his words, “Well, it’s still rude.”

“That attitude of yours is rude.” 

“Pardon?” Your back was to him, but you would’ve laughed at the way you knew he straightened his posture with surprise at your rebuttal, had you not been on the verge of tears with utter frustration.

“You’ve been terrible today, absolutely awful, horrible!” You clamped the tips of your fingers to the teacup, which felt frigid against your burning body, until the area around them was almost as white as the cup itself. “I can’t do this Brahms! I can’t fucking stand you- you and this house! Your damn rules and your damn schedule! The damn doll! You’re as careless and lifeless as that goddamn doll!” You aimed to damage, maim even. You wanted to tear him up as much as he’d torn away at you piece by piece all day. You shook and trembled with stressed tears now parading down your face. In the last bout of anger, you slammed the cup against the floor before falling to the hardwood yourself. Brahms jumped at the sound of shattering porcelain and watched you from across the room, now in a state of shock.

This is what he wanted, so he thought. You’d finally snapped, and all Brahms could do was silently watch it unfold just a few feet before him. At first, he was furious- and admittedly, deep down he even wanted to hurt you. You spoke to him like that? What had gotten into you!? That crude tone and those absurd profanities. And why were you saying all those things, those terrible things? You’d said you loved him. Why were you on the floor? Are you crying? It was just a game. Y/n, it was a game. Please don’t be mad. His thoughts were bustling, but his mouth and all the rest of him was absolutely still while you shuddered and wailed on the floor.

An all too familiar feeling began to conjure itself in his chest. Slowly, as each one of your insults and remarks finally dug deep enough into meaning, and buried themselves with pinpoint accuracy in every tender, delicate place- he began to drown in it. The feeling was agonizing, the way it ate at his aching heart and made it burst like a dam, dreadful regret flooding his body and resonating with your heartbreaking ensemble of tearful slanders. The fear pulsed through him in waves and his heartbeat fluttered like a teetering glass on the edge of a counter. It felt eerily similar to when mummy and daddy would scold him. Just like then, they would reprimand him for playing ‘games’ perhaps he knew he shouldn’t have played- but wouldn’t have dared to after seeing how upset it’d make them. Just like then, he shrunk. He shuddered at raised voices, cringed at painful words, yet stood frozen into place to take it all in with wide eyes that cascaded warm wet trails down a dead-cold ghostly pale face. Only now though, the salty tears pooled between his mask as he too fell to his knees, body buckling as if his mind had also told him enough was enough, and held him down so he couldn’t make things any worse.

It felt like maybe an hour or so had passed for you both to reduce to hushed wordless sobbing. You were at the end of your breakdown, yet in a strange way you only felt worse. You wallowed in sniffles and grief, eyes regaining focus against the dry sting that follows a good cry. You traced the outline of each shard that’d fallen from the smashed teacup with eyes half lidded, tying to remember, or rather forget every word you said to Brahms. How the hell do you fix this?

“Please don’t leave.” The words were small and startlingly close, shaking you from your mind. Brahms had quietly shuffled his way over to you while you’d become absently entranced within your thoughts. “I didn’t mean to make you so angry. I didn’t know.” His head hung down and his hands where tucked between his folded legs, yet he seemed to noticeably flinch under your gaze. “I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“I won’t leave Brahms. I wouldn’t ever.” You sighed, and quickly wiped away whatever unsightly residue laid on your face, maneuvering your body towards him. “And I didn’t mean any of it, I’m sorry too.. Are you mad at me?” You whispered as if your voice might scare away the silent peace. He stayed quiet, which worried you. Picking up a hand up to touch him, you hesitantly held it back once his head jerked above his shoulders. Reading Brahms is usually challenging, with the mask and all. His eyes, for the second they met with yours, told you he was remorseful. Your hand found its way to his, gingerly winding his limp fingers together with your own shuddering digits. With a final sniffle you rose, tugging softly at his hand for him to stand with you. “Bed time.” You flashed an empathetic smile once he shakily stood, but he only turned his head to the mess by your feet.

“I’ll come clean it up once you’re tucked in. You don’t have to sleep in the room tonight.” You came to refer to your quarters as ‘the room’, ever since Brahms began sleeping there with you. You reminisce for a moment about the sweet memories of being swaddled together through stormy nights, ones that seem so distant from the present, when Brahms removed his hand from your hold and kneeled down. You thought yet again he was being difficult, but rather he was picking up pieces of sharp ceramic that surrounded you. “No, it’s alright love, I’ll clean it up. We need to get you to sleep, it’s been a long day.”

“I want to help.”

You peered down at him with a sort of bemused pity as he craned his head up, holding a handful of the thick sharp glass. He sat awaiting your verdict, surveying your form as you slowly crouched down beside him, a soft simper shined across your puffy, wet- yet lovely face. You plucked the last remains of the teacup off the floor before carefully tipping the pile from Brahms’s hands into yours. 

Brahms cupped the back of your hands with a soft hold, leading you to the trash bin and dumping the shattered teacup in it together. His hands then tenderly wrapped over yours, dusting any residual trace of the shards away and lacing them back together again.

“Bed time?” Brahms inquired with soft overture. You grinned and gave him a sleepy nod.

“Do you still want a goodnight kiss?” You gazed at him questioningly as the two of you walked hand in hand to the room. Brahms was eager to respond with relieved gratitude.

“Yes please.”