#I can't imagine being in that situation with the wet and the steam and being pelted with water and trying to get clean

[smarterthantheaverageloser]

Every time I watch a piece of media with implied shower sex it makes me cringe so hard. Are you not overstimulated? Steam in there

[gracev0609]

Seriously, You Look Really Good Like That...

Josh X Danny X Y/N (Lovie)

The one where the iced chai crew plays with their body modifications.

WC: 1.9K+

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Minors DNI, This is Just Smut, Barely a Plot 🤣, Polyamorous Relationship, Explicit Sex, Josh is a Little Submissive,Pierced Nipple Play, Brief Erotic Lactation, Lots of Oral, Petnames.

*Also I think I'm going to transition from referring to reader as Y/N to Lovie as that's who I refer to her as when I put them in situations.

Josh stepped out of the shower, steam billowing off of his body. He grabbed his towel, drying off his body being mindful of the piercings on his chest. He peered at his torso in the mirror above the sink. His hair was still dripping, rivulets of water following the contours of his collarbone sliding down the reddened center of his chest, streaming down his tummy. He reached forward grabbing the bottle of saline spray, uncapping it before spraying some on either nipple. The cold spray shocked his skin causing his now oversensitive nubs to pucker at the temperature difference. A slight shiver of arousal courses through his veins as he puts the spray back and roots through the cabinet for his haircare. He grabs his towel one last time, wanting to squeeze as much water out of his hair as he can. As he gently scrunches the wetness from his curls, the satin edge of his towel brushes across his chest catching his nipple. Immediately pleasure radiated through his body, and blood rushed towards his groin. His cock twitching as he swells slightly.

That felt good. He thought as he brought his fingers to his newly healed piercing. Softly he swirls the pads of his pointer and middle finger across his nipple. Hardened and aching, pointing out, puckering over the silver barbells. Sparks of pleasure radiated from his chest as he gently rubs, it felt different this time. Better than it ever had, he had heard about the increased sensitivity but experiencing it was something else. After a few swirls of his fingers he was fully hard, without a single touch to his cock. Gently he pinches it in between his thumb and pointer finger and his breath hitches. His cock throbbed, begging for stimulation. Whimpering quietly he let his hands trail down his body, one hand cupping his warm balls still damp from his shower. The other wraps around his engorged shaft giving it a light squeeze. He wants to grip himself and fuck his hand until he releases but he knows his loves are on the couch finishing their movie and he'd much rather lose himself in them.

Reluctantly he removes his hands from his body, turning back to the vanity busying his mind on his skincare routine.

As he applies his moisturizer a light knock comes from the door before his love cracks open the door,” Hey baby, how was your shower? Dan and I are coming to b- you're hard?”

He smiles as he rubs the product into his skin watching her slink into the room. Padding her way towards him, he can't help but think how beautiful she looks in her big sleep shirt and her hair in a ponytail messy flyaways draping around her face. She places her manicured hands on his hips, her eyes locked on him standing straight out from between his legs.

“Are you feeling needy Josh?” Her thumbs rubbing back and forth.

“Yeah… I found out how sensitive my chest is now.”

“Is it?” She steps forward, the tip of his cock nestling where her thighs touched. Her covered core radiating heat over his sensitive skin. She leans forward, her plush pink lips wrapping around his nipple.

“Fuck!” He whines, his hips subconsciously pushing, his head pushing into her covered clit.

Gently she sucks, her tongue swirling around the metal bar. Josh tilts his head back groaning,his hips rutting into hers” God, I could cum like this. Yeah baby, keep sucking.”

Giggling, she disconnects,” Lets go to the bedroom, I'm sure Danny would be willing to help me suck on you.”

His jaw clenching imagining one of his loves on his chest and the other on his cock. He follows her into their bedroom, and his eyes fall on Danny. Wrapped up in the covers, his bedside lamp already glowing and his latest read already open in his lap.

When he hears him enter his eyes flick to his naked lover, closing his book he smirks and beckons him to climb into bed next to him. Immediately Josh climbs in, snuggling into Danny's side.

She follows suit, pressing her body against Josh's,” He needs us Danny. Do you want to help me spoil him?” She asks, wrapping her hand around his thick shaft. Instantly he pulses, a bead of precum already forming at his slit. Danny's fingers swirled across his head, rubbing back and forth across his wet slit,” Leaking already? You're such a messy baby.” His fingers pulling away letting the stretch of his fluid connect his cock with Danny's fingers.

Lovie leans down, her tongue flicking across Josh's nipple, before sucking it into her mouth.

Josh cries out, the stimulation simultaneously too much and not enough. She squeezes him, making him throb, dripping more of his slick down his shaft coating their fingers. Her tongue lapping at his chest makes him throb continuously, groaning he pleads,” Dannnny… please, please suck on me, it feels so good already.”

Ducking down he takes him into his mouth. The warm wetness making his hips jolt, and Danny pins them to the bed with his hands as his head bobs down. Sucking all the arousal off of his skin, he moans around him.

“God I'm not gonna be able to last tonight, it feels incredible.”

Danny's tongue swirls against his heated skin, loving against the prominent vein on the underside of his cock.

Josh pants looking down at his beautiful girl lavishing his chest,” Baby… you should put your piercings back in. Fuck.. you'd look so hot.” His hands weave into each of their hair, gently he guides Danny's head up and down along his length.

His head lulls back over to her,” Would you let me drink with them in?”

Danny takes him down completely, his nose nuzzling into the patch of hair at his base.

“Fuck Danny!”

Shuddering a breath his orgasm overtakes him, his hot milky white ropes spurting down Danny's throat as he drinks him down. Taking a few deep breaths he tries to calm himself as Danny gently suckles the remaining drops from his tip.

She lifts up to her knees, pulling her shirt up off of her head, her breasts sway heavy on her chest with her nipples pebbled and hard,” Your turn Dan.”

Immediately Josh flips over, pushing Danny back to lay on the bed and his mouth immediately latching onto his pierced nipples.” Shit, that feels so good. Oh! They're so sensitive!” Shortly after she climbs in between his legs, Danny coos, feeling drunk on Josh already,” Can you titty fuck me Lovie? Wanna feel it.”

She gives his red swollen tip a kiss before repositioning herself, slotting his length between her tits. Her hands squeeze her chest around him, gently moving it up and down as she leans in her tongue flicking against his slit. Danny moans, losing himself in the feeling of their mouths. He pulls on Josh's curls lifting his head,” You and that damn oral fixation. You just need to have a cock or a tit in that pretty mouth of yours. Isn't that right baby boy?”

He watches Josh's eyes darken as the new nickname graces his ear, his body melting against Danny's.

Danny's focus is shifted as he feels warmth against his groin. His eyes follow the drip from her nipple, falling down into his dark curly pubic hair.

Josh whimpers, fuck, as he watches her leak. Danny cups his chin, bringing his attention back,” Clean up her mess and help her suck me off.”

Quickly Josh dives down, his hot tongue lapping at the mess she made on him. Dragging his tongue from his base to his tip, tangling it with hers, kissing her messily.

Danny tugs on his hair, pulling him down to suck on his pulsating cock. They both alternate sucking on his tip and tonguing his length, making his head fall back into the pillows overcome with pleasure. Danny felt his orgasm swirling in his lower stomach, but he needed that final push. He brings his hands to his chest, his fingers finding his nipples tweaking them. The jolts of pleasure bring him to his peak as he cums. Pitchy moans of pleasure slip from his lips as they greedily lap at his slit tongues working together as they coax him to completion, savoring him. He whines as he watches Josh lick the cum that had splattered on her cheek and chin, cleaning her up.

Once again she rises to her knees, slipping her hand into her drenched panties as she swirls her fingers across her swollen clit,”My turn?”

Josh whines, neediness evident in his tone,” Please. Let us eat you out.”

An idea sparks in Danny's head and he peels her underwear from her body and gets them situated in the position he wants. Josh lays flat on his back, with her bent over on all fours over his face leaving her backside exposed to Danny.

“Go ahead baby boy, suck on her pretty clit.”

Josh groans as the pet name leaves his lips. She moans as Josh connects his mouth to her cunt as Danny dips down his tongue flicking against her back entrance.

“Ohhh!”

They lick and suck at her sensitive skin until her legs are shaking. Her face rests against the mattress, moans flowing freely from her mouth as her ears are assaulted by obscene licking and sucking sounds. Danny slips his fingers into her drenched hole, he feels her fluttering around him as he presses on her squishy sensitive insides. Babying her g spot he continues lapping at her tight entrance. He can hear them both moaning as she starts to fall apart. His fingers keep their steady rhythmic pace as she squeezes and gushes around them.

Praise growls from both men's chests, encouraging her through her orgasm as it pours off of Danny's forearm pooling on Josh's belly.

When she finally comes back down Josh smiles against her skin placing gentle kisses against her still puffy clit.

“Good girl…”

He slides out from under her and she flops down on the bed. Both Josh and Danny snuggle into her, praising her for being so good to them.

She mumbles, her cheek pressed into her pillow,” I love you both so much.”

Josh places soft kisses against her back, trailing his nose against her soft skin, as Danny kneads the thick muscle of her ass in his palm,” We love you, so much.”

Josh continues to pepper her skin in sweet kisses, and Danny smirks,” You really liked that little nickname huh?”

A blush covers Josh's cheeks,” I did. You can keep calling me that, if you want.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

Flipping onto her back she pulls her boys into her, wanting the skin to skin contact. Both of them nuzzle into the soft skin stretched across her collarbones, leaving light kisses there. Josh nuzzles down further, her nipple brushing against his cheek.

“Would you put your piercings back in? We could all match, how cute!” He giggles playfully, eliciting a chuckle from her and Danny. She cups his face in her hands, his hair deflated, tiredness under his eyes,” Maybe I will, just for you. Since you want it so badly.” She teases.

He preens, giving her nipple a soft kiss before getting comfortable on his pillow next to her. She rubs both of their heads, as sleepiness sets in. Gently scratching at their scalps until soft snores were heard before giving into the night herself.

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 11 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: what does it mean for your world to be torn apart?

words: 7.7k

chapter warning: graphic descriptions of sex, violence and gore. smutty fantasies (p in v, oral-f and m receiving, dubcon), nude photos, catfishing, revenge p*rn, coercion and manipulation of a minor, references to cancer treatment

series warnings: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. sexual situations. spousal abuse. family trauma. drug use. coersion. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Please don't date a mob boss.

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you can't name the Mambo #5 women then gtfo.

a/n - Originally this chapter and the next were intended to be one part, but the word count was far too long. I encourage you to read them together! Read this one first! Also, it might be fun to listen to the official Sugar and Vice playlist on Spotify for the next two chapters.

Back to Part 10.

Part 11

What does it mean to be pulled apart?

Peter knew. He was experiencing it first-hand.

It was glorious.

Heaven was the only thing he could think of, and he wasn’t even sure he believed such a place existed. But if it did, it would be here—in between the thighs of the woman he’d die for. 

She looked so delicate beneath him. So tiny against the black ocean of silk sheets in his bed. Her arms were outstretched, a black-leather cuff binding each wrist. Her legs were also spread wide. The sight was breathtakingly lewd—body trembling, goosefleshed, inner thighs dripping wet. He loved the way her hips squirmed beneath his hands. It made it even more fun to hold her down. 

It was almost vulgar, a shameless, pornographic display. But she was an angel, after all. How could anything be vulgar about an angel? How could anything be shameful in Heaven? How could something so sweet be a sin?

Honey. He remembered how his mind used to wander into dark territory. It was somewhat embarrassing, how often it would happen. He’d be standing in line at the coffee shop watching her work, or watching her whip up a batch of cake batter in his kitchen. Suddenly, the thought would attack his mind: like being struck by lightning. He would wonder if she tasted as sweet as she was, while silently observing her with a crooked half-smile on his face, cock half-hard in his pants.

She tasted better than he ever could’ve imagined. Uniquely sweet and still somehow floral, like honey and lavender. Honeysuckle. No wonder birds and bees couldn’t get enough of the stuff. Hummingbird wings beat beneath his chest as his tongue lapped at her petals, devouring the nectar he’d find. 

He was addicted to it. Whimpering for it. Jesus, he was a goner.

He’d never stop. He wanted to stay in Heaven forever. Just him desperately consuming her with mewling pathetic noises as he ground his crotch helplessly against the bedsheets. He wanted to stay there and weave his tongue through her folds—fuck, he was gonna come just from eating her out, blow his load in his pants like a fuckin’ teenager—until she begged him to stop. Until he’d pulled every last beautiful noise from her.

She was crying from pleasure. Screaming from it. He knew it. He was splitting her in half, as much she tore him apart. He was in pieces. Fragments. His love, and pain, and soul all spilling out for her. 

Only for her.

The water was warm. The steam filled his lungs. Heat settled in his chest and burned like fire. His hands were buried in her sopping wet hair. She was wrapped around his fingers. Wrapped around his cock. Her face was pressed against the shower wall as he gazed hungrily down at the place where he was impaling her. Every thrust of his hips was a dizzying jolt of electricity. 

He was obsessed with the view, watching his cock slip in and out of her folds. Fuck she’s so tight. It hurt. There’s nothing wrong with a little pain, though. Nothing wrong with a little blood.

Her mouth felt so tight. Watching his cock slip in and out of her lips. Her throat closed around his length. He gazed down at those hypnotic, sparkling, watery eyes. Fuck he could see his head going down her throat. She was so good to him. So good. 

Perfect angel. So good on her knees for him. Sucking him so well, the berber carpet of her closet rubbing burns there, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Such a tough girl. 

Such a pretty girl. Wearing that beautiful little lavender dress he bought for her. He knew she’d like it. He knew it’d look perfect on her—goddamn potato sack’d look sexy on her—the second he saw it in the store, he knew. Babydoll. It suits her so well. Like it was made for her. 

Like her mouth was made for him. He gripped her chin tighter. Her pussy was made for him. He began to thrust into her throat, couldn’t help himself. Her whole body was made for him. 

Lace and silk flowing down it. His cum would be flowing soon enough. Dripping all over, coating her face and tits and tongue. Looking up at him with those beautiful eyes as she held her mouth open for him like a good girl, tongue stuck out greedily, savoring every last drop. Nothing wrong with being greedy sometimes. His good girl. 

His cum streaming down her face. 

Her tears streaming down her face. 

His tears streaming down her face.

He snapped his hips faster, fucking her into his creaky, old twin mattress. The lumpy one he slept on every night since he was 5. He’d proactively shoved old t-shirts in the cracks between the bed and the wall to muffle any potential pounding. 

He was pretty sure that May and Ben might have suspected he was foolin’ around and stuff, but ever since the Sex Talk Debacle of 2008, he would prefer a wrap it up, stop means stop, and never to have that conversation again.

“Peter... oh god, feelss s’good...” he heard a breathless whisper that shot straight to his cock. 

He looked down to see the most gorgeous green eyes in the entire world staring up at him. Blissed out. Euphoric. Corn silk hair spread out on his pillow like a halo around her head. Fair skin, apple-cheeks, kissable freckles, and peony-pink lips. An angel.

Heaven. He was in Heaven. The sight of her made him want to fall down and worship. Made him want to cry. Bury his head against her belly and sob and scream and have her pet him and run her fingers through his hair and rock him and cradle him and promise that she’d never leave him again.

It had been so long. “Gwen...” he panted, a groan bubbling up in his chest. “God, Gwen, I’ve missed you... s-so fuckin’ much—”

“I love you,” she gasped a hushed reply, nearing her climax. Like whispering a secret. So quiet, so the other angels couldn’t hear. “I-I love you, Peter—I love you always...”

He was being torn apart. He wanted to die, the way she tightened around him.

“Fuck, fuck, Peter, don’t stop!”

He opened his eyes. Honey was beneath him again, in his childhood bedroom. There was blood everywhere in the sheets. Streaming down her face. Coating her breasts. Covering her arms. Covering his hands. 

“Peter, please, don’t stop,” she whined, and who was he to deny her. She was a goddess and this was her kingdom. 

Perfect girl. Such a good girl. 

“I’ve been so good for you, been so, so good—”

don’t stop.

Stop, just stop—

—don’t fucking stop—

—Peter, snap out of it, stop!

“Pete, wake up!” 

His eyes popped open just as he felt himself falling over the edge. The sensation was terrifying. Like plummeting in a dream. Disorienting. 

Light pierced his eyes like flaming swords. The hum of neon rang in his ears like a jet engine. He tasted bile on his tongue, but his mouth was drier than a desert. Throat was sore. Great, is this the flu? How long has it been since he was sick? Gross taste in his mouth. Awful metallic scent in his nose.

His muscles locked in place. Brain short-circuiting. 

Blood. He smelled blood.

“Pete, can you hear me? Are you still crazy?” Eddie’s voice punctured his eardrums, and Peter reached up to cover his ears protectively. Lashes fluttered, dark eyes roving around. The picture came into focus.

He was in a room. A dark room. No windows. With ugly carpet and ugly modern furniture that reeked of cigars, cigarettes and old vodka. 

It was a small lounge of some kind. Through the walls he could hear bells and laughter and shrill screams of excitement. 

Broken glass littered the patterned floor, multiple recognizable fragments that were once full bottles of Belluga, Russo-Baltique, Chopin, and good old-fashioned Belvedere. 

He was on his back. Looking up at Eddie Brock, who looked even more worse-for-wear than he normally did. “Talk to me, buddy,” he anxiously muttered, leaning over his boss. 

Also, this was not the person he expected to see after... whatever that was.

His throat was too sore to respond in words. Instead he groaned, rolling over on his side. Hissing in pain that radiated in his chest and ribs and hands. His hands were bloody.

He swallowed hard. Heart pounding. “Honey...” he whispered, worry and confusion taking over.

“She’s safe,” Eddie replied, and it only sort of gave him some relief. 

He twisted around, assessing the room. The furniture had been turned over. It looked like a tornado shredded the space. Attempting to get up was difficult, especially as Peter tried to conceal the rapidly weakening hard-on in his trousers. 

“What about you, how’re you feelin’?” Eddie’s voice chimed in again, voice softer. “What do you see? What do you remember?”

He didn’t want to talk about what he remembered, worried that the bulge in his pants had already given him away. Peter squeezed his eyes closed, the orbs feeling like sandstones lodged into his skull. He groaned, “Uhhh... shit... I... uh...”

He remembered... 

His time in Heaven. The closet. The bedsheets. Honey. Gwen.

No, none of that’s real. None of that happened.

—you’ll never see them again—

Focus, Parker.

—youre a monster and monsters never get to heaven no such thing—

“Pete,” Eddie repeated, this time more firmly. “You with me?” 

Peter looked up at the other man, reading his 5 o’clock shadow. Gazed at the concern in his hazel-gray eyes, the old scar cutting over his left brow, and the dark, puffy bags beneath. He really hadn’t slept in days. What the hell happened?

White hair. Long white hair. Smelled like bergamot, and cedar, and tobacco.

Silver. On her eye lids. Around her neck. Chrome-like. Two tiny patches of shiny silver fabric just barely covering massive, fake tits.

Peter swallowed hard, heart pounding. “I...” 

Silver thong, garter belt and thigh harnesses to match. She looked like a disco ball. Turning, twirling... gliding around a silver pole. Silver eyes, or maybe that’s just the way they looked when she looked at him. Gazing at him seductively. All over him.

Silver tongue. 

He tasted bile coming up his throat. “I... don’t...” Brought the back of his hand up to his mouth to keep it down.

What had he done? What the fuck—?

He looked down at himself in confusion. His black shirt was torn open. Dark pants ripped, shredded in some places. There was a giant black hole in the middle of his memory. 

He was home. In his home, in a meeting, in the parlor— He broke the piano—

“That was almost 3 days ago, man,” Eddie chimed in. Peter stared up at him, gobsmacked. Stunned. Confused. Worry set in Eddie’s eyes, the corners of his mouth downturned. “You’re in Vegas.”

Horror. Filling his eyes, his chest. Shock. Heaving. His throat was tightening up because of it. “Wha...?” Peter murmured in disbelief. “Wh-what...?” 

Like a spooked cat, he clamored to his feet, the whole world tilting as he came to an abrupt stand. 

Blinking rapidly, trying to see into the dark spot in his mind. Black holes consume everything. All light swallowed up. His belt was unbuckled. The fly still fastened tight. His shirt was torn and bloody. Blood all over.

“I...” Peter thought he was going to be sick. He thought he’d scream. “What did I—?” His gaze traveled over the room as he stumbled backward. That’s when he caught a glimpse of it. 

Red hair.

He was trembling. Creeping towards a toppled-over chaise lounge, staring unblinkingly down at the horrible pattern of the carpet. The stains on it. Blood.

Long, white waves of hair, spread out like a halo, stained red with blood. Not his blood. 

Hers. The silver woman who was flirting with him. Bugging him. Teasing him. Shamelessly trying to seduce him. Sat in his lap and poured vodka down his throat and filthy promises in his ear, before dragging him ‘somewhere private.’

“Oh, god,” Peter gagged. Her broken body was spread out in front of them, her blood painting the floor and walls. 

The silver woman’s body was torn apart. Ripped open. Separated. Two halves.

Peter’s legs gave out, dropping to a knee, tears streaming down his cheeks. “God, what did I do?” he breathlessly gasped. There was so much blood. Her skin wasn’t even visible. 

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t lose it!” Eddie babbled, jumping into view. His form obscured the body as he took Peter by the face. His skin was ice cold. “It’s not what it looks like, alright? Don’t— don’t you fuckin’ throw up! Don’t throw up, that’s your DNA!”

As if he cared about going to jail at this point. Peter was already dead inside. Maybe he needed jail. Supermax. Maybe he needed the electric chair. 

“Eddie...” he shivered, voice trembling, “what-what’d... I-I don’t remem—” 

“She was an assassin,” Eddie explained, gripping him by his shoulders. Peter’s glazed over expression swam with confusion. Drowned in it. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, annoyed by the awkwardness of the situation. “C’mon, man,” he grimaced. “You really thought ‘Silver Sable’ was her name?” 

Peter blinked, eyes bugged out. Eddie let out a straight-faced groan, shocked by his boss’ naivety. “Silvija Sablinova was her real name,” he added. “A finalist on the Kremlin’s Got Talent, and guess what her talent was? Cuttin’ throats, man. She’s the leader of the baddest hit squad money can buy. And you were on her list.”

Peter’s skin was stone cold. Shaking his head in disbelief, his brows pinched together in shock. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, “I saw the whole thing go down on the security camera footage. Sorry, buddy, she wasn’t that into you.” 

Peter’s face flushed red, and he looked away. 

“Looks like Kingpin wanted to send you a message.” Eddie looked over at the body, grimness returning to his tone. “Message received, I guess.”

Peter shoved him back angrily, breaking his grip. The dryness in his eyes was only now being counteracted by tears threatening to spill. They burned like acid. “You think that matters to me? I killed her! I did... that.”

“In self-defense,” Eddie argued, then pointed at Peter’s chest. “Not before she got a few good licks in.”

He followed the end of his finger to his chest. Looking down beneath his shirt, he could see bloody gashes oozing beneath the fabric.

Eddie chuckled at the sight in disbelief, “Dude. She stabbed you with a sword—”

“You think this is fuckin’ funny?” Peter snapped, eyes burning hot. “Do you have any idea....?”  The air left his lungs before he could finish the sentence. He felt hollow. Numb.

Eddie wasn’t smiling anymore. He glared right back. “Yeah, Pete,” he said with clipped words. “I do.”

They were deadlocked in heated silence. Finally, Peter stepped backward. Body weary, as it always was after a blitz like that. But this time, it was different. It was worse. 

Squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears. He gripped his hair, letting out a frustrated cry that sounded more like a growl. The agonized groan of a dying animal.

“I got rid of the camera footage, but we gotta get out of here,” Eddie mentioned, anxiously eying the door. “Get back home before anyone else sees you.”

“I-I don’t...” Peter wiped his mouth, unable to keep that smell at bay. Now he could taste the metal on his tongue. 

“Look, this was not random, okay?” Eddie countered. “How did Kingpin know where you were? None of the rest of us did! We’ve been lookin’ all over the East Coast for you. This isn’t circumstance, this is strategy. He went after you for a reason.”

Peter’s eyes were fixed on the floor, tears blurring his vision. “The woman, I-I didn’t...” he sniffed, his voice trembling. He gnawed on his lip to prevent the wobble. “I didn’t want to... I would never do—” 

He was unable to speak further. Unable to breathe. 

Assassin or no, the images from whatever ‘hallucination’ Peter had been having, juxtaposed with the violent scene he ‘awakened’ to, made him sick with self-loathing. It was like throwing a bucket of ice water on him. A bucket of flaming napalm. 

Guilt churned in his stomach. He was ashamed. Mortified at himself. When he squeezed his eyelids closed, all he could see behind them were Honey’s eyes. The look of betrayal on her face. He didn’t even remember how he got there. He didn’t remember anything.

A blackout. 

“You weren’t you,” Eddie said, his tone endearing. “Not really.”

When Peter looked back up, tears running down the bridge of his nose and cheeks, he realized he was looking at a friend. Maybe his only friend. The only one that saw him for what he truly was, and didn’t run away in terror.

Maybe he should, though. Peter certainly scared the shit out of himself.

This was an awful idea, Honey thought, standing outside of the ajar door to Peter’s office. She was half convinced that it would never work— it was impossible, given the enhanced security. She told him. Begged him.

Her puppet master didn’t care. Assured her, via text, that when she got to the door, it would be open. The cameras wouldn’t see her, they’d see a loop instead. 

She had no idea how John was able to pull that off, but he was capable of anything.

He reminded her of that with a series of photos. This time, they were screenshots of an Instagram chat. The tiny profile pic was undeniably Gabriella. The conversation was intimate. Flirty. Then a little inappropriate. Then straight-up graphic. 

She’d sent pictures—christ, what are you doing, Gabby, you never send pictures!—the kind that would make a young girl want to die of embarrassment. 

Or just die. 

And John fucking Walker had them.

It infuriated her. Honey cried for three hours out of sheer rage. It was so wrong—so fucking wrong, that motherfucker, how did he get into her phone? how was he even allowed to have pictures like that? they’re illegal! 

And the more she read over the screenshots, the more she paid attention to spelling and punctuation. The more she began to suspect that John had always been the only recipient of those photos. A catfish caught.

Over her dead fucking body, she thought. She’d die before she’d let him touch her.

And standing in Peter’s office, snooping quietly through his files, that was likely going to be the outcome.

If the threat of harming her sister wasn’t enough, there was a separate gnawing fear inside of her. It had been three days since she’d seen Peter.

After that night, he took off without a word to her or anyone else. She waited for him. After what she saw him do to his guard, she was scared out of her mind, but she waited anyway. He didn’t come home that night. Or the following day. 

And when she asked questions, nobody would give her a straight answer. And the following day, everyone vanished. She was practically alone in the penthouse, except for the 12 other faceless guards who didn’t dare speak to her. Apparently, it was a death warrant.

Now it was Day 3, and she felt like giant bats were flailing in her belly. Where could he have gone? And why did he not at least call her and tell her where he was, or if he was alright? She still didn’t have her own phone (officially) but there could’ve been some form of communication. 

Was she being naive to think that they had that kind of relationship? She wasn’t allowed to do anything without him knowing about it, but he could disappear for days and not tell her anything? How was that fair?

What if he was with someone? Someone else?

She stowed that sharp pang away, not wanting to dwell on it. She was not jealous. She was safer with him gone. He was a monster. She was not jealous.

She was stupid. This was dumb. She had no idea what John was even looking for, but his desk and the drawers showed nothing to indicate where Peter had gone. She sighed, anxiety filling her chest, worried that she wouldn’t have anything to offer him that would satiate his hunger for cruelty.

She stopped at one of the shelves in the built-in bookcase. There, on top of a book, was an item that she’d never noticed before: a metal rangefinder camera, silver with a bumpy black grip and amber-coated lens. 

She didn’t know anything about cameras, but it felt heavy in her hands. She thought it was probably heavier than cameras should be. It looked old. She tested the weight, carefully turning the device over in her hands, inspecting details. 

On the front of the camera, in the top right corner, there was a little badge with an embossed atom symbol. The front also had letters ‘GSN’ and the word ‘GYashica.’ She’d never heard of that brand before—wait, was that GYashica or just the letter G and the word Yashica? Maybe it wasn’t a G. It wasn’t a G. Probably.

The top of the camera had words that were easier to read: Electro 35. A Yashica Electro 35. Old. Vintage. Kinda beat-up. The inside of the camera had a label on it too, from an embossed office label printer: PROPERTY OF PETER PARKER.

It made her smile. Her eyes glanced up at the book the camera had been sitting on, and that’s when she noticed it wasn’t a book at all. It was a box that looked like a book, like the kind that her mom used to use to hide all of their money.

Curiously, she set the camera down on a lower shelf and reached up to retrieve the box. 

Inside: Photos. Real, physical, color photos printed on old photo paper, not like the kind that some people can print off with a printer at home. She remembered having one of those wind-up film cameras once, but those pictures never looked as good as these.

Candids, all of them. Taken with a skilled eye.

A woman, middle-aged, with a wide smile. In mid-conversation, it would seem, with bright eyes despite how sullen they looked. She was sitting up in a chair, an infusion pump beside her. A yellow, daisy floral bandana was wrapped around her head. Her hair was not visible.

The back of the photo had a date. May 2006. Her brows went up as she flipped the photo back around, taking a closer look at the woman. Not May 2006.

May. 2006.

Her lips parted, not realizing she was going to come face-to-face with the May Reilly. May Parker. Peter’s Aunt May. The woman that became his surrogate mother. The ‘fighter’ that defeated cancer. The only mother he really knew, lost in a rain of gunfire. 

Next photo.

An older man, white hair matted down, his upper half drenched. He was sitting in a tight space on a kitchen floor, in front of a sink cabinet that was wide open. In his hand was a pipe. In the other was a rag he was using to dab at his face. Also visible: May, looking a bit older than in the last photo, doubled over, tears in her eyes. Both of them laughing their asses off.

The back of the photo read ‘You should’ve just called a plumber, Ben. 2011’

A chuckle escaped her lips as she put the scene together. She could imagine May’s voice repeating the phrase, and somehow could imagine the man pictured in the photo stubbornly holding out. A warm smile stretched her lips. 

They were so happy. Once upon a time.

Next photo. She gasped.

The woman’s eyes were so green. The brightest green eyes she’d ever seen. She was beautiful. Cornsilk hair framed the apples of her cheeks. It was a closeup, somewhere outdoors. Somewhere cold. A thick-knit beanie was pulled over her ears, and the tip of her nose was bright red. 

Gwen. That was the only word on the back of the photo. 

Honey turned the photo back around, now with her jaw agape. Her brows were furrowed. Gwen. The girl of Peter’s dreams. Beneath that photo, there was a strip of photos in sequence, like the kind taken in a photo booth.

Gwen and Peter. Smiling. Silly. Kissing. Sweet. 

How could something so sweet make her heart ache? He was happy. Once upon a time. 

She pursed her lips together. 

This was stupid. She was stupid. Why was she being stupid?

She turned the strip over to find another handwritten phrase: Do I have to lose you too????

The pang in her chest remained, but this time it was for Peter. And for herself.

With a heavy sigh, she put the photos back in the box. When her fingertips touched the bottom, it moved. She blinked, confused. The bottom of the box was fake.

Tilting her head to the side, she worked her fingernails under the edge of the bottom insert. She pried it up, revealing more photos hidden underneath.

Her eyes went wide, her breath stuck in her throat. Horror.

Gwen again. But these... were different. She was naked. Different poses. Limbs laid out in scandalous ways. 

Honey blushed, pulling her eyes away. Her face warmed and her heart began to race. 

This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. She shouldn’t be looking at this. 

She glanced back at the provocative photos. By the look on Gwen’s face, she was a willing subject. Each picture was taken with a singular intention. Each one, a small taste. Hands gripping her breasts. Another with her ass raised in the air. Looking directly at the lens with a finger hooked between her lips, the other hand slipped between her spread legs. Another closeup of her exposed nipples and her sultry smile, semen covering both. Provocative. Passionate. Pornographic. 

This was wrong. 

She imagined Peter taking these photos. Imagined him directing her, manipulating her body in whatever way he wanted. A doll for him to play with. 

Sweat beaded on her neck. Why was it so hot in that room? Why did her face feel so hot?

Hands shaking, she shoved the photos back into the box. Snapped the lid shut, returning it to its position on the bookshelf. 

Her whole body was trembling. She was aching. 

What was wrong with her? Why did she have the disgusting urge to shove her hand in her pants and just—

“Can I help you find something?” Peter said from behind her. She gasped, spinning suddenly, her hand knocking into the camera. The heavy metal object slid off the shelf and plummeted to the floor. She watched the device falling with horror.

Until it was caught. Peter was suddenly there. Like he’d teleported in the blink of an eye. His wide fingers closed around the camera. He’d saved it, just inches off the ground, before it was destroyed.

She was instantly relieved, then immediately doused in an ice bath. Her whole body went stiff, like she’d electrocuted herself. She was stunned, motionless. His dark eyes landed on hers. Peering up at her, inquisitively from his leaned-over position. Slowly, he straightened out, full control over every muscle. He loomed over her, looking down at her horrified gaze.

“I—” she gasped, babbling. Struggling. “I-I...”

“That was close, wasn’t it?” Peter murmured, studying her too intently. 

She looked down at the camera in his hand, and looked back up at him. A subconscious step backward reminded her that her back was flat against the bookcase. She felt trapped again. Cornered. Her eyes were saucers, staring down the barrel of his gaze. 

“Thank god, you caught it!” she laughed nervously. Her heart was pounding. She swallowed hard, grinning wide. “Nice reflexes.”

Peter watched her carefully, scrutiny playing in his eyes. The bat in her stomach had grown to a full-sized pterodactyl. 

Honey cleared her throat. “Sorry, I... I shouldn’t have been playing with the camera. I was just, um, curious, I guess. I-I don’t even know how to use one.” She wrung her hands idly, digging her thumbnail into her palm. “It looks old.” She said it with a lilt at the end. Turning the statement into a question. 

He glanced back down at the camera. “Uh... yeah... It is.” He looked back up at her, the tension falling from his face. “It’s, um... Yeah, I got it at a garage sale a while ago.” He pursed his lips, somewhat shy. “Good little camera.”

She rocked on her toes, the smile beginning to hurt. “Does it still work?”

He met her eyes, molasses flowing once again. “Yeah. It-it does.”

Honey nodded, trying to cover up the awkwardness, like smoothing out wrinkles in a bedsheet. “You shoot people, huh?”

He raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Your shirt,” she answered, thinking back to the first night she spent in the penthouse. “The one I borrowed that first night?” His face softened as soon as he recalled what she was talking about. “‘I shoot people.’ I get it now.” She giggled. “It’s funny.” 

He watched her smile, and listened to her laugh, and looked away. Unable to hide the reddening of his ears. The flush in his cheeks.

“Um,” Honey carefully began, observing his reaction carefully. “Maybe... maybe one day you can show me how it works? Teach me a little bit about photography?” His eyes darted up to meet hers, flustered and wide. 

Lips pursed, he stared at her in a daze, taking forever to respond. He nodded. Silently. Then, “Y-Yeah, I, uh... maybe.”

He reached over her head and put the camera back on the shelf, on top of the closed ‘book’ where it had been sitting. She bit her lip, avoiding his gaze, stepping out from underneath him. She fought the urge to run out the door. 

“What are you doing in here?” Peter asked, turning towards her. 

She turned around to face him, taking the sight of him in. He looked tired. His hair was messier than she was used to. Floofy. Like he didn’t use any hair product, which for him, was strange. 

He wasn’t dressed like he normally was—just a black, short-sleeve collared shirt with a couple of buttons loose at the top. Skinny black jeans. She wasn’t used to seeing him without at least four articles of clothing. It was odd. Unnerving.

“I was looking for you,” she answered, her brows knit together. It was technically the truth. “Are you okay? You-you look...awful.”

He raised a brow. “Thanks—?”

“No, no, no,” she shook her head. “I just meant...that...” 

Her eyes darted to the corners of his face anxiously. She spotted a small knick on his forehead. An almost-healed wound that looked old, but one she had never noticed before. Her brow curled at the sight. Her hand came up of its own accord, and before she knew it, her fingers were gently brushing the healing skin near the wound. 

Her gaze was warm. Sincere. Genuine concern.

When her fingers touched his flesh, he froze. Jaw clamped tight. Lashes fluttered closed. 

Against his judgment, against everything he believed about what he deserved, he leaned into her touch. Heat built up behind his eyelids, his eyes beginning to sting from the mounting wave. A shiver traveled down his spine. 

Just one gentle touch, and the entire world went away. He felt her hand go still. Or maybe time had stopped. He was afraid to open his eyes back up. Afraid that he was stuck in another dream. Her heart was pounding. So was his. 

When he finally peeled his eyes open, she was staring at him with a look of confusion. Worried, but not in a bad way. Stunned, but not scared. She narrowed her gaze, studying his eyes, and it made him want to hide. Like she could see through him. See into his soul. 

She swallowed dryly, pulling her hand back slowly. His heart clenched, and ached, and wailed, and longed for the warmth of her skin as soon as it was gone.

She fixed her gaze on him, chewing her bottom lip. “We were worried about you,” she said. “I was worried about you.” Seeing through him. Those eyes. 

—youre a monster and monsters never get to heaven—

Peter gulped down whatever tears were threatening to fall, stopping them. Hardened his gaze. Inhaled sharply. Winced at the feeling of broken shards of glass near his heart. “I’m, uh... sorry about that,” he nodded, avoiding her gaze. “I... I just needed some space.”

She recoiled slightly. “From me?”

His eyes grew wide with alarm, “No. No, no... no, not from you. That’s not what I— No, never, I just—” 

The words dropped off. He closed his mouth, flexed his jaw. “Um...” That sting came back to his eyes, betraying him. “Sorry.” His gaze dropped to the floor as he said it. 

The stench of blood lingered. Couldn’t get it out of his airways.

She shifted her weight between her toes, scratching the back of her neck. “It’s... um... it’s okay. I’m just... glad you’re home.” 

Home. 

He lifted his gaze, meeting her eyes once again. She wasn’t lying when she said it.

Home. He took a slow breath. Anywhere she was, that was his home.

“I know we don’t owe each other anything,” Honey said, coy. “And I know you really like rules, so... could we add one? If... if one of us isn’t home, could you at least—I don’t know— tell me you’re okay? At night, if-if you feel like you need to be away again.” The timidness of her voice broke his heart. “So I don’t worry?”

He looked at her like he’d just discovered a planet. How long had it been since anyone worried if he didn’t come home? How long has it been since he was home?

Eyes glistening, he couldn’t find the words. He just nodded. His mind was spinning with guilt, grief, loneliness and longing. Over a decade’s worth. Shyly, his eyes darted around. He hadn’t thought about the fact that she’d been in the room when he killed the Rat—Dexter Bennett, that two-faced asshole, always knew he was dirty—and therefore, witnessed the brutality of his rage. 

She saw him at his worst. Sometimes, Peter felt like his worst was all he had to offer. The fact that she was worried instead of horrified was unbelievable.

“Do you want to get dinner sometime?” she blurted. 

His head snapped over, eyes widened. “Wh... what?”

Her voice was thick with anxiety. “I-I’ve been thinking about it, and... and I mean, we have dinner together all the time, but-but it’s different, because we’re at the house—and there’s nothing wrong with that! It’s just—um, it’s not really anything special. Not that I want something special—like, I’m not asking for a Michelin star or anything—also, why are the people who make tires in charge of judging what we eat? That’s so weird. But anyway, I was thinking, since—y’know, everything has been happening so fast, and... we... sometimes, I feel like we-we barely know each other, y’know?. Or, y’know, in a... deeper way, a-a more.. A closer way. And, y’know... that’s why I thought that we should... should—”

“You wanna have dinner? With me?” he sounded stunned beyond belief.

“Yes!” Honey responded with a relieved sigh. Then, she back-tracked. “I mean... not like... a date, or anything—” 

He grimaced subtly, trying to hide it. 

“Unless... Unless you want it to be?”

His breath caught in his throat. Looked up at her, like he was caught in a dream. Held that gaze for as long as he could, then looked away. Bit his lower lip. Pocketed his hands in his jeans. “That depends,” he said, shifting his molasses eyes to her, sparkling with charm. “You got any plans this Saturday night?”

There he was. Her friend. Honey failed to hide her teeth, feeling a blush travel up her neck. “Um... not particularly.” She smiled, tension lifting. At the sight of her friend, the bats in her stomach became butterflies again and threatened to lift her off the ground. “Why?” 

At the sight of her smile, he returned a thousand-watt grin. She couldn’t contain the giggle that escaped her lips. They were teenagers again. Like schoolchildren, nervously swallowing stupid smiles, both of them trying to regain their composure.

“Because,” he said, his voice like honey, “I wanna take you to dinner.” She blushed, and he fixed her with a warm gaze, only cooling a bit. “And I wanna prove myself, that I-I... that I’m more,” he swallowed hard, the sincerity returning to his words. “More than just—”

The words fell away from his lips, his heart plunging into sorrow. She saw the drop, her smile fading at the sight. Goddamn doe eyes. She felt suddenly guilty. Alarmed. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, no, I gotta say this, just let me say this,” he puffed, refocusing his intent. “I haven’t always been good to you. I know that. And I want you to know that I can be better. I wanna prove to you that I know how to treat a woman right, and... That I can treat you the way you deserve to be treated.” He swallowed hard, voice evening out, “You make me feel things that I didn’t even know I was still capable of feeling.”

Her eyes grew wide at this admission. He meant it. 

Dozens of feelings he thought were extinct. Joy. Mercy. Nerves. Excitement. Affection. Love.

“Hope.” He muttered, speaking the word like it was the name of a long-lost friend. “And for that, I know dinner is meaningless. But... it’s a start.”  He gazed at her endearingly, and it made her heart swell. 

“Yes,” she said, her smile equally bittersweet. “I’d love that.”

This wasn’t a date. Not the date. Peter assured her as much. 

Their date was Saturday, and it was Friday. And this wasn’t it.

She felt ridiculous. Stumbling around in an ivory-and-gold-sequined Versace mini dress she honestly mistook for a long-sleeved shirt. 

Hours before, Felicia raided her closet, tossing items at her with a fired-up ‘surprise, bitch, you and me are goin’ out!’ 

Felicia picked the shirt, laughing when Honey asked for the pants. She chose a carefully-curated item from the shoe collection—lace-up your boots, soldier— and chucked them at her. Disappointingly, they were not combat boots. Instead, it was a pair of black, pointed-toe Jimmy Choo stiletto pumps with crystal ankle straps. 

Honey brought up her concerns—how am I supposed to walk in those and not show my ass in this tiny shirt?— which Felicia also laughed off.

Because it wasn’t a shirt. It was an actual dress. And now, Honey felt like she was gripping the hem like the edge of a cliff, with wobbly legs like a baby giraffe on stilts.

“This... this isn’t the date,” Peter swore, sensing her discomfort as they pulled up. He opted for another Saint Laurent pairing—a burgundy velvet blazer, black silky shirt and black gabardine pants, along with Louboutin leather oxfords.

There was a row of freezing club-goers shivering on the sidewalk outside in a line wrapped around the block. Peter helped Honey out of the SUV, and guided her straight past the line. Keeping a respectful few inches of distance, he held his palm near her lower back as they walked through the entrance of the trendy, luxurious nightclub simply known as ‘Web.’ 

Which was a stupid name, she told Peter. 

Turns out it was his club.

And this wasn’t the date. It was business. 

Peter and his associates needed to visit a friend, he explained. This ‘night out’ was really a show of force, Honey realized. He was bringing his top lieutenants, Felicia, Miguel, and Eddie, to the party, as well as at least a dozen other faceless guards, who were told laughably to ‘blend in’ to the crowd.

The inside of the place was overwhelming. Instantly, her senses were overloaded. It was enormous, which made the exclusivity confusing. Sounds and sights and sensation hit her from all sides, a mixture of sirens, lasers, colored spotlights, confetti and fog cannons shooting off. At this stage, they were protected from the sweaty, bustling crowd below, observing the raging party from a balcony. Occasionally, she was blinded by the bright flashing of a 100-foot LED wall, which served as a backdrop for the DJ and could also light-up Times Square if they were close enough. 

Instinctively, she clutched Peter’s arm, worrying her rouge lip with her teeth. The feeling of her warmth set fire to his body. “This won’t take long,” he assured her, apologetically.

“Okay, Dad,” Felicia chirped, skipping up to them and hooking Honey’s free arm in hers. “If it’s okay with you, we’re gonna go out and play, byeeee!” She whisked her away, dragging her towards a staircase. Honey gave Peter a dizzied look as she was lead away.

His muscles pulled taut as his Honey disappeared from view. An ominous lump weighed down his stomach. He would’ve never brought her here at all, if it wasn’t his name on the lease. Felicia insisted that she needed a little freedom. A chance to blow off steam. And an opportunity for Peter to not come off like “a creepy, stalkerish, Nirvana’s-First-Album psychopath who collects her hair to make dolls.”

He grimaced at her comparison. I’m not that bad, am I?

After he tore someone’s head off in front of his whole crew, he figured his reputation could use a little improvement. And Peter wasn’t keen to leave her alone at home again, especially after Vegas.

“You doin’ okay?” Eddie asked quietly. Peter glanced over at him, yanking his downcast eyes from the floor. 

“Um,” he said, clearing his throat. Barely loud enough for the other man to hear. “Yeah, I’m just...uh, I... ” 

—monster... betrayer... parasite—

“That devil on your shoulder again?” Eddie asked with a sympathetic frown. 

Taking a deep breath, Peter nodded his head, rubbing his face tiredly. Eddie quietly observed him, then glanced around to make sure no one else was in ear shot. “Look, uh... I don’t wanna go into the details but... just so you know... nothin’ happened.”

Peter looked over at him, confused. Eddie stared back with an awkward, unsynchronized, conspiratorial wink. The other man knitted his brow incredulously. “What?”

“Y’know,” Eddie said, leaning in closer. “In Vegas.”

Peter’s face flushed red, brows raised. 

“Remember I said I scrubbed the security footage,” Eddie whisper-shouted, more conspicuously than he intended. “I scrubbed it. Saw everything.”

Peter’s eyes bugged out. “Wait, what?”

“Not everything!” Eddie whisper-exclaimed urgently. “I mean, nothing came out. Like, your junk didn’t come out. I didn’t see it.”

Peter felt his soul leave his body. He stared at Eddie him in horror, mouth agape, desperately shaking his head ‘no.’ 

“Like she was all over you,” Eddie whisper-explained, “in your fugue state, but it was nothin’ R rated. Didn’t make it past second base. No penetration, y’know? Except for the sword, when she—”

Peter threw up a hand, grimacing, “Okay, I don’t really want—”

“Your virtue is still intact, is what I’m tryin’ t’say,” Eddie whisper-blurted, like ripping off a bandaid. “Y’know. Your honor hasn’t been... uh... fucked away, I guess.”

Tight-lipped, Peter nodded rapidly, side-eyeing him. “Yeah, no, no, I appreciate that.”

“I’m just lookin’ out f’you, is all. I jus’thought you should know—”

“No, I get that. Got it. Thank you. Thank you—”

“In case you were broken up about it, y’know?"

“Yeah, yeah, thank you. Let’s...” Peter cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. Swallowing his mortified embarrassment, he added, cordially, “Let’s... uh... let’s not talk about this ever again, yeah?”

“For sure,” Eddie whisper-agreed.

Peter took a deep, steadying breath, glancing around at his group, hearing them grow impatient.

Miguel glared at them from a distance, dissatisfied. “Are we gonna do this, or are you two gonna keep flirting? At least somebody buy the other a drink.”

Perturbed, Peter leveled a stern gaze at Miguel, silencing him. He then turned back to Eddie. “Keep an eye on them, will ya?” he asked, with a head-nod towards the dance floor. Worry in his eyes.

“Sure,” the other man nodded. Eddie left to look for Felicia and Honey, feeling the burn of judgmental gazes from the rest of Peter’s crew on his back. 

Rowdy shouts echoed from a separate lounge area perched above the crowd, the sounds lost and buried by the thrumming base of a Masked Wolf mix. Peter and Miguel glanced over at the sound of the commotion.

Scantily-clad models presented at least a half-dozen, ice-filled chillers of expensive bottles to a table like sacrificial offerings. They approached the altar with lit Roman Candles, the sparks from the fireworks raining down like the Fourth of July. A dozen other women—at least one of whom was an actual supermodel— gave praise with flutes and glasses raised.

With a skeptical glare, Peter narrowed his eyes on the center of everyone’s attention—the god they were all there to worship. His old friend. Professional boxer and future heavyweight champion of the world, Danny ‘Iron Fist’ Rand.

“You’d think he’d be taking it easy, especially right before a big fight.” Peter turned towards the voice of another one of his associates—the manager of the club, Jessica Drew. 

The gorgeous woman strode towards the group flaunting a cardinal red, wide-leg jumpsuit with citrine-jeweled embellishments on the halter neckline. Her fluffy, blown-out coils were pulled up high in a wide, red, ruched-fabric headband. A matching golden jewel glittered at the crown of the wrap.

“Jessica,” Peter greeted her with a warm gaze. 

She glanced over to the Rand party with a withering look, rolling her eyes. “Boys never know when to give it a rest, huh?”

Peter softly smiled, nodding in reply. “No rest for the wicked,” he replied. “Let’s get this done, yeah?”

Continue to Part 12

[back to masterlist]

a/n Part 11 and 12 were originally one section, so think of this as 11.A.

If you want to be tagged, please reblog so I can add you to the list. And thank you for all of your comments, replies, asks, and feedback, to me and to other fanfic writers. Your support keeps fanfic alive.

[watori-fics]

Scars

In which Hyuse sees Osamu's wounds from the invasion in the Tamakoma baths.

Characters / Pairing: HyuOsa (Hyuse | Mikumo Osamu) Summary: On trigger-off days, Osamu & Hyuse are drenched in their normal bodies and need a bath. Osamu shows empathy and acknowledges Hyuse’s situation while Hyuse maintains his pride. The dynamic between them feels more layered now, especially with the hints of Hyuse’s internal struggle. Note: Hehehe, the sucker for those in need and the spoiled baby boy... Perfect duo!

The rain poured down relentlessly as Hyuse and Osamu hurried back to Tamakoma dorm, both soaked to the bone. The heavy downpour had caught them off guard, and by the time they reached the base, their clothes were dripping wet. Since they only needed to do the Tamakoma's share of grocery, they were both out with their normal body, including Hyuse, who went out with his hoodie to cover his horns.

"Man, that came out of nowhere," Osamu muttered, pushing his glasses up only for them to fog up again.

Konami, Yuma, and Chika were waiting for them inside, the girls armed with towels.

"Geez, you two look like you just swam back here. Like drowned rats," Konami snickered, tossing Hyuse a towel.

Chika shyly handed Osamu his towel. “You should get to the bath, Osamu.”

Osamu nodded, gratefully taking it. “Thanks, Chika.”

Hyuse and Osamu made their way to the big Ofuro at Tamakoma dorm, both silently retreating to their own thoughts as they stripped off their wet clothes, washed their bodies, and stepped into the warm bath. The steam rose up, instantly soothing the chill that had settled in their bones.

Hyuse leaned back against the bath’s edge, arms resting lazily along the sides, while Osamu settled across from him. As Osamu shifted, Hyuse’s sharp eyes caught sight of the scars running down his chest, side, and leg—three distinct, deep marks.

He frowned slightly, his curiosity piqued, but typical of Hyuse, he didn’t ask outright.

“What happened there?” he asked, nodding subtly toward the wounds on Osamu’s body.

Osamu looked down, brushing his fingers absentmindedly over the scar on his chest. “Oh… these? They’re from the invasion. I got them when I turned my trigger off. I… got caught off guard.”

Hyuse raised an eyebrow. “Caught off guard? From what?”

“There was this woman… I don’t know her name. She had some kind of teleportation ability, and before I could react, she… well, she hit me. Hard.” Osamu’s voice was matter-of-fact, but the weight of the memory lingered.

Hyuse’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t familiar with the exact encounter, but teleportation and such a deadly attack? It could only be Mira, one of the elites of Aftokrator. He hadn’t realized she had personally engaged Osamu.

“She must have been strong,” Hyuse mused, his voice lacking the usual arrogance. It was a strange thing, acknowledging his former comrades’ strength in this context.

Osamu nodded. “Yeah… I didn’t even have time to fight back. If I had been stronger, I might have been able to stop her. You knew her?”

“Of course.” Hyuse’s eyes narrowed slightly, recalling memories of his time as one of Aftokrator’s warriors. “She was one of the most trusted aides to our commander. Calculating and cold. The kind who only moves when it’s to her benefit.”

The silence stretched for a moment as the sound of water gently rippling filled the air. Osamu studied Hyuse’s face, realizing that despite his calm exterior, there was something deeper stirring beneath his former enemy’s surface.

“Must’ve been hard for you… being forced to serve them.”

Hyuse didn’t respond right away, instead lowering his head slightly. “I followed orders. That’s all I knew.”

Osamu sighed, leaning back against the warm tile. “And now you’re stuck here. Away from your home. I can’t imagine how that must feel.”

“It’s not that simple,” Hyuse muttered. “I chose to come here to serve a greater purpose. But…” He paused, then glanced at Osamu. “Can't say I'm happy with the outcome.”

Osamu didn’t press further, sensing Hyuse wasn’t ready to fully talk about it. Instead, he offered a soft smile. “Thanks for telling me about it. I guess… we have more in common than I thought.”

Hyuse scoffed, his usual pride creeping back into his voice. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not here to bond.”

Osamu chuckled. “Of course not.”

But despite Hyuse’s words, something unspoken passed between them. The shared battle scars—both physical and emotional—bridged a gap that had once felt much larger. In the quiet warmth of the bath, they found a moment of understanding, no words necessary.

And maybe, just maybe, they both felt a little closer.

“You fought against elite warriors of Aftokrator. Your chances weren’t great, no matter what you did. But…” Hyuse glanced at Osamu with a flicker of something like respect. “You survived.”

Osamu offered a small smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

The bath fell into a comfortable silence, both boys reflecting on their battles. Despite their differences, there was an unspoken understanding between them now, forged by the scars they each carried—both physical and emotional.

And with that, the two of them soaked in the warmth, a little closer than they had been before, though neither would ever admit it.

[qah-naarin]

“ it’s dark outside, and it’s raining. my arms are much safer. “ for arpinaak

thsnk u slaine,,, i should be asleep rn but fuck it. arpina trauma comes first. kind of warped the prompt but closr rnough <33 did this whole thing on my phone so if formst is weird i shall fix tmrw,,

✧ word count: 1243 ✵ warnings: trauma ✧ tags: Trauma *sigh*, miraak being gentle, arpina centric tbh, angst + fluff ✵ ship: arpina sun-stealer/miraak ✧ characters: arpina sun-stealer, miraak ✵ tag list: @reachfolk, @lookathooves, @gingerpositivibee, ask to be added!

"It'll rain soon," Miraak says under his breath, eyes up on the darkening sky. He seems distracted by it—they had encountered snow, sun, and the sea for most of their travels. Only now have they experienced rain together—his first time since his imprisonment. "Look."

Arpina was already looking, though more at him than the sky. She eyes the dark, blooming clouds overhead with unease. "I can see that," she says, tone short. She doesn't mean to, but she can't help it—force of habit to keep quiet in uncomfortable situations.

Miraak glances down at her, seemingly surprised. He doesn't say anything, though, and they keep walking through the woods of Western Falkreath. They were intending to head to Lake Ilinalta to stay for the night, but clearly, they would be detained by the poor weather. It's not the first time this has happened, but she'll be damned if, for the first time in a few years, it's rain stopping her.

Arpina shifts uneasily but continues walking next to him. She doesn't want to seem scared, not at all. After all, it's only rain. Nothing more, nothing less, right?

There is nothing (everything) to be afraid of.

It's not even ten minutes when the rain is lashing down like whips, mud spraying up Miraak and Arpina's heels as they seek shelter from the rain under a tree. It's a bit of a reprieve, thankfully—rain no longer hitting them head-on. Still, it doesn't make the situation any less worse. Arpina shivers, already soaked to the bone, wet hair clinging to her nape uncomfortably. Lucky, lucky her—she'd cast a charm on their bags to keep them safe from any sort of weather. She sets her bag down, rolling her shoulders back to ease the ache—and then a thunderclap cracks through the sky. Arpina flinches so hard she pulls a muscle in her shoulder.

"A storm," Miraak comments, though more to himself than anything else. "It has been a while."

"I can imagine," Arpina mutters, and leans back against the trunk, swallowing back the anxiety settling into her bones. It's like meeting an old enemy. Someone who was once a friend, their betrayal filling you with anxious, angry dread. She closes her eyes for a second, hoping it will ease her fears—it does not, and it only serves to heighten the rest of her senses.

She tries to keep a shudder down, but it shakes right through her and thr only thing she can do in the moment to calm herself is undoing her soaked-through braids and tying it up, smoothing wet hair away from her face. As she does so, she runs the heel of her palm over her eyes—the rain does well in hiding any tears that may have fallen. It doesn't do much, but at least it's something. Even under the tree, she feels terribly exposed.

Gritting her teeth, Arpina sets herself to complete and utter silence.

Another thunderclap. It's dizzyingly loud, and lightning flashes so brightly, so closely she forgets to breathe as she chokes up with horror. She can see it, the steaming, blackened earth in the middle of the road, the spot they had vacated in favor of the tree.

Arpina swallows back the lump in her throat, mouth dry. Her fingers are so cold, she can't quite feel them. The lightning—light and darkness swim in and out of her vision, creeping at the edges and swirling before her eyes. Too close. The lightning was far too close. The last time it was that close, it was—

"Fine!" she screams, holding her hands out as she stares up at the gloomy sky, lightning flashing and lighting up the darkness. The scream fades into a hysterical laugh, not at all happy and edging into insane. "Take the damned sun, too! I can't have anything decent, can I?"

No. Clearly not.

Arpina is tired and utterly exhausted, angry and mad and starving for some control over her life. Maybe she has had too much of it. Pushing anyone past the breaking point would be merciless. To strike them down then is, in essence, murder.

She never does find out if it was fate or a god that delivers that bolt of lightning to tear into her. That flashing, thousand-degree heat that burns her scars into her, the blinding light that had seared a permanent mark on her heart. It had left her stumbling and helpless.

"Arpina." It is the clarity of his voice that pulls her from that forceful reverie.

She turns to Miraak, face tight in an attempt to keep herself steady as the storm thunders through them. "I—yes?" she asks, voice brittle and weak. She doesn't sound like herself—there is the absence of the carefree air, no casual note to her tone. Instead, she is tightly wound up, curling her fears—and along with that the rest of her spirit—into a little ball.

Arpina looks up at Miraak, tries to keep her gaze steady to his.

Green. She likes how bright his eyes are. Not dark, nothing like lightning. Green, like magic, like the spring earth.

"Are you al—" he asks, and his voice is soft. It is soft, gentle as though sharpness would break her. Like she is fragile.

Maybe she is. It doesn't mean she'd like to hear it. But the placid cadence of his voice just tears right through the dam of words she'd been trying to keep in.

"You've been hit my those spells, before, right? Shock spells? The ones that are like—the ones like lightning," Arpina interrupts suddenly, as though desperate to explain, like being unable to speak will kill her. "It hurts, doesn't it? It hits you, it's hot, you can't move—when I was a kid, I got hit with one of those. You—you don't realize how bad you're hit until you see after, you get these scars that look like lightning where you're hit—if it's magic, it fades, but—"

She only registers the wide-eyed worry on Miraak's face now, but even as she does so, even as he says her name, asks her to slow to down, to explain clearly—she can't.

"Arpina," he says, voice echoing strangely. The rain is quieter. Muted. "You're cold. Come here." She doesn't move immediately, but there is no resistance when he gently tugs her to his chest.

"The scars, they're like branches, like branching lines. Right in the skin you can see it. I was bruised for—bruised for weeks and I—"

"Arpina," he repeats for the third time. "Say it."

"I was struck. By lightning," she gasps out, dizzy from the breathlessness of panic. "Right—not magic, no—right from the sky. It hurt, I was alone, and I—"

"I won't let you get hurt again," Miraak interrupts, fierce in his conviction. Disbelief suspended—he did not even question her words. It quiets her. "You're right here. In my—in my arms. You're safer than you were then."

Arpina takes in sharp, shallow breaths, slowing the pace her fear had set her heart to. "I'm safe," she tells herself sharply, forcing the words out of her mouth for it to pierce right back through her. "I'm fine."

"You're safe," Miraak echoes, quiet. Soft. It is a distinct contrast to her forcefulness. He is cajoling, gentle even. She would not have believed it had he not been saying the words to her as the storm fell upon the rest of the world. It is quiet suddenly. There is no storm here. "You are fine."

[hotwings0203]

Hello!!! Soooo I came up with a few headcanons for Muslim Bakugou, JajkjGhoA I can't wait to read your response! 😫🤲💖

Okay! So he is definitely the good husband who does house chores! He actually helps around the house, knows how to do all the chores, and all the other girls are so jealous of you lolll

He will make you the best food! He knows all your favourite dishes, and will spoil you with his cooking! Also he will make your favourite desserts as a form of apology for when he pisses you off or makes you upset

Will feed you when he's trying out new dishes, and when you're getting married during the mehndi, when you feed him laddu or gulab jamun, he will blush so hard but also holds your wrist to "guide" you, as everyone giggles and teases you two for being so flustered and blushy around each other

If you make his favorite dishes?? Like okay imagine you make his fav dish (after asking the bakusquad cuz he's hard to approach lol) and subtly give it to him or maybe get Kirishima to give it to him as you leave the mosque or arrive at some community party or something, homeboi will blush so hard and will not let anyone have even the tiniest bite of your cooking

As a thanks he will buy you churiyan! He will see you admiring them and will come up and awkwardly but gruffly ask you if you like that certain churiyan set (that is like a pretty red and gold) and when you say yes, he will proceed to buy it for you, and omg if the bakusquad see this, Denki and Sero will definitely tease him and be like you should put them on her! While you're like omg! Wait, the adults will see! And he just surprises everyone as he gently grabs your hand and puts them on you and just admires how soft your hands are, and how they fit in his hand, and thinks about how pretty they would look with a wedding ring on them, and you are just standing there blushing so hard, and when he sees you wearing those churiyan at other events he feels so proud and possessive and happy

Weak for your smile and laugh, and very protective of you, will blow someone's head off for making you upset or for disrespecting you. Your parents love him so much, will immediately say yes to the rishta! Also, his parents love you so much, you and Masaru are the calm to Bakugou and Mitsuki raging tempers lmfaoo

You're the only one who gets to see his soft side and soft while without being threatened with death loll lucky youuu~ Also! Everyone will tease him sooooo much for being soft for you, the girls and aunties always giggle when they see how soft he is with you when you guys are out in public and he won't deny it either loll

In public he's kinda reserved with pda, but likes it when you hold his hand or loosely hook your arm around his muscled arms. He will however, put an arm on your lower back to steer you away from an uncomfortable situation or will step in front of you to protect you

In private he will be cuddly, loves wrapping his arms around you, forhead kisses too! You will be a blushing, flustered mess as he leans down by your ear and teases you about it in his low gruff voice. Also just loves the feel of your soft body against his

Also! Omg say its eid or something, and you're getting your mehndi done, the bakusquad will push him to sit with you and help you since you're mehndi is still wet. He will gruffly compliment your mehndi design, will get you food and feed it to you, will softly but hesitantly brush your hair away from your face when he sees that its bugging you, and this will make your both blush, and omg he will have the softest look in this eyes at that moment, and his hand will linger by your pretty earnings, and will just gaze at your lips with a lustful gaze as you softly whisper thank you

When the mehndi dries, and Denki makes a comment about how dark and rich the color is and is like damn Bakugou you really have it bad for y/n huh? Both of you will be so flustered and while Bakugou chases Denki while yelling that hes gonna blow his head off, you just stand there will Mina and Ochako and giggle at his antics, and the girls will tease you about you have gotten Bakugou wrapped around your fingers and that you shouldn't be surprised when his parents approach your parents with a rishta

AunwQniwa anyways Muslim Bakugou will love you so much and cherish you and just RIP to your heart 😫😭💖

YO YES MY GAWD LETS ASSESS THIS MFKIN FOOD YOU JUST GAVE US

okay so 100% YES!! Y’all seen mitsuki? She ain’t havin none of that “I’m the only son so treat me like a king” bs. No no, our girlboss femdom Mistski Auntie has her two boys cookin and cleanin every weekend and massaging her feet, as she SHOULD!

These habits carry on to when he gets married also. His wife could be doing the dishes one day right after their wedding and he would walk by, peeking over her shoulder at her hand-to-sponge technique.

“You’re doing it wrong dumbass. Use the hard side to scrub the crumbs off and then the soft side to polish it.” He snatches the plate from your hands and starts vigorously rubbing it the way you couldn’t. You stare at him, flabbergasted that a mom in the desi community has actually succeeded in raising her son right.

“‘The fuck are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” you quickly say, stepping aside to let him work his magic. He merely grunts and picks up the next bowl.

In a moment of bravado, you lean over to kiss his cheeks. He stops scrubbing and just stares at the sponge in his hands, his face slowly going red as a beet.

When you two fight, you already know he’s gonna be yelling at the top of his lungs and stomping around the house, the explosions from his hands searing the furniture around you.

It’s enough to set you off and storm out of the house too. You need a fucking break, he can be so much to handle sometimes.

It’s around late evening that you come back in the garage from wherever you decide to cool off from. The house is silent and dark from the outside so you assume he fell asleep with the usual scowl on his face.

You sigh and drop your keys and purse on the counter, exhausted from the day’s drama. Form the corner of your eye you see a small candle on the kitchen table alight, and you walk over to put it out.

Except right in front of the candle, there’s a small plate of mithai(sweets) that has a note attached to it.

“Sorry for being an ass” is written in his chicken scratch writing. You smile and shake your head, taking a bite from the surprisingly well-made gulaab jamun.

It’s a good thing Katsuki hid Sato’s recipe in one of the cabinets before you came home.

And just like you said, the man is WHIPPED for your cooking. He’s always pulling you to the kitchen and lightly shoving you around the stove, gruffly telling you to add more spices that he knows you can recreate to a T.

Whenever the Bakusquad comes over to hang out, you try to cook the same way you know Katsuki likes (extra spicy), but for some reason on those exact days you can’t seem to find any of your special ingredients…

At other times maybe before your marriage, when he first began falling in love with you he would see you admiring a vendor’s churiyaan and earrings.

He would quietly walk up behind you maybe a foot or two away, observing how you fit the bangles on your wrist.

“I like the red ones on you,” he says lowly, making sure to dwindle down his usual aggressive tone.

You turn and gently smile at him. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because red is what brides wear.”

Your heart beats fast as he takes your wrist, oh so delicate compared to his callous large hands.

“And the silver makes me think of the ring I’ll have on you in no time soon.”

Bakugo closes his eyes in front of you and inhales, letting you know that everything about you draws him closer.

When you guys walk around a college campus or even in town, he’s always looking left and right shiftily, convinced that every man within a mile of you is trying to steal you away. He’ll stand in front of you when a guy asks you where a certain building is, he’ll glare at his friends when they get too rowdy and rough with you, but he still gets nervous for PDA. He knows how fast word travels around in desi communities so he doesn’t want to do anything in public, but fuck when he gets home he’s pinning you on the bed and resting his entire weight on you.

At eid as stated above^^ he’ll see you in your lengha or kurti and get INSANELY nervous and flustered at your beauty. The way you sit poised and laughing with Mina and ochako while your mehndi is being done makes his palms sweat and his armpits prickly. He has to wipe them on his kameez almost three times before taking one last look at you and walking away.

Well, at least he tries to walk away. He’s promptly sought out and grabbed by his three cronies, who drag him by nail and tooth towards you. No amount of swearing and growling threats to ‘blow their ass up so bad people will piecing them back together for weeks” stops them from bringing him closer to you.

“Yeah yeah, you said that already,” Denki smirks and playfully zaps his ass so that he helps and lurches forwards towards you.

The commotion makes the girls look up and wave excitedly when they spot the rowdy men.

You bite your lip and give Bakugo a meek little grin, which makes steam curl from his ears.

“Heyyy ladiesss, got room for one more?” Sero drawls and throws an arm over the simmering grenade of a man.

“Hmm,” Mina mockingly contemplates for a minute before she slowly starts to get up, uraraka following pursuit. “Not at the moment, but maybe we could make some room…” she tackles Bakugo and Kirishima also kicks the back of his knees so that he folds cleanly into the chair next to you.

You look bewildered at everybody while they snicker at Bakugo’s vermillion face.

He glared at them and after an oblivious moment or two they get the hint and wink before backing off.

“So, uh, how long have you been getting your hand done for?”

You grin at his inexperience with these kinds of things, but still indulge him.

“About 25 minutes or so.”

“25 min-“ his eyes grow wide and the whole hall turns to him as he screams at your poor designer for making you ‘sit on her cute ass for such a goddamn long time. And why the hell doesn’t she have food yet??’

At least he thought you were cute

💓💓

[nolansnose]

To my moots: I did A THING. Wrote a lil something. A Nolpat imagine *gasps*

This is unfinished and I will only be updating this everytime Patty gets a point or better yet, score a goal!

Edited and rb'd because this has been updated!

(With added steam 🙈)

Summary: Surprise!

Nolan Patrick x whoever you wanna pair him with in your head

UNTITLED

They hadn't exchanged any kind of communication in three weeks. That kind of radio silence from both their ends wasn't normal. It has been a month since they saw each other last, they were both busy --- she with the endless demands and responsibilities of being the new executive assistant to the director of medical services while Nolan was training in preparation for the incoming season.

It amazes her how they were able to give each other attention in the past year and how they haven't given up on each other. It wasn't easy, it's daunting at times, at least for her.

For someone with such a demanding job and schedule, she truly couldn't figure out how she was able to give time to Nolan.

She didn't understand how someone like her was able to pique his interest or that he continued to give her attention, well, not until these past few weeks. She may be busy but during moments that she wasn't thinking about work, Nolan makes sudden, sometimes unwelcome appearances in her thoughts.

Unwelcome because she shouldn't be thinking about him. They're not... Argh! She sighed and put down the book she's trying so hard to understand in her lap. She's in an old cottage by the beach, alone for this long weekend, her first non work related trip after a long while since being appointed and she's alone. She should be relaxing, resting, eating sumptuous meals and reading this... Shit it was Nolan who gave her this book. Why did she pick this one to bring? She sighed again and tried for the nth time to relax in the couch she was perched on. She put her feet up in the arm rest and reached for the tea in the side table to drink but grimaced as its already cold.

As cold as the weather that wasnt apt for the place she was in. Beaches are made for warm, summery weather, not rain and cold drafts. She looked out the window and shook her head because it was still raining. The rain peltering the roof was loud and... what was that?

She heard something beside the raindrops. Footsteps. Rustling. Knocking? Was someone knocking?

But she wasn't expecting anyone.

Still, she stood up and headed for the kitchen which was near the parking area of the resort she was in. She clutched her chest when she saw another shadow beside the plants outside. Shit! A thief? But this was an exclusive resort!

She grabbed the fruit bowl in the counter and headed for the kitchen door. There was that sound again. Footsteps. And knocking.

She took a deep breath and raised the bowl above her head, ready to whack whoever was on the other side of that door. She unfastened the locks and opened the door.

"Fuck!", the 'intruder' called out and caught the bowl before it made contact with his face.

"Nolan?", she blinked.

The newcomer put down the bowl and raised the hood of his jacket. "Hi,"

"I thought you were a thief!"

Nolan looked at her with amusement. " I knocked but there was no answer."

"When was that? I didn't hear anything."

"Uh, five minutes ago?", he asked as he grabbed a clean towel out of the basket on the washing machine near the door. "May I?"

She exhaled loudly while moving away from the door so Nolan could dry his shoes in the mat and removed his jacket which was also wet.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. How did he even know she was here? Oh. Right. She remembered telling him about this weekend trip the last time they were together.

"I missed you," he said. "You didn't text or call."

"You never did, too," she pointed out.

"Hey, I called," he said with a bit of pain in his voice.

"When did you call?"

"Are you going to let me come in or do I have to defend myself by your kitchen door?"

2

"What's that for?", she asked having glanced at his backpack.

"Change of clothes. I've been in town for a few days, actually ", he replied honestly.

She gave him another quick look before going back to retrieve the cup of tea in the living room and brought it up in the kitchen to heat in the microwave. She felt his eyes on her while she set the timer.

"Chamomile?", Nolan asked just as he put down his already opened backpack in the kitchen counter and took out a clean pair of socks.

She didn't know whether to be irritated or happy that he remembered her preference. Normally, she'd appreciate it but now she felt cornered. Vulnerable. She came here to unwind, rest and think, -- to escape from all that's troubling her -- that included Nolan.

Yep, trouble. That's Nolan, alright. What else would you call the man who chose to entangle himself with someone like her? Even for a weekend, she wanted a break. She wanted him out of her head, her body and her bed.

"You still haven't answered why you're here," she took the mug out of the oven and set it on the counter. She caught the smirk on his face. "What?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Nolan took a step towards her and tenderly caressed her arm."Didn't you miss me?"

She looked up into his eyes to see a worry there she didn't normally see.

They've talked about their situation a handful of times before, where they're headed eventually. Together they've decided that its better if no one else knew whatever kind of relationship they were to have.

She can't remember exactly how that topic came about, but they wound up in bed together before defined lines were ever set.

This, whatever this was, has gone on for a year, a short time compared to others. She knew she shouldn't keep her hopes or expectations up, but sometimes, she gets tired of her feelings being hurt from a misunderstanding because nothing was solid or made public. Sometimes the feelings were his. Sometimes he acted jealous or frustrated because she behaved in a way that made him question the exclusivity they had agreed on a year ago.

"Not at all?" His low, lazy voice pulled her back from her thoughts.

She shook her head. "No."

He leaned into her some more, their closeness made her feel like she's drowning. "Liar."

Then his mouth met hers and she instinctively opened her mouth to allow his tongue to enter. He tasted sweet and salty like caramel popcorn. He satisfied every urge and each craving.

A whimper escaped her throat and he had her pushed against the counter with one hand in her hair as the other lifted her leg and grabbed her ass. He knew how to completely envelop her into a whirlwind of sex. It started out with a kiss as it always did.

And this kiss grew more fervent and she felt a familiar hardness push against her in just the right place. He made her feel sexy and desirable in a way that she revelled in. His kisses were addictive.

Its hard to reclaim her sanity everytime they ended up like this, like he drained whatever courage she had left. But before she could totally gave in, she held Nolan's arm firmly and pushed him away from her. He moaned a little as a protest but moved away and let her right herself.

The desire for her was evident in his eyes, in his jeans and she tried not to look but his scent, his kiss lingered. She was still dazed and her heart was beating wildly.

"What?" He asked as he touched the edge of his mouth.

"We can't continue this, Nolan", she insisted.

He shook his head. "We're not doing anything we haven't done bef----"

"No", she cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "This as in hiding. We thought it wont get this complicated given our work and who we are, we thought it'd be easy. None of this is easy, Nolan."

"Thank you for saying we, instead of you," he nodded as he answered. "Seriously. We both said this unofficial exclusive thing would be easy and a breeze and I'm glad you didn't pile the blame for your feelings just on me."

She looked at him carefully. Sometimes, his prankness still startled and overwhelmed her. She hoped and tried hard for its effect to not register on her face.

"Whoa," he said with one eyebrow raised when her gaze turned squinty. "Why are you looking at me like I just told you I'm getting married or something?"

"Let's end this, Nolan," she said in a faint voice, then grabbed the mug of tea again.

She felt him observing her eventhough her attention was on the tea she's drinking.

"You already said that four months ago."

"This time I meant it." She said in a voice lacking of conviction.

[borathae]

OH SIB BABY, LETS TALK SHALL WE

I had my first exam today... woooh... anyways i cudnt msg u before but here i am now...

I heard Kook cry last night THIS WAS VERYY UPSETTING... HOW TFF IS THIS GUY SO... COMFORTABLE IN BEING SOFT??? N Y DO I ALWAYS FIND ARROGANT EGOISTIC MEN AROUND ME INSTEAD...😭

THE FACT THAT ITS LIKE WHAT DAYSSS OF JK TRYING N OC BEING COMPLETELY IGNORANT N RUDE TO HIM ANDD STILLLL HIS FIRST INSTINCT WHEN HE SAW HER IN GYM IS TO TRY. OH MY GOD. THIS IS NOT NORMAL. PLS. SIBI PLS. OH GAWD NOOO... OH FK MY HEART IS WEEPING...🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈😭😭😭😭😭🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂

Take it. Kiss me. NOT ME FEELING THINGS BETWEEN MY LEGS... ITS U WHO'S WET IM NOT WET!!!!🙄🙄

Ok YG was so right... they did need some steam off... ok i again hv a few things to say

Oc's entire life changed within seconds n JK stood wid her like a pillar. She got betrayed by her lover, atleast thats wht she thought and JK was there for her, AS A FRIEND, A LISTENER, AND A LOVER TOOO . To know that in this messed up world there is a teeny tiny hope for her that Tae didnt betray her... is literally her driving force rn. And JK just did that to Tae. I dont think she s upset wid JK to be exact, its just the sense of "nothing is alreadg going according to me, my assumptions and my hopes... atleast just... if u cant help me... dont hurt him. Dont make it harder for me...."

Also, i dont wanna say this but, if ever its to come out that Tae was actually wrong JK wud be the first person she ll fall back to into crumbs n he ll pick her up and save her. And SHE KNOWS THAT. NOT YG BUT JK. Thats how much they adore each other and when oc totally acts as prick towards him(for her valid reasons) JK must feel, misunderstood n unaccepted

SO WHAT I MEAN IS... THE EMOTIONAL REALM OF THIS SITUATION IS SO FKD UP THAT THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERED WAS THAT THEY GENUINELY LOVE EACH OTHER AND YG JUST REMINDED THEM THAT THEY DID. YG U SMARTASS... OH WAIT MAYBE I MEANT U PRETTY ASS😊🙈

I want her to stop treating me like an asshole ME TOO BRO ME TOO🤗

I dont believe you SIBI, FIND ME SOMEONE LIKE SA!JK CUZ BITCH NOW IM TRIGGERED AS HELL

OK YG's WORDS ACTUALLY REMIND ME THAT IF IT WASNT THAT HE IS AN ABNORMALLY CRAZILY GUD PERSON... HE WUD NEVER BEHAVE SO GENTLY TOWARDS HER... JUST BEING UNDER THE SAME ROOF AND LETTING HER BE IS A BLESSING ENOUGH...

You make me so angry, princess I NEVER THOUGHT THIS SENTENCE WUD HV SUCH EFFECT ON ME...🥵🤧

You think i fuck everyone who angers me OH GOD SIBI PLS NOT HELPING MY YG FEELS

Come here, jungkook OH SOUNDS LIKE HE IS CALLING FOR MY DEATH😶😶😶😶😶

YG TOUCHING HER WHILE HE COMMANDS HER TO TOUCH JK. SIBI U CRAZY GIRL.

Continue, dont mind me 🥲YG BABE THATS NOT HOW THIS WORKS BABE

Imagine her as a vampire kook. OK WHY DO I FEEL LIKE YG HAS THOUGHT THOROUGHLYYYY ABOUT THIS N MAYBE EVEN... JACKED OFF TO IT?

Swallows you whole 😶

JK's THOUGHTS... OH MY MAN YG SHUD ALSO TELL US HIS ONCE IN A WHILE... BUT YEAH JKKKK😍

Show me that despite your anger for me...Admit it you dont hate me

THEY ARE A MARRIED COUPLE, FIGHT ME!

I THINK YG IS TRYING TO CONVINCE HIMSELF ITS OK TO LOVE OC🙄AS DEEPLY AS HE DOES...

Almost done princess dont give up now SIBI U JUST OH GOD I THINK I JUST CAME FROM READING😶

How's my girl doing IM IN LOVE SIR, WHAT ABOUT YOU?

OHK I DIDNT EVEN EXPECT SOMETHING SO DEEP. JK WAS SO HAPPY. GOD I THINK I ALMOST TEARED UP. OH GAWD GIVE THIS MAN ALL HAPPINESS... TO BE IN SUCH AN INTERNAL FIGHT ALL THE TIME AND ALSO NOT HAVING A LOVE LIFE AND ALSO NOT BEING ABLE TO FUCK IF NOT LOVE... GOD.

OH JK BEING ALL GIGGLY N TEARY CUZ HE FEELS LOVED. SIBI NOOOOOOO😭😭😭😭😭😭💜💜💜💜💜💜

OK I DO MISS TAE THO BUT ... IS IT SELFISH OF ME TO WANT A PARALLEL UNIVERSE WHERE YG-OC-JK ARE A THROUPLE?💜😭💜😭💜🤗🤗🤗🤗💜💜💜💜😭😭😭😭😭

SIBI U KILLED IT LIKE ALWAYS... U MADE ME FEEL THINGS... DAMN WOW WOW💜💜 -The Yelling Anon

GIRL LITERALLY THOUGH I CAN'T WRITE ANY OTHER KOOK THAN soft!KOOK and I am :(

I dont think she s upset wid JK to be exact, its just the sense of "nothing is alreadg going according to me, my assumptions and my hopes... atleast just... if u cant help me... dont hurt him. Dont make it harder for me...."

the entire part about kook being her pillar and comfort is already so AMAZING TO READ BUT THIS OMFMG THIS IS most definitely what she went through omfmg

THE EMOTIONAL REALM OF THIS SITUATION IS SO FKD UP THAT THE ONLY THING THAT MATTERED WAS THAT THEY GENUINELY LOVE EACH OTHER AND YG JUST REMINDED THEM THAT THEY DID.

*cries* so true bestie

You make me so angry, princess I NEVER THOUGHT THIS SENTENCE WUD HV SUCH EFFECT ON ME...🥵🤧

AND DONT FORGOT THE MASSIVELY AGGRESSIVE THRUST OF HIS HIPS THAT FOLLOWS LIKE SIR OFMMGMG please angry sex me more often wtfff

YG TOUCHING HER WHILE HE COMMANDS HER TO TOUCH JK. SIBI U CRAZY GIRL.

I am slut when it comes to yoonkook there is no denying that 🤪

Imagine her as a vampire kook. OK WHY DO I FEEL LIKE YG HAS THOUGHT THOROUGHLYYYY ABOUT THIS N MAYBE EVEN... JACKED OFF TO IT?

no. i will not think about this. wtfffffff why is the aspect of SA!Yoongi jacking off so hot?? is it because he always seems so unbothered so the thought that there were nights where he felt so fucking desperate that he actually let his hand dissapear between his legs is literally life ruining?? is it the tHOUGHT THAT THERE IS A POSSIBILITY THAT HE MOANED HER NAME ON ACCIDENT?? IS THE THOUGHT THAT IN THOSE MOMENTS YOONGI ACTUALLY ALLOWS HIS BODY TO REACT THE WAY IT WANTS TO REACT DURING PLEASURE?? I am going insANE stop it omfg I have fallen so hard for SA!Yoongi please don't make me fall even more by making me imagine him when he masturbates 😭😭

ALSO TELL US HIS ONCE IN A WHILE.

y E S min yOONGI YOU FUCKING WHORE TELL US YOUR THOUGHTS 😡😡😡

OK I DO MISS TAE THO BUT ... IS IT SELFISH OF ME TO WANT A PARALLEL UNIVERSE WHERE YG-OC-JK ARE A THROUPLE?

😶😶😶 no comment 🤐🤐🤐

NO BUT I LOVE THAT YOU LOVED THIS CHAPTER SO MUCH!! IT'S ONE OF MY FAVES TOO I WOULD KILL FOR YOONKOOK OMFMG 😭💜💜

[blue-slush-writing]

𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 1

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.2k

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩: 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮

𝐏𝐨𝐯: Izuku has finally been able to get out of an abusive relationship with Todoroki but can't seem to full escape, especially when all of their friends are trying to force them back together

Katsuki thought his life was perfect, but as soon as his daughter was unexpectedly born his girlfriend left, leaving him to be a father on his own. He's trying to make it through college while taking care of his 3 year old.

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: 𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠

Chapter 2

Izuku could roughly hear his alarm going off next to his bed and he could feel the sun's light shining in through his window. The bright rays were piercing through his tightly shut eyes, and he groaned, squinting. It was a Tuesday morning and he had class in about an hour, but despite the continuous beeping, he only rolled over, prepared to go back to sleep and skip class. His comforter was practically begging him to just stay in today. Along with his awful headache, it seemed like reason enough to ditch for one day. Part of him wanted an aspirin, but sleep felt more important. He shifted uncomfortably as his bare skin rubbed against the sheets. Somewhere in his mind he was vaguely aware he was naked, but the situation didn’t quite click into place until he felt an extra pair of arms wrap around his from behind. The warmth of another person pressed up against his back, and he rolled over, coming face to face with a smiling duel haired man. his eyes opened in surprise, and he began to speak, only to find the words caught in his throat.

“Morning sunshine.” The boy muttered, trying to lean in for a kiss, but was instead met with Izuku’s hand pressed tightly between their lips. Even this early in the morning Shoto still looked stunning, but that wasn’t quite what was on his mind.

“Did we… again?” When he had invited Shoto over, he had sworn to himself wouldn’t get high enough to sleep with him, but it seemed his self control was more of a figment of his imagination. It hadn’t been too long since the two of them broke up, but it felt way too soon to be considering getting back with his Ex.

In response to his question Shoto only laughed. “You really can’t hold your liquor Izu.”

“We were drinking?!” The man was a known lightweight, which was why he rarely drank, especially in combination with weed. For the life of him he couldn’t piece together what happened last night, but here he was, for the second time that month, laying naked in bed with a guy he had sworn not to see again. Maybe he had slipped something into his drink. Izuku tried to move out of Shoto’s arms and sit up, but was immediately pulled back down into a tight hug.

“Come on. Don’t be like that. You were so nice to me last night” He planted small kisses along his collar bone.

“I was nice because you got me drinking until I forgot what a dick you are.” He snarled, pushing him off. Izuku rolled out of bed, dragging one of the blankets with his as a robe. Their clothes were scattered across the room, and no matter where he looked he couldn’t seem to find his boxers.

“They’re s on the couch.” Shoto turned over on the bed, Obviously not planning on leaving his apartment anytime soon. What worried Izuku more is that he was probably going to have to wash the entire living room. With his luck they probably hadn’t gone for only one round. He grabbed a pair of booty shorts out of his dresser and pulled them on, throwing a thin white T over top. It was way too early for this shit. His head was pounding and everything felt very bright and harsh. Just how much did he drink? He was trying to act nonchalant, but he had a really bad feeling in his gut. Even if he hadn’t been in his right mind, he felt like he was leading Shoto on. Izuku knew he didn’t plan on getting back together with him, so doing this made him feel dirty. He never used to do one night stands, but the more time he spent around friends, the more time he woke up in situations like this. his friends were his Ex’s friends which meant they were all trying to push the two of them back together. Even now, he was sure that they had all purposefully ditched the party last night just to give them some time together. Those bastards.

Still feeling incredibly tired, he walked drearily into the kitchen, bumping into the counter on his way to the coffee pot. With a hangover like this he was going to start with a minimum of three mugs and an aspirin. He popped the last instant brew cup into its place and added water before pressing start. He could have just stood there and watched, but he felt the overwhelming need to brush his teeth, so he made his way down the hall to the bathroom, and was met with a very unseemly sight. He looked like a total wreck. His makeup from the day before streaked down his face and his green dyed hair was an absolute mess. He looked like he had just walked out of hell.

He splashed some water onto his hands and slowly massaged a puff of soap into his dry face. It stung his eyes, but he rubbed his skin clean till he was satisfied, and rinsed, wetting his hair in the process. He was in desperate need of a shower anyway , but that would have to wait until after he got an explanation. He felt like his heart was racing faster than it should, and he could see his hands shaking as he opened the cap to the tooth paste. Maybe it was the drugs still working their way out of his system, but he got the feeling he was afraid of the things he might have said the night before. The promises he might have made. Hell, with the way he acted when he was drunk he might walk out this just to be told they were already back together. Part of him longed for that. Wanted to be held again and shown affection. Wanted to taste Shoto on his lips when they-

But the other half of him knew that was impossible. He had already had his heart broken once, and he didn’t know if he had it in his to go through that again. Shoto was the one who had got him started on pot in the first place when they were back in high school. Izuku was stressed and anxious, and had been easily convinced it was just a way to “chill out”. His relationship quickly went from best friend, to dealer and customer, and when he didn’t have the money for weed, he would pay with... favors. This continued into college, but soon he was able to make other friends who hooked him up and he became a resident stoner. Weekends, parties, and now apparently Monday nights, he would get togethers to get lit. Everyone seemed to like him and he got invited out a lot. He was just a typical college kid with some extra problems.

Somewhere along the way his favors for Shoto got more and more serious, until he just asked him out. Izuku had probably mistaken what they had for love and immediately said yes. They would fight, make up, have sex, and pretend like none of it happened. Maybe he could have realized earlier that something was off, but the blonde just had a way of doing things that always brought him back. Like after a long day of work he would sneak the two of them onto their apartment buildings roof, and they would spend the night in each other's arms, just watching the stars and talking about nothing. When they did finally break up it was because Shoto had cheated. Behind Izuku’s back there had been a girl named Momo who seemed to be nothing more than eye candy, but had taken up his time nonetheless. When he found out what was going on he had been devastated. After a long fight that lasted days of on and off screaming, they decided it would be best to just part ways. To Izuku it had been the end, but Shoto seemed to think they were just on some kind of break.

Swishing water around in his mouth, the greenette spit out the last of the minty paste and left from the bathroom. He could hear his Ex getting dressed in the bedroom as well as the beep of the coffee machine, signalling that the pot was done brewing.

Once he had poured himself a mug, he couldn’t be bothered to add creamer and just decided to drink it black. he didn’t have the patience to search all around his kitchen for whatever ridiculous spot his friends had left his milk and sweeteners. He had only just taken a sip of his steaming drink when Shoto walked in wearing one of Izuku’s hoodies, and prosmuidly nothing underneath. He slowly tried to approach him, but every step forward warranted two steps back.

“Are you serious Izuku? We’re not five. You can’t just back away from your problems.” He moved closer. “We still have something. We always did. I already apologized didn’t I?” His voice almost sounded sincere, but there was a layer of malice dripping behind every word. This was one of his tactics. Say sweet words laced with just enough poison to scare his into submission. But he had grown too much since their breakup to fall prey to his lies once again. He never wanted to go back to being Shoto’s plaything.

“You cheated on me with some bitch you met on tinder. You lost me the day you started sleeping around behind my back.” He knew he must have a dark glare on his face, and he hoped it got his point across. He wanted him out immediately. “I’ll show you to the door .” He tried his best to sound warm, but it was clear that he was about ready to lose it. He wasn't sure why he was so angry, but a swarm of memories was clouding his mind and he felt as though he was on the verge of tears. If Shoto stayed any longer he might collapse and give in again.

“Can I at least take a shower before I leave?” It was so clear this was not a question but a demand, but Izuku was not having it. With no words left to say, he simply grabbed a jacket from the front closet, shoved it at Shoto and pushed him out the front door. He honestly couldn’t care if it was winter, and that he was wearing barely anything, but his new house was close enough for him to not have to worry. And Even if it wasn’t, why should he care? The man was no longer his problem.

Once he was alone in his apartment he immediately collapsed down onto his bed, wondering why he had let this happen to himself. His first class started in close to 30 minutes, but he definitely did not feel like going. He would write his professor an email saying he got sick and hope that he didn’t think his getting sick for the 13th time that semester was strange. He probably hated him, but it was just a general language class. He had dropped English in high school and now had to retake it at 9:30 in the morning every Tuesday and Thursday.

Despite having taken a bath the night before, Izuku felt filthy. His skin was crawling and he wished he could run away any memories that might resurface the night before. Before he tried to figure out anything for the day a shower was in order. He once again pulled himself from bed and picked up his phone from the nightstand. He had been in such a daze last night that he hadn’t even plugged his phone in and it was now at a dwindling 13%. he connected it to his charger, not even bothering to look at his string of notifications. Who ever needed his could wait until after he was clean.

He had just put his clothes on, but easily dropped them to the floor and carefully made his way to the shower. There were red solo cups littered around his living room, and the whole place wreaked of drugs and sex. This is why he never let people party at his house. He was surprised to not find puke in the bathroom, but at least that would be one less thing for him to clean up. He clicked the water on and stepped into its spray, not waiting for it to warm up. It felt so good to have the cold droplets covering his back and dripping through his hair.

As the water heated up he felt like his problems melted away. Thoughts of past love, lust and affection, the after taste of drugs. They slipped down the drain with all of the sweat from the night before. When his and Shoto had broken up he had replaced all of his soaps so that the house would stop smelling like him. So he would stop smelling like him. Now all of his senses were filled with the smell of white chocolate and strawberries. It was the same body wash that he had used in middle school before all of his problems had come barreling head first into his life. It reminded him of his mother, Inko. The soap had originally been hers, But Izuku had stolen it and didn’t change the scent he used for years. He had only switched it in highschool when his friends told him that he should switch to a brand that was better for the environment.

As he stood in the shower, he could feel his legs lightly quivering and he had to steady himself against the shower bar. It hadn’t been immediate, but the effects of an eventful night were finally hitting him. He relentlessly scrubbed hisself, wishing he could magically erase himself from existence. The worst part of all of this was he already didn’t want to be sober anymore. He had made a catastrophic mistake under the influence, but he knew he could forget if he just let himself go a little. Being addicted to something was incredibly annoying. As long as he could guarantee Shoto wouldn’t be there, he would probably call up his friends and ask them to come over later that night.

When he washed his hair, streaks of green hair dye bled down his arms and torso, drizzling down the drain like a sad stream of sludge. The bright color was fading and it was close to time to redye it. Those were a multitude of colors he could go for, but he always found himself dying it green to match his eyes. At the very least he was on brand.

With the last bits of soap leaving his body, he cut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Water dripped off of his onto the floor mat and he rang his hair out with a towel, not letting the moisture cling to his roots. The entire room was filled with steam and he couldn’t see himself in the mirror, but it was safe to say he felt vastly better. Whatever had happened was in the past and all he could do now was move on with his day. Maybe he could call up his friend Uraraka and they could watch movies instead of doing their work on campus. She was kind of an idiot, but She always managed to make him feel better.

Izuku wrapped the towel around himself and opened the bathroom door, letting out a ploom of smoke. The rest of his apartment was cold and he instantly regretted leaving the warm confines of the shower. He quickly ran to his bedroom and found a comfortable sweater and a pair of sweatpants. The two clothing items didn’t match at all, but who was going to see him? He might as well have put on some fuzzy socks too. Once he was bundled in warm clothing he reached for his phone and began to scroll through his alerts.

Those were tons of messages from his friends apologizing and checking in on him, an email from his boss, even a message from one of his close classmates asking if he was coming in today. He checked the email first, worried he might have forgotten about a shift. He worked at a fast food chicken hut, and he had thought he didn't have work until tomorrow, but with the way his day was going he was better safe than sorry. He skimmed it quickly, only noticing the key details. To his relief it was just notifying him of what hours he would be working so he wouldn’t be late...again. His boss liked him because he did his work while on shift, but he wasn’t the most reliable when it came to actually showing up on time. He usually did the four to nine shift but tomorrow he was working overnight.

His last notification was from Uraraka . She used a long string of emojis to accompany a message apologizing for leaving him alone last night. She seemed genuinely upset and said that Iida had dragged her out before she had even realized what was happening. Both Uraraka and Iida were Graphic design majors and lived together on campus. There was a good chance the two of them were dating, but Izuku never pressed the subject. He decided he might as well message her just to see if she wanted to come over. She most likely wouldn’t respond, but it was worth a shot. His fingers flicked across his keyboard and he sent him a simple text that got his point across.

‘Come over. I’ll get snacks and a movie. Just bring something… strong. Makeup for leaving me alone last night by giving me something to forget about Shoto.’ he knew he would regret saying this even as he typed the words, but he longed for an escape. Not only just from his Ex, but more from his situation. Somewhere deep within himself, Izuku felt like he was missing something. Like he didn’t belong. It was as if he was yearning for a place he had never been, whose he would finally feel whole. That “place” certainly wasn’t his one bedroom apartment.

Izuku decided it was worthwhile to put some concealer on, so as not to look like a total wreck for his friends. He didn’t care much about his appearance, but at the very least he wanted to cover up the redness of his tired eyes. His head still throbed from the past nights drinking, and every time he would turn his head too fast clusters of black dots would cloud his vision. Sighing heavily, he let himself fall back against his pillow, deciding he would just take a short nap until someone responded. He had no idea how late he had been up yesterday, but he could feel his fatigue dripping from him. Not even bothering to cover himself with the comforter, he rolled over, burying his face into the warmth of his cotton heat.

~~~

A ding on Izuku’s phone stared him from his sleep. He had his ringer all the way up, and the loud beep echoed through his room. Groaning, he turned over grabbing his phone from his night stand. It was later in the evening now, nearly Five o’clock, and the sun was no longer at its peak in the sky. Among other notifications, he had a message from Uraraka.

‘I’m in class, but I’ll be over in a bit. I get out at 4 so close to then.’

Four? It was an hour past then. Izuku sat up in bed, worried that he had missed her. He would feel so stupid if she had actually shown up only for his to fall asleep. Just as he began to worry, he heard quiet talking coming from the living room. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but it sounded like the TV was playing, as well as small laughs that bounced around the apartment. He sat up, clutching his head and stumbled out of his bedroom. Sitting thoughtlessly on his couch was Uraraka, watching his TV as if it was her own house. She had her feet kicked up on his coffee table and her school bag was sitting next to her. She had clearly come straight from class. He certainly hadn’t been quiet when he barged into the room, and she looked up from where she was sitting and looked at him as if he was the one who seemed out of place. She had a smug grin, and he was sure he must look ridiculous from sleeping on his face.

“The front door was open so I invited myself in.” She said nonchalantly, leaning her head backwards on the couch to stare at him. He definitely should have warned her-

“I wouldn't sit thise if I was you. Pretty sure I had sex there last night.” He said, sighing. Normally it would have been funny to see the look of utter disgust on Uraraka's face, but he was still feeling guilty about what happened. The brunette quickly leapt up from the couch, shaking herself off as if he had gotten an STD just from sitting there. He looked at her with regret at having spent the last hour laying down on the sofa. As bad as his mood was, it did brighten him a little bit to see the idiot running around trying to whip the cooties off of herself. Slowly his frown turned up and he began to laugh, walking forward and throwing a clean blanket over the cushions and taking a seat himself. “Honestly I don’t really remember what happened last night, but Shoto did say some cryptic things about the living room.” He said, giggling at Uraraka’s reaction.

After a few more minutes of flailing and laughing, she finally sat down, smiling brightly. She was glad to see that he wasn’t an absolute wreck. When Izuku did things he regretted, he tended to be a mess for days. She had been especially worried today when he asked for hard drugs. He rarely did anything more than pot, so he knew he must be really upset.

“You promised snacks, but I have yet to see any food.” She commented, gesturing dramatically around the room that was still covered in trash. Izuku wished he had had the chance to clean before she had come over, but to be fair, he wasn’t even awake by the time she arrived.

“I swear you only ever come over for my food.” he muttered, standing back up and walking over to the cupboards. He almost expected them to be completely empty, but to his surprise those were still a few bags of chips amongst the others food. Maybe his friends had just missed them the night they were over, or maybe this was their way of apologizing for leaving him with Shoto. Either way at least this was food left to offer in return for whatever Uraraka had brought over. He grabbed some ruffles and what was left of the takis and threw them down in front of Uraraka. “This is the best I can offer, so eat up.” He slumped down next to her and sighed. He already felt better being in the company of one of his friends.

Uraraka immediately opened up the bag and began to scarff down the food as if it was the last meal she would ever eat. If she kept up like that she would probably end up puking on him. While she made quick work of the chips, he snatched his backpack and began to dig around, looking for whatever he could to calm his racing mind. Being in Uraraka’s presence was nice, but he needed something a little… stronger. Her mess of a bag had crumbled up papers, day old food wrappers and a variety of notebooks. Her computer was the one clean looking thing in the whole black hole, and he definitely didn't see any drugs. She had flaked out on him. Shit. He dropped it to the floor and let his head fall back, looking straight at the ceiling. It was stupid feeling so dissapointed over something like this. Asking his friends for drugs definitely wasn’t a healthy way to cope with whatever this was, but at some point in his life it was like he had just given up. Given up on being a good son, on his school work, on making something out of his life.

When he was a kid his mother would tell his that he was his brightest star and that he just needed to find his home. He thought he had found it with his Ex, but all he had come out with was addiction and depression. He had become so codependent with him, that the last couple months alone had felt like hell. Everyday he almost gave in and unblocked his number, just wanting to be able to have someone to lean back on, but his mothiss words stuck with him. As much as his kind touches and loving whisper would sing him into his sweet fantasies, it was hard to look past all of the time he would get mad or violent. He was so good with his words, and he used them as a weapon, bleeding Izuku of his indiscretions. It was hard to win a battle against someone who knew your everything. Shoto was his weakness and it was easy to exploit that.

Truth be told he would kill to just be able to sit down and talk to his mother, but he hadn’t seen her in person in over two years. It wasn’t that they hadn’t been close, but when he moved out his mother had moved to Europe. She never came back to visit, and Izuku never asked. If he called her right now and really wanted her to come home, he knew she would catch the first flight back, but he never said anything. Inko had had Izuku when she was only 19 and he had always felt guilty for taking away the prime of her life. His mother never showed it, but he had the feeling that she was missing something. This was always this longing look on her face, especially after his father died.

He barely remembered his dad, but everyone who knew him talked fondly of him. Inko always said that they were deeply in love and that she wouldn’t give up the time they had for the world. After he had passed away he said she felt very distant living at home. That’s why after Izuku had moved out for college she had gone to England.

He only realized he had been spacing out when he looked up to see Uraraka pulling a small gum tin from her pocket. “You looked so zoned out just now I thought you might already be buzzed” She said jokingly, sliding the lid off the container. Inside was a small pile of white paper strips with hearts on them. That was definitely stronger than weed.

He had only taken LSD once before and had a rough trip that felt like it lasted forever. his friends assured him it was only around seven hours, but it had felt like days. He had almost walked into a busy street towards the end of it, and hadn’t really tried it since. He wasn’t sure if he really felt like doing this, but at this point he felt bad refusing Uraraka when she had come all this way for him, not to mention she was giving it to him for free. Maybe it was out of obligation or self pity, but he opened his lips, sticking out his tongue and placed a tab in his mouth. It tasted like nothing and disintegrated instantly, leaving him waiting patiently for it to kick in.

He looked over at Uraraka who sighed and smiled at him. “It’s probably going to take at least 30 minutes to kick in. We should probably just settle in with a movie.” Without waiting for confirmation he grabbed a remote off the table and clicked on the tv. After a bit of scrolling through netflix they settled on the ring, a safe choice.

G

Izuku had settled into the couch and was deep into the movie when he thought he heard someone whispering behind his back. It almost sounded like the wind whistling in his head and it made his skin tingle. He ignored it at first, playing it off as his imagination but the words seemed to come closer, until they were right in his ear, mumbling nonsense he couldn’t make out. He whipped his head around, looking for the source, but was only meant with the empty apartment. He looked over to Uraraka to see if she was experiencing the same thing, but for some reason only half of her was sitting on the couch. From her waist down was right where she was supposed to be but the rest of her was nowhere in sight. This should have been alarming, but instead he found himself giggling, covering his mouth with his hand so Uraraka’s legs wouldn’t get mad at him. The closer he looked the funnier it became to him, and soon he was breaking out into a fit of laughter.

As he laughed he could see the sounds tumbling out of his mouth in bright colors that painted the whole room into a rainbow. All of the hues seemed to seep together into a psychedelic collage. He slowly stood, trying to gasp them between his fingers, only to stumble over, nearly face planting into the beer stained carpet. As he stared at it the ground seemed to boil and pop beneath his. He felt a pair of arms wrapped around his hoisting his back to his feet. He turned his head, to come face to face with Uraraka, who was back to being a whole person.

“I found the rest of you!” he said with triumph, a bubbly laugh erupting from his. Izuku could see her lips moving, but couldn’t hear any of the words she was saying as she slowly set him back down on the couch. He was about to protest and stand again, when small black dots began to spot his vision. He blinked a few times, trying to get them to disappear, but they only seemed to grow, slowly clouding his vision.

He looked around for Uraraka, wanting to ask for help, but she was nowhere in sight. He began to shake his head violently, not understanding what was happening, but everything kept getting darker and darker. He was vaguely aware he was screaming, but he couldn’t seem to hear the sound. His throat began to get soar and he felt like he couldn’t breath. He began to take deep gulps of air, but it only made him more dizzy. Just as the last of his sight blacked out, he felt himself falling backwards, losing his strain of consciousness and collapsing into sleep

[papergirllife]

Chasing The Flames

Chapter 8 : The Pull of The Heartstrings

Jeno opened the door of his dorm to hear all the boys gathered around the living room, hollering like they won the lotto.

" What's with you guys? "

" We're happy for you, hyung. "

" For what, Chenle? "

" You just came back from the photoshoot with Y/N. There should be some progress. " Renjun questioned with curious eyes.

" Not telling. "

" Yah, stop being so secretive to us. "

" I'm respecting Y/N's privacy Haechan, something you would never do for us. "

But Jeno couldn't help but smile at the events that taken place today as he retreated back into his room.

As he finished showered, Renjun came in the room with a smirk on his face.

" You and Jaemin should be grateful to me. I invited Y/N to have a cook off with Chenle and I on Friday night. "

" She agreed to come? "

" Yup. You guys get to spend more time with her as long as the both of you help out for dinner, this is a win-win situation."

" Thanks man. "

" You guys better be serious about Y/N. She's a nice girl. "

" Yes, boss. "

" I'm actually surprised you're so into her. I thought Jaemin was the one that wanted to bring her into the relationship. "

" I was actually jealous of her at first, because of the attention she was receiving from Jaemin. But then after I spent some time with her that day, I realised that she's really a special one. "

" I don't know much about polyamorous relationships, but I'll still support the decisions that the both of you make. "

" Thanks, Renjun. "

Jaemin ordered a pizza for the both of them to share as Jeno got back later than their dinner time.

They were watching a movie on TV, the others being focused on the plot, but Jeno being lost in his thoughts.

" Is something wrong? " Jaemin whispered.

" No. I was just thinking about what happened today. "

Jaemin snuggled up to Jeno, while taking a huge bite into the pizza, making Jeno coo at him.

" Is there something about Y/N's that's bothering you? "

" No. I enjoyed every moment with her. "

" Then why do you look sad? "

" I'm just confused with my own feelings. How can we love each other but still potentially love another person ?"

" Maybe it's because we never dated any girls before. So we crave for one in our life. "

" But we've never shown interest in other girls. Why Y/N? Why did you like Y/N among all female friends and colleagues we know? "

" I don't know. My first impression of her was that she was a diligent assistant of Mr Kang. Then when we started talking to her, I was hooked on by her shy demeanor. Then I realised that she had a great personality, she's friendly and quirky and so easy to be around. She doesn't treat us like idols, she sees us as human beings. Whenever I'm with her, I feel a sense of freedom or escape."

Jeno nodded at what Jaemin said, connecting the way Jaemin described Y/N to recent events.

" After Y/N, we won't be adding new members into the relationship, right? "

This made Jaemin laugh and nearly choke on his piece of pizza.

" Jeno ah, let's just focus on getting one girl at a time. Plus, if Y/N accepts us, I don't think she'll accept another female in the relationship. Just because we're bisexuals, doesn't mean she is. "

" I'm just checking, because I definitely won't have time for three people. "

" Good to know that my Jeno is a loyal man."

" Chenle, how many times have I told you to get that thing out of the way? "

" What do you mean that thing? It's my sole physical entertainment other than video games. "

Jeno was being stressed about Y/ N coming over for dinner.

On the other hand, Jaemin was busy cleaning the kitchen from the mess Jisung had made from his midnight snack.

Jaemin although didn't show his nervousness as Jeno is, still feels the stress of the expectations he wishes to make for Y/N.

Although all the guys think that Y/N's quite smitten with the both of them after hours debate of what they had experienced from both their alone time with Y/N, Jaemin still wants to take things slowly and start off as good friends.

Y/N seems raw towards the feelings that they think she's feeling for them, so Jaemin and Jeno have decided to make only minor advances and let her sort out her feelings, if she does have feelings for them.

' I hope she does. ' Jaemin thoughts to himself.

Jaemin looked towards Jeno's direction and saw that Jeno's disassembling Chenle's indoor basketball court, dumping it back into its box.

After finishing up with the kitchen, Jaemin checks the fridge a second time to make sure that they had stocked up on groceries for tonight.

Jaemin was about to clear away the take out on the dining table when Renjun stopped him.

" I'll do it. Go take a shower and get dressed."

" Thanks. "

When Jaemin got out of the bath, Renjun pushed Jeno to wash up.

" Shouldn't I shower after cooking dinner? "

" You have to smell and look clean for

Y/N, you can just take another one layer in the night. "

" Any clothing advice, Injunie? "

" She thinks you look cute in pink. "

" You're the best. I can kiss you right now. "

" Save that for Jeno and Y/N, or I'll kick your butt. "

" How do you get so much information out of her? "

" Because we text often. "

" Oh. "

" Why? Are you jealous? "

" I'm just surprised. "

" She's from my home country, she says I remind her of home. "

" That's nice of you. "

" She doesn't have many friends, she reminded me of the time when I first got here. "

" I'll go check the whole place again. "

" Don't be so nervous. "

" I'll try. "

When I got there, Jaemin was waiting for me outside the dorms.

" You didn't have to wait outside for me, it's cold, you would've gotten sick if I wasn't early. "

" I know you're punctual. Plus, it'll be embarrassing if you went to the 127 and WayV's blocks. "

" God, I can't imagine. "

" Why did you bring groceries? "

" Just in case you guys don't have any. "

" Of course we do, we just bought today. I'll help you take those. "

When Jaemin grabs the bags from my hands, I could feel electric shocks up my fingertips, making my cheeks warm in the cold air.

" Thank you. "

When Jaemin opened the door, the first one to greet you was Donghyuck.

" Long time no see, Y/N. Hope you didn't miss me too much, 127 needs me. "

" There's not a day that goes by I don't hear bullshit coming from his mouth. "

" I thought you'd be used to it by now. "

" Yeah, but I thought he would've behaved more with guest around. "

" What are you saying? Y/N isn't a guest, she's like family. Right Y/N? "

" Whatever you say, Hyuck. It's good to see you. "

" Nice place you guys got here, I like the kitchen too. It's bigger than the one I have. "

" You can always move in, Y/N. "

" Yeah right, Lee Soo Man would be on my ass. "

" Chenle! You look so cute with those cat ears. "

" Don't mind them, I lost a bet to Jisung. Come check out this gun I won in pubg."

Jeno walked out of his room when he heard the commotion going on outside, beckoning Renjun to follow.

" Y/N, you're here. Then let's get this started."

We gathered at the kitchen to get ready for the mini cook off.

" Okay, who wants to be in my team? " Renjun looked at everyone expectantly, but had a shock when he realised no one wanted to be on his team.

" I'm picking Chenle and Hyuck. Y/N, you can take Jeno and Jaemin. "

" Hyung, that's not fair. Both your teammates cook often. But Jeno doesn't cook at all, Y/N noona's team is having the losing end. "

" Jisung you are the judge, so go to your room and play games while we cook, no peeking. "

Renjun was giving Jisung the stink eye while everyone of us laughed at their interaction.

" Okay, so what are we cooking? "

" I was planning on cooking sweet and sour pork cutlets and salty egg minced meat steam egg. Sounds good?"

Jeno and Jaemin nodded enthusiastically, hurrying to gather the ingredients as I listed them down.

" Wait, what's salted egg? I don't think we have that in the fridge. "

" Don't worry, Jeno. I bought them at the wet market today, it's in the bag. "

" Got it. "

I made the batter for the cutlets as they break the eggs into a bowl with the minced meat.

" Jaemin, stir this batter. I'll handle the egg. "

I broke two salted eggs and cut the pieces of the yolk into tinier pieces and put them into the bowl of egg, stirring it to space out the ingredients.

When it was ready, I began to steam the egg at the stove.

" Remember Y/N. One stove per team. "

Renjun was looking at me with a smug look on his face as he oversees the two of his friends cooking.

" I see you're making Korean food. "

" And you're making Chinese food. What a way to win Jisung's stomach, but I'm confident he'll love my cooking, he always did. "

" That's because he never ate my cooking before. "

" Oh it's on Y/N. "

The both both of us went back to our respective sides.

Cooking with Jaemin and Jeno was fun, the way Jaemin laughed at Jeno for trying to get the pork to stick to the batter.

I stepped away from my teammates to take a photo of both of them frying the cutlets.

' They suite the domestic theme that's going on here. '

Wait, what am I thinking? God, I need to focus on making the sauce or I'll lose to Renjun.

When we were done, Renjun was arguing about something with Hyuck. While Chenle was coping on cooking alone.

It was one of the funniest sights ever.

Jaemin, being the observant person he was, realised that we haven't cooked the rice.

" Need help? "

" It's just rice, I can handle myself. Go rest on the sofa with Jeno, be with you guys in a bit. "

When I got to the sofa, Jeno had took off his apron to reveal a tight fitting white t shirt.

His muscular built was evident under the thin layer of cotton, I never realised Jeno had such a good built, it was truly a sight to behold.

" I really like your new glasses. "

I had to bring up a topic to distract from Jeno, he's Jaemin's boyfriend for fuck's sake.

" Thanks. You look nice too. "

" It's just a sweater, nothing nice about it to me. "

" The mint colour, it matches well with your hair colour. "

" Thank you. "

I looked away from his gaze, scared that my cheeks were as red as I feared.

" Y/N? "

I looked back at Jeno to see that he was holding a box of chocolates.

" This is for you. As a thank you for cooking dinner. "

" Thank you, I didn't know I'll be receiving any gifts from anyone in Korea. Thank you so much. "

Even though it was just a box of chocolates, it made me happy. I don't have any other friends other than my boss, these guys mean so much to me.

" I'm glad you liked it. "

Jeno placed his hand on my knee as a friendly gesture, but my body acted as if it was the best feeling ever.

The warmth coming from his palm was addicting.

My thoughts were interrupted when Renjun announced that dinner was ready and hollered Jisung out from his room.

We ate dinner with a carefree chatter. I asked Donghyuck about him and Mark balancing the upcoming promotions and them expressing their excitement in working with me again.

" So Jisung, what do you think are the best dishes here? "

" The dishes that I've never ate before today. "

" Have kids they said, they'll be lovely they said. "

" Oh come on, hyung. Don't be too sad about losing to Y/N, Jisung always liked new things. "

" Let me introduce you to some thangs. "

Jeno shut Chenle up with a slice of beef within the second he finished the verse of 127's new song.

" Sorry, he's always been like that. " Jeno said with apologetic eyes.

" Don't worry, Hyuck told me everything about Chenle's crush on Taeyong. "

" Everyone has a crush on Taeyong hyung, ask Jisung. "

" The both of you are weird, case closed."

After dinner, we decided to watch a movie.

Hyuck and Chenle settled on some horror movie called Polaroid.

All of us were wedged on the sofa except for Chenle and Jisung who settled for sitting on the carpeted floor.

I was happily munching on my oreos when a sudden jump scare caught me off guard.

I basically jumped into Jaemin's lap when it happened.

" Sorry, I didn't mean to do that. "

" It's okay. It's called horror for a reason. "

He put his arm around my shoulders.

" There's nothing to be scared of with me around. "

Even though he meant that to be flirty, it still warmed my heart.

From then on, my attention was no longer fully on the movie in front of me. I started noticing little details of Jaemin tonight.

The way his pink sweater matches so well with his fair skin and the feeling of his broad shoulders whenever I leaned onto them.

The scent of Jaemin's cotton fragrance reminded me of waking up on my comfy bed, everything about Jaemin tonight makes my heart soft.

I barely noticed that the movie ended as Renjun announced that we were going to watch a drama that he wanted to watch for a long time.

I always got sleepy during dramas as they just aren't my genre of movies, and this time was no exception.

The only difference from this time and all the other times was the warmth and support I had beside me as I dozed off to slumber.

[lovesick-panmess]

God I just had to write this, lemme actually start before I lose motivation- sorry if it's shit, I'm exhausted

Roman and Virgil did not judge Logan for alot of things, they more so would say that they worried if anything. Like his concerning habit of inhaling an entire jar of Crofters at 3 am with steaming coffee to the side like it's breakfast with the lights off just to hiss at Virgil like a cat guarding itself. Virgil would later deny having any nightmares of this event but couldn't hold back the shiver that consumed him every time he saw that blasted jar. For Roman it was nagging at Logan into self care days with Janus involved, having to remind the most logical of the group that rest and care was important to improve mental and physical health. With some pushing and a few blackmail pictures of Logan drooling on his assignments, somehow by Roman standards he was still photogenic as ever, he maintained a less self-destructive schedule throughly his college with out a single photo being leaked.

So it was safe to say that his friends were never to judge him mostly when some how the one with a brain cell had become feral and lopsided. It was Logan, the same guy who explained through PowerPoint to Roman and Virgil on why they should have more than just a candle in their apartment and somehow exceeding the criteria of 6 slides in the process. Never in the group's wildest imagination that he would be the first one to have a kid. A baby actually. Though to try and say that Logan was all brains and no heart would be a foolish errand.

Everyone knew how Patton came to be, almost mystically dropped off by the side of the road, crying and fussing as his little hands seemed to reach out in hopes of finding comfort only to get the cold, brisk air of that January morning. Immediately calling for help while Logan focused on keeping the baby warm under the warm wool sweater, ignoring the unconscious instinct to coo and the visible red coating the chubby cheeks buried in his chest. It would have been a heartwarming sight if it wasn't so worrying. Virgil airing out his anxieties of where his parents were or what could have happened if the baby had stopped crying with Roman trying to rub his shoulder comforting and keep him from the brink of a panic attack. Janus was on the phone with 911 while Remus was relatively calm and trying to keep the baby wake with noises, enjoying the alertness that kept the situation so mellow but all the more sad.

It would be months later, no legal guardian found and Logan's vast knowledge of the corrupt system that was adoption, it didnt take long for Virgil to confront him while looking at his signature in the bottom to be Patton's legal guardian. His hands shaking but with no regret he turned to his friends, "I just can't leave him.." It quivered with an surprising amount of emotion more than his hands could show, Remus being the one to take his hand and squeeze it to allow comfort to flow through him. "Then don't, Bookdick."

The sudden reminiscent memory made Virgil blink, rubbing his eyes as if he had been taking a long nap just to remember why he thought about how this all started in the first place. The new father was reading outloud one of his student's assignments, skillfully undisturbed by Patton's gurgles and small trailing of spit though his eyes seemed surprisingly aware and stayed on Logan. "Well what do you think Patton? It would seem that Alyssa's argument had been built on lengthy descriptions of philosophical advancements." Again gurgling with the mix of wet clapping flowed, he swirled a bit in his chair to avoid the flying specks of saliva from hitting the paper in his hand, still nodding as if Patton had brought up a noteworthy point. "Yes, I suppose that does make sense though it could weaken her argument." Roman was uncharismatic in trying to stifle his laughter, whether it was at what they were watching or Virgil's own horrifed expression, it was hard to tell.

"You laugh now, but when Patton started insulting your intelligence as a three-year old and has better cognitive skills than you wish you could, don't cry to me." Logan spoke, not looking at the duo as he continued working through the papers. Asking for Patton's advise while gently pulling the pen from his tight grip and ignoring Roman's offended noises. Virgil simply shakes his head, glad that after all these months Logan was still himself with a baby in tow and his own kooky parental guide. Maybe with luck Virgil would be able to stop the Crofters obsession from taking root. His arms hanging off of Logan's shoulder and sheepishly hiding his face into the other's hair, "I'm proud of you Loagn, seriously." The soft gasp from the teacher's lips were memorable as was the babbling in agreement making his heart twist and tighten before releasing itself with a deep breath, "Thank you."

An adorable thought I've had concerning single Dad! Logan and baby! Patton while reading up on child language acquisition:

Logan reading that stereotypical "baby-talk" is bad for children's development and resolving never to use it.

He probably wouldn't have anyway, he thinks it's condescending and considers his son to be way too smart for that sort of thing, but it's always good to have scientific evidence.

So Logan talks to Patton (who is an Actual Baby) the same way he would address any of his adult friends or colleagues and always answers him like he's talking back.

Logan: *reading a newspaper while Patton's sitting in his lap being A Baby* Hmm, Patton, what do you make of all this?

Patton: *Staring up at Logan like he's just seen the sun for the first time* a-da.

Logan: *trying hard not to smile/ start crying* That's...a very interesting position, I hasn't considered that before, thank you.

Patton: *Sticks Logan's tie in his mouth*

Better yet, grocery shopping:

Logan: *looking very seriously down at Patton in the trolley* Now that you are of an age to start eating solids, it is vital for us to foster healthy eating habits.

Patton: *looks back as seriously as he is able, while also chewing on a tiny frog plushie*

Logan: Yes, I know it's disagreeable, but some things must be done, I'm afraid. From now on we will only be stocking nutritious, sugar free snacks in the kitchen. That is what I've decided.

Patton: a-bleh

Logan: Oh, alright fine. I suppose it wouldn't hurt for us to pick up a couple of jars of Crofters. If you insist.

Patton: *starts giggling, kicking his tiny legs in the trolley happily*

Logan: *while physically restraining himself showing his child with kisses and affection in the middle of the store.* Mind your legs please, Patton. Yes I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get some cookies as well. As long as you promise to eat your vegetables first.

Just...Logan raising Patton man, there's no many adorable scenarios in my head.

Logan reads to Patton out of scientific journals and things because he's trying to get him interested in the subject at an early age.

Logan having to get one of those baby carriers that you strap to your chest just so he can get things done throughout the day because Patton wants to be carried all the time.

And once Patton actually does learn how to talk, Logan has an impossible time saying no to anything.

Patton consistently asking random "why" questions and Logan is never, ever, ever too busy to answer. Or even if he is, or if he doesn't know he'll be like "That's an interesting query, let me get back to you on that" and then he does actual research.

Logan, like most parents, fully unironically believes Patton is totally an undiscovered genius.