#but my appetite is returning again and these hunger pangs are so annoying

[soft-twink]

I think I’m finally starting to feel normal 😭

My hunger has been more intense since I returned to the gym and started a new exercise routine. Normal meals haven’t felt like enough lately. I’m literally going to bed feeling peckish because my large serving of mac and cheese for dinner and the bit of chocolate I had as a treat didn’t satiate me.

We are so back 😤

[justsome-di]

Nobody Ends Up Dead in a Bathtub, Everyone Keeps Their Organs: Chapter 10

Summary: Alex is an ordinary, highly-introverted office worker. He clocks in and out and goes home to his little apartment he shares with his younger sister. He hasn’t dated in years. Until his co-workers set him up on a blind date.

The only issue is he and his date are not on the same page. At all.

While Alex thinks it’s a normal date, Damián is under the impression Alex is a client who paid to be there. No-so-quickly, they realize something is up. It’s all a prank. Damián is a sex worker Alex’s co-workers hired as a sick joke.

After reassuring that they’re both okay, Alex decides he wants revenge for both him and Damián. The plan is to use the stigma of sex work and start a 6-week, scandalous fake dating scheme with a big finale at the office Halloween party. Alex’s co-workers will be too horrified to try to prank him again. At least, that’s the plan.

You can also read this on AO3, or Patreon (patrons also get chapters a week early along with bonus content). If you’re enjoying the story and want to support me in other ways, I do have a ko-fi! Or consider dropping me a message in my inbox or reblogging this post!

chapter warnings for eating disorders

Some nights Damián wished he still smoked.

The habit had been comforting. Stepping outside, pulling out a cigarette, cupping his hands around it to light it against the wind. There was routine to it. Whenever he had a bad day, he could always stand on the sidewalk and breathe in the nicotine and tobacco, and it would wash over him like a heavy blanket. It was simple. Easy.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

Stub out ash before his fingers burned.

It always took the edge off his appetite. Whenever hunger pangs were beginning to twist at his insides, he would stand on the stoop of his building and go through cigarettes until his vision lagged when he turned his head, and he could return to his apartment without needing to think about food again for a few more hours.

Christian hated it when they dated. He complained whenever he nuzzled his nose into Damián’s hair and could smell the thick musk of smoke. He refused to stop on their dates so Damián could pick up a new pack, and he would make a point to frown whenever Damián excused him from a room.

But Damián cherished those moments when he stood in the dark, under the single light outside by his apartment's front door. Sometimes he was alone, and he loved the solitude. Sometimes, someone would stand beside him, scrolling through their phone and puffing quickly just to get the buzz going. His neighbor, Danny, would speak to him if he felt like it.

More often than not, Danny didn’t. No matter how often Damián would try to start a conversation, finding joy in annoying the grumpy, older man.

Damián liked sharing cigarettes with clients after appointments. It felt cliche, but he liked that cliche. He liked leaning over, either accepting their flame or flicking it up for them. It was like a bookend to the intimacy. A proper closing.

But he quit smoking years ago. No matter how much he itched to reach for his bedside nightstand now, he knew there wouldn’t be anything to grab. Just a copy of Giovanni’s Room, headphones, and odd pocket change he had no idea where else to scatter.

Damián stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom and thought that he should hang a plant there somewhere. But maybe the ceilings were too high in his apartment. Getting a plant hung up would be one thing but taking care of it would be another. He would have to dust it up there, water it. He would have to climb up to take it down every so often to shower and inspect it.

Still, a spider plant or a pothos would be nice. It would be something to look at rather than dull white paint.

Damián sort of liked being self-destructive. He liked burning up on the inside so intensely and then sizzling out once all of his energy was spent. It was like a sprint.

When his eating thing returned every so often, it was always with some excitement. Some adrenaline. He couldn’t lie to himself. Plans for counting calories and restricting his food always, briefly, gave him something to look forward to. Like he was at the starting line, hands pressed to the hard rubber of the track, legs ready to push himself forward to the finish.

And then, once he settled into the diets, every time, he felt like he lost a part of himself. A stumble. A fall. A roll across the finish line, bruised and skin rubbed raw.

Maybe he’d get lucky someday, and he would be a completely different person.

He didn’t know why he fell into fits of enjoying his self-destruction except he guessed he liked the idea of one day someone coming up to him and, seeing his pain, offering to help.

If he suffered enough that someone noticed, he might feel like he had permission to cry. If someone saw him in pain, then that meant that someone saw him. Someone was seeing him and noticing him, and they cared enough to take him in his arms.

They would see all of him.

They would see him as a mess. They would see all of his flaws.

But it never happened.

When someone did mention it—the fact that he was pushing his food around, that he was claiming a little too often that he had already eaten—he brushed it off. When Leo asked for the second time if he was sure he didn’t want dinner, Damián thought that it wasn’t fair to burden his little brother with his problems. Diego was just a client, and Damián couldn’t break the illusion he paid for.

Danny, across the hall, was all rough edges, and he was never sure what to say, though Damián was certain he noticed his fluctuating weight. A hesitant flick of a cigarette to knock off ash. A long look up and down. But Danny never said anything. 

Christian had his own problems, and the two of them had been caught in a spiral of enabling each other.

Alex—

Alex would be out of his life soon enough. It didn’t matter what Alex thought or did.

Damián hadn’t found the right person to save him yet, apparently.

And he never got so bad that a complete breakdown would demand attention and energy from someone around—something he really wanted. He wanted to absolutely implode on himself so that someone would rush to him and be forced to take him all in.

Once, with Christian, he got close. One particular bad week led to a fight and then their breakup. Christian was so caught up in his own feelings that he didn’t see Damián’s cries for help. He didn’t see that Damián’s sudden moodiness, his need to get a rise out of Christian, was him begging him to stay and work things out and just hold him.

Damián just wanted to be told it would be okay. That a fight had an ending. That he should really try to eat something.

Instead, Christian responded with his own hurt. His own need to be told that things would be okay. His own implosion that was demanding attention that Damián didn’t have.

And Damián guessed that that just happened sometimes. They added fire to one another. They burned bright together. It was inevitable that one day they would consume and engulf everything around them until there was nothing else. 

Damián wished he still smoked. He would kill for a cigarette, the musky smell of burning nicotine. He wanted to choke. He wanted to stand in front of the building and have his and Danny’s ash mix on the ground before they turned back inside, silent.

It would kill the hunger pang gnawing at his insides.

Damián’s phone buzzed against his pillow. He heard it, muffled but strong, through his cheek.

He grabbed it, hoping it would be a text that could distract him from his spiral.

An update is ready. Restart your phone.

He swiped the notification away and returned his eyes to the ceiling. There was no one left, he presumed, to check in on him. And maybe that was his fault. People didn’t flock to forest fires when they refused to stop burning.

A pothos would be nice. Right in the corner of his room. A pothos and a step stool.

[regina-daemonium]

Sleepovers are for Normies.

A snippet from It`s always darkest before the dawn. But this bit can be read as a stand alone piece. Hope you enjoy.

With an annoyed growl, Beelzebub`s eyes snapped open.

The incessant ringing of his D.D.D. rousing him from a most delicious dream; a banquet filled with his favourite food. He had just started stuffing his face full with the biggest and most tastiest Roasted Roc the gluttonous demon had ever laid eyes on.

Rolling over from his stomach, wiping away a drop of saliva from the corner of his mouth, he could feel something tickle inside his mouth.

Sitting up, Beel`s purple eyes narrowed in confusion, staring at the feather he had just plucked from between his teeth. Now, where did that… oh.

  Another of his pillows had fallen victim to his hunger.

  Swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, a pang of sadness filled his eyes, seeing his twin's empty bed. He missed Belphie. He could not even call his brother up, just to hear his voice.

With his twin gone to the human world, it felt like a part of him was missing.

The loss of Belphegor`s presence was even worse than the painful stabs he felt in this gut when he didn't eat on time.

Beels D.D.D rang again, making him jump up from his bed to grab the device. Maybe it was Belphie calling?

Beelzebub's hopeful smile dropped seeing it was one of his other brothers calling instead.

Letting out a sad sigh he swiped the green phone icon to answer. Leviathan agitated voice greeted him;

“Finally... like why did it take you so long to answer me. Y/n has fallen asleep here in my room and you need to come to collect her.”

“Why?” Beels stomach started to rumble, now that he was fully awake again, so was his appetite.

Only half-listening to a tirade of Leviathan going on why he could not let y/n stay in his room, Beel made his way to the kitchen. He really didn't get what the fuss was all about.

When y/n`s bedroom wall was destroyed during the kitchen incident, and he had been ordered by Lucifer to share his and Belphies bedroom with y/n, he had enjoyed having y/n around, especially with Belphegor gone. Y/n had been so kind holding his hand when he had woken up after having another nightmare.

And even though Lucifer had forbidden to talk about his twin, on this rare occasion Beel had gone against Lucifer his orders. It had felt so good to talk about Belphegor, and within that moment, it had hurt a little less.

And though it was nice to have his bed back. The couch wasn't as comfortable as he had made it out to be to y/n so she had not felt guilty for sleeping in his bed. He did miss her company when she had returned to her own room again after the wall was fixed.

As Levi`s voice started amping up to an even higher pitch, the otaku`s mind filled up with all the reasons why it was out of the question that the human slept in his room.

OMD, What would if he did anything embarrassing while he slept. Or y/n cuddled up against him in her sleep. Or what if his demon form slipped out, and then she would wake up of course before him and she be like eew gross. Humans hated snakes right. Or… or….or.

“Beel are you on your way or what?! The avatar of envy's voices almost broke, his anxieties rising high of doing something embarrassing or stupid which would make him end up losing his new best friend.

Ripping a packet of Hell Cream Cat Tongue Cookie open, Beel popped the first cookie in his mouth. “Levi, *crunch* calm *crunch* down, I`m just going to *crunch * *crunch* have a quick snack and then I will be right over OK.”

“Yeah, yeah, It's just that sleepovers are for normies, so you hurry up and come get her... I might... ah just hurry Ok... Please”

Having finished off his fifth packet of cookies, Beel rumbled around in the fridge for another snack. He was planning to drop them off at his room, to nibble on, before collecting y/n and taking the human to her bedroom.

Just when he had loaded his arms full with a good helping of devil bee honey puddings, a scream came over the speaker of his D.D.D. making him drop the whole load on the ground.

Rushing over to Levi`s room Beel had found a very flushed faced Leviathan. His older brothers orange eyes were as huge as saucers, his lip quivering. In his hands, he still held tightly onto his game controller, though awkwardly stretched out, so as not to touch the human currently resting with her head on his lap.

  “S-she was leaning against me and then h-her head started sliding and then she... she ended up on my lap and... and… ” Levi stuttered, the redness of his normally very pale face setting of so prominent against his indigo hair.

“That's why you screamed?! Beel`s eyes flared wide in anger. “You made me drop my devil bee honey puddings! Some of them are now splattered all over the kitchen floor!” he snapped.

Beel would have been in his demon form by now if it wasn't for the way y/n lay curled up sleeping on Levi's lap.

The scene reminded Beel how Belphie would curl up, and use his lap as a pillow. It filled the orange-haired demon up with a pang of longing for his missing twin brother, defusing some of the anger he felt over losing his favourite pudding

“I'm… I`m sorry ok.” Levi stuttered. “I'll go clean it up for you and… and I will order some new ones from Akuzon.” Having Beel go on a rampage in his room, was the last thing Leviathan wanted, the thought of his precious manga's and limited edition collectables getting destroyed made his eyes fill with tears.

  “Hmmpff, ad a black cloud cake too. As payment for making me have to wait now on my puddings,” Beel grumbled while scooping the human up in his arms.

Leviathan breathed a sigh of relief when Beel left with y/n still peacefully sleeping. The human now being carried off to her own bed, she must have been really dead to the world for having not woken up by all the noise.

When the Indigo haired demon`s heart rate had returned been back to a more normal pace, Levi had sent out his Akuzon order, adding some extra pay to have it delivered asap.

After that, he typed out a long, long, complaint message to Lucifer about Mammon not being reachable and his failing to take care of y/n, before heading to the kitchen to clean up the pudding mess.

  Beel, after making sure y/n was wrapped up warm underneath her covers, had made his way back to the kitchen to grab some snack like he had intended to, to take back to his bedroom. With a sad look, he glanced over the broken pudding cups, picked up the ones still OK, and left the rest to be cleaned up by Levi.

 Part of  “Its always darkest before the dawn”

Full read of the story can be found here

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30988790/chapters/76541054

[woodstockbtswriter]

Sweet

Genre: Fluff/Lust

Pairing: Jin x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 1.55K

Warning(s): Some heated kissing and innuendos, but nothing too risqué.

Author’s Note: This is one of several stories inspired by these kissing story prompts. Please enjoy! 💕

Prompt: Kissing Jin in the kitchen for no reason at all.

Sweet

You folded your arms across your chest, starting to lose your patience. Jin continued to browse through the refrigerator’s contents, taking his sweet time, seemingly unaware that he was obstructing your path. Finally, your boyfriend settled on a bottle of sparkling water, grabbing it and straightening up. You let out a relieved sigh as he stepped back and you moved towards the fridge, but he shut the door just before you reached it. When he looked back at you, he found you wearing an annoyed expression you couldn’t hide.

“Oh, sorry, jagi.” He apologized with a smile, unscrewing the cap from his water. A fizzy hiss escaped the bottle. “Did you need something out of the fridge?”

A sassy remark immediately came to mind, but you held it back. You were trying to bake him a welcome home treat, but his broad shoulders seemed to block you at every turn in your cramped kitchen.

Choosing not to respond, you only sighed again and quickly pulled open the door to fetch the egg carton. As soon as you turned around, you saw Jin leaning against the counter, casually sipping his drink - right in front of the drawer you were just about to open.

You drew in a slow breath. You were trying not to overreact, you really were. You loved your boyfriend, and you loved having him home. These nights together were far too infrequent; he was often gone for work for weeks at a time and you missed him like crazy until he returned. But, to be perfectly honest, every time he was gone, you got kind of used to him not being around. So when he was around, there was always an adjustment period. It took you some time each time to remember how to share your home, and you had to remind yourself often to not get upset with Jin and his shoulders for simply taking up space. 

“Excuse me, baby.” You said as calmly as you could, approaching Jin and touching his arm. “I need to get by you.”

He didn’t hesitate to slide over, allowing you access to the drawer, but instead of moving to his right, as you’d anticipated, he moved to his left - and stopped directly in front of the oven.

Your sigh was unmistakably exasperated this time.

“What?” Jin asked, his eyes widening. “What did I do?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I’m sorry but could you just… not be in the kitchen for a while?” You asked.

“I just wanted a drink.” Jin frowned. “And to hang out with you, my amazing, beautiful, wonderful, smart, loving, talented, patient girlfriend who I’ve missed so much.”

You felt a pang of guilt - which you suspected was exactly his intention.

“Fine. But if you’re gonna stay in here, please try to keep out of the way.” You said, marching towards him. When you reached him, you leaned around his frame to punch the buttons to set the oven to preheat.

Jin made a crisscross motion over his heart, but his face wore a small smirk.

“And here,” You added, holding out a well-worn recipe card towards him, “Make yourself useful and read me the instructions while you’re at it.”

“I’m nothing if not useful.” Jin quipped, taking the card from you and scanning the recipe.

“What about handsome?” You joked as you organized your ingredients and tools on the counter, hoping he could tell you weren’t really upset with him.

“Useful and handsome.” Jin agreed, and the corner of your mouth lifted.

You glanced at him, and he returned your faint smile, his eyes telling you he wasn’t offended. He then brandished the recipe card, clearing his throat, and your hands hovered over the countertop, poised and ready.

“Step number one,” Jin recited in his best MC voice, “Give your baking assistant a kiss.”

You scoffed.

“What? No, Jin, just read me the instructions! Please.”

Jin feigned offense.

“I am!” He exclaimed. “I’m reading them word-for-word!”

“I’ve made this recipe a million times, I know for a fact it doesn’t say that.” You accused him, reaching for the card, but Jin held it against his chest, shielding it from your view.

“Yah, I’m just reading what it says!” He laughed, swatting your hand away. “It says right here,” He pointed to a random spot on the card, “That you have to give me a kiss before we start or the whole thing will fail.”

“Whatever.” You huffed dramatically, rising to your tip-toes to quickly peck Jin’s smiling lips. “There. Step one complete. Now, what’s step two?”

Jin pretended to study the recipe.

“Hmm, step two is… repeat step one.”

“Jin!” You groaned, shoving his shoulder. “Come on! Seriously, could you stop messing around and just read me the recipe? Please?”

Jin’s teasing expression faded, and he reached for your waist, gently pulling you closer.

“Jagiya,” He chuckled softly, touching your face, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Usually you don’t mind it when I mess around… Is something wrong? Did you have a hard day?”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for you.” You pouted.  “I just wanted to make you something sweet to welcome you home, but you’re making it difficult.”

“Jagi…” Jin smoothed his thumb across your cheekbone, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know… I really appreciate you wanting to do something sweet for me… but you should know that you are the only sweet thing I want right now.”

You looked up into Jin’s eyes, and found him gazing at you with such sincerity - such pure, unadulterated love - that your heart instantly melted, and your pout became a repentant frown.

“I’m not being very sweet, though.” You admitted guiltily. “You’re being sweet and I’m treating you like a brat.”

Jin smiled slowly, cupping your face with both hands, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“But you’re my brat, and I love you.” He exhaled, inclining your chin. He then lowered his head, his eyes slipping shut as he sought out your lips, and a pleasant shudder ran through you when he found them.

Jin kissed you sweetly at first, taking his time to enjoy the feel of you in his embrace again after so long, but his hands gradually trailed down your body as his soft lips pressed to yours, his languid kisses slowly burning hotter the lower his grasp travelled. Your blood rushing, all thoughts about baking or wanting Jin to stay out of your way rapidly fled your mind, until finally, he reached the backs of your thighs. Breaking his mouth away, Jin hoisted you up and turned around, sitting you on the counter in one quick movement, before you even had time to gasp. He then fit himself between your legs and anxiously reclaimed your lips, parting them with his tongue as his hands kneaded your hips.

And it was at that precise moment that a loud beep sounded over the pounding of your heart, indicating that the oven was done preheating.

“The oven,” You remembered, reluctantly tearing yourself away, “The oven’s ready and I don’t have anything to put in it.”

Jin regarded you with a smoldering expression as both of you panted, trying to catch your breath.

Then a mischievous spark glinted in his eyes.

“I have something to put in your oven.” He purred, and before you could react, he hefted you up over his shoulder.

“Jin!” You cried, laughing as he started carrying you out of the kitchen and towards your bedroom. “What about your dessert?!”

Jin continued striding confidently down the hallway.

“It’s right here.” He replied, patting your bum with his free hand.

You giggled, swinging your arms and legs lazily, not really fighting him.

“At least turn the oven off!”

You couldn’t blame him for his appetite, and you were in no mind to deny him. Because honestly, the way he’d just kissed you… He’d awoken the same hunger in you, too.

Reaching your bed, Jin slid you off of his shoulder and carefully deposited you on the edge of the mattress. 

“You’re right, jagi, I’ll turn the oven off. It’s about to get hot enough in here as it is.” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the heat you felt spreading throughout your body.

“Okay, go ahead. If you’re sure you don’t want anything sweet tonight.”

Jin bent down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, and a wave of pleasure surged through you.

“I told you, jagi,” He whispered, his face hovering close, “You’re the only sweet treat I want. Tonight and every night.”

You smiled up at him, and stole another kiss, your teeth grazing his plump bottom lip.

“How about sweet and spicy?” You teased.

Jin straightened up, holding his tummy as he laughed his signature laugh.

“I like the sound of that.” He chuckled, making his way towards the door. “Just hold that thought, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, Jin?” You called after him, and he paused in the doorway.

“Yes, jagi?” He asked.

“I’m glad you’re home.” You smiled sweetly, and you truly meant it. Even though you'd been unjustly annoyed with him earlier, now you wanted nothing more than for Jin to share all of your space.

Jin’s expression softened, his gentle smile reaching his eyes.

“Me too, sweetie.” He agreed. “Me too.”

[btsfan15]

Heated Kiss

I folded my arms across my chest, starting to lose my patience. Jin continued to browse through the refrigerator’s contents, taking his sweet time, seemingly unaware that he was obstructing my path. Finally, my boyfriend settled on a bottle of sparkling water, grabbing it and straightening up. I let out a relieved sigh as he stepped back and I moved towards the fridge, but he shut the door just before I reached it. When he looked back at me, he found me wearing an annoyed expression I couldn’t hide.

“Oh, sorry, Navya .” He apologized with a smile, unscrewing the cap from his water. A fizzy hiss escaped the bottle. “Did you need something out of the fridge?”

A sassy remark immediately came to mind, but I held it back. I was trying to bake him a welcome home treat, but his broad shoulders seemed to block me at every turn in my cramped kitchen.

Choosing not to respond, I only sighed again and quickly pulled open the door to fetch the egg carton. As soon as I turned around, I saw Jin leaning against the counter, casually sipping his drink - right in front of the drawer I was just about to open.

I drew in a slow breath. I was trying not to overreact, I really was. I loved my boyfriend, and I loved having him home. These nights together were far too infrequent; he was often gone for work for weeks at a time and I missed him like crazy until he returned. But, to be perfectly honest, every time he was gone, I got kind of used to him not being around. So when he was around, there was always an adjustment period. It took me some time each time to remember how to share my home, and I had to remind myself often to not get upset with Jin and his shoulders for simply taking up space.

“Excuse me, Jin.” I said as calmly as I could, approaching Jin and touching his arm. “I need to get by you.”

He didn’t hesitate to slide over, allowing me access to the drawer, but instead of moving to his right, as I’d anticipated, he moved to his left - and stopped directly in front of the oven.

My sigh was unmistakably exasperated this time.

“What?” Jin asked, his eyes widening. “What did I do?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“I’m sorry but could you just… not be in the kitchen for a while?” I asked.

“I just wanted a drink.” Jin frowned. “And to hang out with you, my amazing, beautiful, wonderful, smart, loving, talented, patient girlfriend who I’ve missed so much.”

I felt a pang of guilt - which I suspected was exactly his intention.

“Fine. But if you’re gonna stay in here, please try to keep out of the way.” I said, marching towards him. When I reached him, I leaned around his frame to punch the buttons to set the oven to preheat.

Jin made a crisscross motion over his heart, but his face wore a small smirk.

“And here,” I added, holding out a well-worn recipe card towards him, “Make yourself useful and read me the instructions while you’re at it.”

“I’m nothing if not useful.” Jin quipped, taking the card from me and scanning the recipe.

“What about handsome?” I joked as I organized my ingredients and tools on the counter, hoping he could tell I wasn’t really upset with him.

“Useful and handsome.” Jin agreed, and the corner of my mouth lifted.

I glanced at him, and he returned my faint smile, his eyes telling me he wasn’t offended. He then brandished the recipe card, clearing his throat, and my hands hovered over the countertop, poised and ready.

“Step number one,” Jin recited in his best MC voice, “Give your baking assistant a kiss.”

I scoffed.

“What? No, Jin, just read me the instructions! Please.”

Jin feigned offense.

“I am!” He exclaimed. “I’m reading them word-for-word!”

“I’ve made this recipe a million times, I know for a fact it doesn’t say that.” I accused him, reaching for the card, but Jin held it against his chest, shielding it from my view.

“Yah, I’m just reading what it says!” He laughed, swatting my hand away. “It says right here,” He pointed to a random spot on the card, “That you have to give me a kiss before we start or the whole thing will fail.”

“Whatever.” I huffed dramatically, rising to my tip-toes to quickly peck Jin’s smiling lips. “There. Step one complete. Now, what’s step two?”

Jin pretended to study the recipe.

“Hmm, step two is… repeat step one.”

“Jin!” I groaned, shoving his shoulder. “Come on! Seriously, could you stop messing around and just read me the recipe? Please?”

Jin’s teasing expression faded, and he reached for my waist, gently pulling me closer.

“Navya,” He chuckled softly, touching my face, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Usually you don’t mind it when I mess around… Is something wrong? Did you have a hard day?”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for you.” I pouted.  “I just wanted to make you something sweet to welcome you home, but you’re making it difficult.”

“Jagi…” Jin smoothed his thumb across my cheekbone, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know… I really appreciate you wanting to do something sweet for me… but you should know that you are the only sweet thing I want right now.”

I looked up into Jin’s eyes, and found him gazing at me with such sincerity - such pure, unadulterated love - that my heart instantly melted, and my pout became a repentant frown.

“I’m not being very sweet, though.” I admitted guiltily. “You’re being sweet and I’m treating you like a brat.”

Jin smiled slowly, cupping my face with both hands, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“But you’re my brat, and I love you.” He exhaled, inclining my chin. He then lowered his head, his eyes slipping shut as he sought out my lips, and a pleasant shudder ran through me when he found them.

Jin kissed me sweetly at first, taking his time to enjoy the feel of me in his embrace again after so long, but his hands gradually trailed down my body as his soft lips pressed to mine, his languid kisses slowly burning hotter the lower his grasp travelled. My blood rushing, all thoughts about baking or wanting Jin to stay out of my way rapidly fled my mind, until finally, he reached the backs of my thighs. Breaking his mouth away, Jin hoisted me up and turned around, sitting me on the counter in one quick movement, before I even had time to gasp. He then fit himself between my legs and anxiously reclaimed my lips, parting them with his tongue as his hands kneaded my hips.

And it was at that precise moment that a loud beep sounded over the pounding of my heart, indicating that the oven was done preheating.

“The oven,” I remembered, reluctantly tearing myself away, “The oven’s ready and I don’t have anything to put in it.”

Jin regarded me with a smoldering expression as both of us panted, trying to catch my breath.

Then a mischievous spark glinted in his eyes.

“I have something to put in your oven.” He purred, and before I could react, he hefted me up over his shoulder.

“Jin!” I cried, laughing as he started carrying me out of the kitchen and towards my bedroom. “What about your dessert?!”

Jin continued striding confidently down the hallway.

“It’s right here.” He replied, patting my bum with his free hand.

I giggled, swinging my arms and legs lazily, not really fighting him.

“At least turn the oven off!”

I couldn’t blame him for his appetite, and I was in no mind to deny him. Because honestly, the way he’d just kissed me… He’d awoken the same hunger in me, too.

Reaching my bed, Jin slid me off of his shoulder and carefully deposited me on the edge of the mattress.

“You’re right, Navya, I’ll turn the oven off. It’s about to get hot enough in here as it is.” He grinned.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t deny the heat I felt spreading throughout my body.

“Okay, go ahead. If you’re sure you don’t want anything sweet tonight.”

Jin bent down to press a lingering kiss to my lips, and a wave of pleasure surged through me.

“I told you, Navya,” He whispered, his face hovering close, “You’re the only sweet treat I want. Tonight and every night.”

I smiled up at him, and stole another kiss, my teeth grazing his plump bottom lip.

“How about sweet and spicy?” I teased.

Jin straightened up, holding his tummy as he laughed his signature laugh.

“I like the sound of that.” He chuckled, making his way towards the door. “Just hold that thought, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, Jin?” I called after him, and he paused in the doorway.

“Yes, Navya?” He asked.

“I’m glad you’re home.” I smiled sweetly, and I truly meant it. Even though I'd been unjustly annoyed with him earlier, now I wanted nothing more than for Jin to share all of my space.

Jin’s expression softened, his gentle smile reaching his eyes.

“Me too, Navya.” He agreed. “Me too.”

“I love you, Jinnie.” I said.

“I love you, too.” Jin says.

[akapeterman]

craving the past

Peter's down with the flu at the lake house, but his insecurities get the best of him and he doesn't let Tony know. Unfortunately, things get a whole lot more hectic than he intends, and the whole situation spirals out of his control.

link to read on ao3

Peter was really starting to get sick of this headache. 

It was low grade, more annoying than anything else, but the pain was there; scrambling his focus and mildly irritating his enhanced senses. 

He just wanted it gone.

He was staying at the lake house for spring break, and Mr. Stark had warned him that Morgan was recovering from a bug and by result was stir crazy and cranky from being cooped up for so long. Morgan was a force to be reckoned with, sick or not, and listening to her throw a tantrum was not at the top of his bucket list with this headache. Mr. Stark had said they could reschedule if he wanted, but May was going to Mexico for the week with Happy and Peter had decided it would be better for his anxiety if he was keeping busy and around people. 

Standing outside searching for Mr. Stark’s car, squinting against the sunlight, he was wondering if he made the wrong choice. 

He didn’t want to be alone, not really, but he was really tired and didn’t want to worry anyone. And Mr. Stark could always tell when he hadn’t been sleeping enough, so he had no chance with trying to hide it. 

A car pulled up in front of him and the window rolled down to reveal a familiar face, but not the one he was expecting. 

“Hop in, kid,” Happy grumbled. “It’s technically my day off and I have to be on time to meet May after her shift is over.”

Peter buckled himself into the car, glancing curiously at the head of security beside him. 

“Where’s Mr Stark?”

“What, I’m not good enough for you?” Peter rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean. I just thought he was supposed to pick me up today.”

“Pep had to run into the office and Tony didn’t want to bring Morgan all the way down here; I don’t know if he warned you, but she’s pretty cranky right now.”

“Oh. Yeah he did, yeah, that makes sense.” Peter couldn’t explain why his chest tightened at the fact. He shivered and pulled his knees up onto the seat to try and keep warm; when had it gotten so cold?

Happy gave him an odd look that Peter couldn’t quite read before turning his eyes back to the road. He opened his mouth then closed it again. 

“Kid, you’re usually talking my ear off by now. Are you alright?” Happy finally asked, somewhat awkwardly.  

“Sorry, yeah. I’m good. Just had a long day at school.” 

“Okay. Just checking.” 

Peter rested his head on the window, feeling the cool glass ebb away at his ever pounding skull. He zoned out, staring as the roads turned twisty and the city noise faded into the background. 

He didn’t sleep, though he wished he could. In all honesty, Peter kind of assumed this might be where his headache was coming from; he was so tired, but for the past few days, no matter what he just couldn’t seem to sleep. It seemed pointless to even try closing his eyes, so he just watched the trees zoom by in blurs of green.

The hours passed quickly, until finally Peter felt the car pull into the familiar gravel driveway. Happy got out of the car first, grabbing Peter’s backpack out of the trunk. 

Peter was a little slower. His brain took a moment to process that they had stopped, he still felt like he was moving. He opened his door and went to get his bag from Happy, but the moment his feet hit the rocky ground, black and white dots flashed across his vision and he stumbled. 

“Woah…”

A firm hand planted itself on Peter’s upper arm and everything slowly came back into focus. Shit. This was worse than he thought. 

“Peter, eyes on me.” Happy snapped his fingers in front of his face and Peter swatted his hand away. 

“I’m good, I’m good.” Happy gave him a look.

“You almost just took a swan dive into the gravel, try again.” 

“I just need to eat something. I was finishing my Spanish homework at lunch and didn’t really have time to eat, my blood sugars probably low.” Not a total lie, he did skip lunch, but that was more attributed to the vague nausea accompanying his headache than to his Spanish homework. 

Happy looked skeptical but nodded.

“Go get Tony to make you something to eat, I’ll bring your stuff in.” Peter immediately straighted. 

“Wait, no. Please don’t tell Mr Stark about the whole...you know. ‘Victorian lady’ moment,” Peter pleaded. 

“No can do, kid. He’s on a need to know basis when it comes to your health.” 

“Please, Happy.” Peter flashed him his puppy dog eyes and Happy relented.

“Fine. But go eat.” Peter gave him a thumbs up and walked towards the door with Happy not far behind picking up his bags, grumbling under his breath.

“Damn kid, making me soft.” 

-

Inside the house was a disaster. There were open children’s books and various toys strewn across the floor, a couple cushions pulled off the couches and something was boiling over on the stove. 

Still, Peter felt himself relaxing immediately as the familiar, homey environment welcomed him. He wasn’t even aware he was still so cold until the warmth from the fireplace eased up his shaking hands.

Tony walked down the hall at the sound of the door, looking as exhausted as Peter felt, and he held a finger to his lips when he saw Peter. 

“Good to see you, kiddo,” Tony greeted quietly. “Morgan finally fell asleep after the 50th bedtime story today, so no big ragers tonight, you hear?” Peter smiled.

“Hey, Mr. Stark.” Tony’s posture changed, eyes more alert as he sized up Peter’s appearance. 

“You only call me that when something’s up, and you’re pale. What happened?” 

Happy chose that moment to chime in from the open doorway.

“Kid’s hungry. He hasn’t eaten since lunch, his blood sugar is probably tanking right now.” Peter turned to shoot Happy a venomous look and the older man just shrugged back. Luckily Tony didn’t notice the exchange and clasped his hands together.

“Now that I can fix. What’re you feeling like, Pete? We’re getting takeout tonight, but in the meantime we have a little leftover pasta, some soup—oh hell.” Tony’s eyes landed on the pot that was bubbling over and spilling onto the ground and he rushed to turn off the stove.

Peter made a beeline for one of the couches the minute Tony’s attention was off him, fatigue pulling at his body and melting him into the cushions. 

He kind of spaced out again, tuning into the white noise inside his head. He heard Tony invite Happy to stay for dinner and Happy decline, explaining he had to meet May at the airport on time for their flight to Mexico. 

Happy left with a “see ya later” over his shoulder and then it was just Peter and Tony. 

Tony, having cleaned up his mess, came and sat at the end of the couch and threw a protein bar at Peter. 

“Eat up, buttercup. I’m gonna order in dinner soon, what do you feel like?” 

Peter had absolutely no appetite, but he knew he had to eat. Stupid enhanced metabolism. 

“Um...I’m not really sure.”

“Come on, kid. Don’t you have any preference? Pizza, Chinese...Thai?” Peter tried not to show his discomfort as his stomach sloshed warningly at the talk of food. 

“Yeah, um, Thai sounds good. Is Pepper gonna want anything?” 

“Pep is staying overnight at the Compound to oversee some SI stuff, so it’s just us for the night. Kiddo, I hate to say it, but I am exhausted. Morgan is a real handful when she’s sick. Is it alright if we postpone our lab day and turn in after dinner?”

Peter nodded, both relieved and disappointed. That pang in his chest was back, and Peter felt bad. He hated to admit it, but he was a little jealous of Morgan. He kind of missed spending a ton of time with Tony, and he craved being around people right now but didn’t want to intrude and add more to Tony’s plate. Peter internally scolded himself for allowing himself to feel this way at all. He was just overtired, he shouldn’t be thinking he was a priority over Tony’s actual sick actual daughter. 

“Pete?” Peter startled when Tony tapped his arm to get his attention, realizing he had zoned out again. That was happening a lot today. 

“Hm? Sorry, yes. That sounds good.” 

 “You look dead on your feet, bud. When’s the last time you got a full night of sleep?”

“A few nights ago. Junior year is kind of kicking my ass, I’ve had a lot of homework,” Peter lied. Yes, he’s had tons of work, but even when he didn’t, he still couldn’t sleep. No amount of Melatonin or counting sheep seemed to change the fact that he was chronically awake. 

Tony seemed to believe that, but despite the lie, he still looked concerned. 

“An early night will be good for you, then.” Tony concluded, then stood up to start putting the cushions from the floor back in the missing places on the couches. Distantly, Peter wondered when Tony had become so mundane.

- 

Later that night, once Peter had picked at his Thai food and inconspicuously wrapped a good portion of it in his napkin that he threw out as soon as he got the chance, Peter finally worked up the courage to ask to watch a movie with Tony before they headed to bed. He didn’t know why asking made him feel so weird, they had watched movies all the time together before. Before everything had changed, and Peter had arrived back in a world that had seemingly moved on without him; a world where Tony had a kid who was biologically his.

But now, asking for something like this felt like such a big task, no matter how much the rational part of Peter’s brain assured him it wasn’t. When Tony agreed and tossed him the remote to pick out a movie while he went to the kitchen to whip up some popcorn, Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

“Get it together, Parker,” he scolded himself, rubbing at his eyes in hopes of dulling the slowly worsening ache in his head, “Tony doesn’t have time for you to start losing it.” 

By the time Tony returned, Peter had dropped his hand from his forehead and the familiar opening credits to The Hunger Games were playing on the TV. 

Tony sat down by Peter on the couch with a bowl of popcorn he set down on the coffee table and Peter allowed himself to stretch his legs over Tony’s, feeling a little touch-starved and unwell. 

Not even twenty minutes into the movie, when Peter was finally starting to relax and his eyes were beginning to droop, a familiar voice came from the top of the steps. 

“Daddy,” Morgan sobbed, “I had a bad dream.” Tony shot Peter an apologetic look in the dull light of the TV as he stood up and headed up to Morgan. 

“Hey, Maguna. It’s okay, I can stay with you until you fall asleep again,” Tony said gently. Clearly overtired and cranky. Morgan stomped her foot, tears and snot running down her face looking overall very distraught.

“I’m not going back to bed. The bad dreams will come back!” Morgan cried even harder, and the way her little voice was rising was amplifying Peter’s headache with vengeance. He covered his ears with his hands but it wasn’t enough to block everything that was going on from his enhanced senses. 

“What if you sleep in my room tonight, sweetheart? I’ll scratch your back if you want, and I’ll be right next to you if the bad dreams come back.” 

Morgan sniffed, pawing tiredly at her eyes with her hands, and nodded slowly. 

“I’ll be back down soon,” Tony said over his shoulder as he picked her up and walked down the hall to his bedroom. 

Peter, now awake as ever due to the unrelenting pain in his head and otherwise crippling insomnia, paused the movie as he waited for Tony to come back down. As the minutes ticked by, Peter grew more skeptical. Surely Tony was at least going to say goodnight before going to bed? Eventually, as fifteen minutes became thirty, and thirty became an hour, Peter realized that Tony wasn’t coming back down. He pressed play on the movie and 

The feeling in his chest burned more intensely than ever as he curled up into a ball and fell into a fitful sleep.

-

Peter woke up on the couch disoriented and overheated. There were vaguely hushed voices coming from the kitchen and there was a blanket over his shoulders that definitely wasn’t there when he fell asleep. It was a nice gesture, no doubtedly from Tony, but he was sweating buckets already and he pushed the blanket to the ground in an attempt to escape the uncomfortable heat . 

More awake now, he noticed he felt decidedly way worse than yesterday. The little bit of sleep he’d gotten hadn’t helped in the slightest, and he felt overall really shitty. Despite being really hot, he was shivering as though he were cold and his senses were dialled up. Damn. This sucked. He took a few deep breaths to try and regulate his temperature, and it worked a little. 

Morgan was standing on a stool and trying to grab a wooden spoon from where it was sitting on the counter behind a few loose pans. 

“Oops!” Morgan giggled as she knocked them off and all the pans clattered around her. 

“Shhhh, Peter is sleeping.” Peter chose that moment to make his presence known. 

“No I’m not,” he mumbled tiredly, finally feeling steady enough to swing his feet around so they hit the ground. 

“Petey!” Morgan yelled, her feet pattering against the floor as she ran over to him. She threw herself into his arms. He stumbled, almost going back down as he swayed but managed to keep his footing.

“You seem to be feeling better, Mo,” Peter noted, putting her down almost immediately and bracing himself on the arm of the couch. If she seemed put out by this, she didn’t show it. 

“My tummy doesn’t even hurt anymore! But Daddy said I couldn’t have pancakes today like you and I was really sad but instead I get oatmeal with apple slices and a juice pop at lunch if I’m good,” Morgan said excitedly. 

“That’s good. Did you sleep well last night?” Peter said, trying to keep his voice light. Tony grimaced despite Peter’s best efforts to avoid the topic.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I meant to come down and finish the movie with you but I ended up passing out alongside Morgan.” “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Peter said, the feeling in his chest coiled tighter than ever. “I conked out on the couch pretty much as soon as you left. You were right, I was pretty tired.” Another lie. Peter really was starting to weave himself into a web of them. 

“Still, I feel bad. Which is why I made you pancakes: just the way you like with triple the amount of chocolate chips than socially acceptable. With strawberries on the side.”

“I helped!” Morgan chimed in. Peter took in the mess of the kitchen, the sugar spilled across the counter, the broken egg on the floor and the flour in Morgan’s hair. 

“I can see that.” Morgan beamed. 

Tony finally looked up from the sizzling pancake on the pan and took in Peter’s disheveled appearance. 

“Woah, kid. You’re looking a little green around the gills there. You alright?” Peter thought about telling the truth, but then he looked down at the excitable little girl currently hanging onto his leg, and he forced a nod instead. 

“Oh yeah, totally. Got a bit of a headache, but that’ll be fixed with some food.” Tony gave him an odd look, before seemingly believing him. 

“Alright, there’s some pancakes there you can get started on before I’m done all these. Go ahead and get started.”

Peter was able to force down a pancake and a half before he felt the nausea return at full force. His mouth filled with saliva and his throat tightened and he knew he was only minutes away from disaster.   

“Hey, I never really got the chance to unpack last night. I think I’m gonna head to my room and take a shower, put away all my stuff, all that.” Peter put all his effort into keeping his voice as steady as possible. 

“Sounds good, bud.” Tony said absently, distracted by the animated story Morgan was currently telling about some of the other kids in her Kindergarten class.  

The minute Peter stepped into his room and closed the door behind him, he headed immediately to the ensuite bathroom and turned the shower on full blast. 

Then, he kneeled in front of the toilet and promptly puked up his breakfast. He heaved hard and tried to be as quiet as possible as tears of exertion ran down his face.

He was undeniably sick. 

Shit. He needed to tell Tony. He wanted his super-kid meds that Bruce had synthesized for him, and honestly, he also just wanted a hug. When he was home, May always cuddled with him when he wasn’t feeling well. He longed for that kind of comfort right now.  

Peter actually did hop in the shower once his stomach settled, and the warm water helped his aching muscles feel better. He changed into a pair of sweats and pulled on an old t-shirt of Ben’s he didn’t even realize he had packed. 

Peter supposed he should have figured out he was sick before now. He didn’t really get sick as often anymore, but when he used to he would always put on Ben’s old clothes.

He practiced saying the words in his head as he walked down the hall on shaky legs, anxious for no real reason. It was his fever, mostly, but also in part a very real insecurity that had planted itself in his head since the Reversal that Tony wouldn’t care about him anymore the moment he became a burden. He had his own daughter now, afterall. Still, he took a deep breath and spoke.

“Um, Mr Stark, I’m not really—” 

“One sec, Pete. Morgan’s throat hurts again, can you grab her a juice pop from the freezer while I get the thermometer from the bathroom?” 

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” “Wait, Petey. Lift me up, I wanna get it out of the box myself but Mommy puts them on the top shelf so I can’t reach them,” Morgan said, tugging on Peter’s sleeve. Peter ran a shaky hand over his face. 

“Sure, Mo,” he said tiredly. He picked her up under the armpits, and Peter wishes he could turn back time and erase what happened next. 

Somehow Morgan’s little foot had gotten tucked partially into his hoodie pocket when he lifted her up, and as he went to put her down, she tried to pull her foot out. The sudden movement knocked him off balance, and Morgan tumbled into the kitchen counter behind them, arm outstretched. 

Her shriek is not one Peter will ever forget.

“Oh my god, Morgan!” Peter knelt down to see what was wrong, but black and white spots in his eyes had him sitting down all the way. Tony ran down in panic at the sound of his daughter’s sobbing.

“What the hell happened?” Tony asked frantically, getting on the floor with them and checking Morgan over from head to toe.

“Peter dropped me!” Morgan bawled.

 “Jesus, Peter! What were you thinking?” Tony’s words stung more than a slap in the face. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Tony’s expression was stony and unreadable as he wrapped Morgan up in a blanket and into his arms, avoiding her arm as she continued to sob. 

“I’m taking her to the hospital. Her arm is already swelling, I don’t want to risk it being broken and us not getting it checked.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said again, trying to keep his voice from trembling. Tony didn’t pay him any attention, focusing solely on trying to calm Morgan down.  

 “Rhodey will be here before I’m back, he’s coming for lunch. Please clean up the kitchen while we’re gone. And for the love of God, Peter. She’s just a little kid. You have to be more careful.” 

Tony was loading Morgan into the car within minutes, and even after they pulled out of the driveway, Morgan’s sobs echoed in his head. She had been crying because of him.

The feeling in his chest was burning now, like a fire spreading to his head and stomach as he watched them pull out of the driveway. He tried to make his way to his room so he could lie down, but he had to stop in the hall when he got too dizzy to move forward. 

Just standing there unable to move, he let his guilt bubble to the surface. 

None of this would’ve happened if he’d just stayed away. He wouldn’t have dropped Morgan, she wouldn’t have even been in danger if he hadn’t come over. Her arm would be fine, she wouldn’t be hurt. God, he couldn’t forget the way she was wailing. That was his fault. His fault. Heat was rolling over him in waves, suffocating heat. He tried to take in a breath, and oh god. He couldn’t breathe. 

His knees hit the ground hard as he tried to heave air into his lungs, embarrassment and guilt and so many other unrecognizable emotions were all bundled up and being amplified by his fever. 

He was so overwhelmed, so dizzy, and everything was dialed to eleven. He tugged his nails across his skin, hoping to get relief from how tight his skin felt against him. He felt so claustrophobic, everything was way too much. How could he be so goddamn stupid. 

Ever since coming back from the Snap, everything was different. Tony had Morgan now. He had the kid he’d always needed. And now Peter was losing Tony, and he had no way of getting him back if that happened. That’s how it always worked, anyone he trusted and loved like a father was taken away from him. 

Ben. 

Oh god. Peter sobbed into his hands, hard, his whole body shaking. He missed him. The way Ben would hold him tight when he was sick, the way he always knew instantly when he wasn’t feeling well. Ben always knew what he needed, often before Peter himself even knew. Peter craved that feeling of love more than anything else right now, and all he could do was cry in its absence. 

In the midst of his panic attack, he hadn’t even heard the door open. 

“Peter?” A soft voice called from the door. Pepper was home from work. “Tony texted me the situation and—oh my god. Peter!” Peter only cried harder as he heard Pepper rushing into the hallway, her every step feeling like it was pounding straight into his skull. 

“Are you bleeding anywhere? Holy shit, Peter, what’s going on?” Pepper kneeled down beside him, hesitant to touch but hovering her hands nearby. 

“I want Ben,” he cried, beginning to feel detached from his body. His head felt fuzzy and he found himself struggling to stay conscious. Pepper made a soft noise.

“Come here, honey,” she said, opening her arms. Peter melted into her embrace, and Pepper gasped a little as his skin made contact. “How long have you had a fever?” 

But Peter was beyond words at this point. Being wrapped in her arms only made him cry harder. He didn’t deserve this; didn’t she know who’s fault it was that his daughter was in the hospital? His breathing picked up again, he was going through the motions but no air was entering his lungs.

“I need you to breathe with me, alright? Inhale for 4, hold for 7, let out for 8. Can you do that with me, sweetheart?” 

Peter managed to keep up with her as she counted, and his breathing slowly began to even out. but the tears didn’t stop falling. Nothing felt real at this point, he was floating and detached and void of all feeling but fear and hurt. 

He could vaguely make out Pepper’s voice talking to someone else, but he couldn’t focus on anything. 

“Rhodey, thank god. He’s burning.” There was another hand that moved against his forehead, this one rougher than Pepper’s soft touch, but none less gentle. 

“We need to get him into the tub. I’ll carry him there, can you go ahead and fill the bath? Less than halfway with lukewarm water.” Rhodey was talking seriously, and he sounded scared. Peter was losing a grip on his surroundings. 

“And call Tony. Ask him what symptoms Peter’s had since he’s been here.”

“I will.” A soft kiss was pressed to his hairline before footsteps retreated down the hall. 

That was the last thing he processed before everything went black.

[aisleb]

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