#he already makes me slightly mad by being in my vicinity because i hate him with a passion so

[metalribcage]

I'm so pissed rn holy shit

[mizunetzu]

ok ok so my request 👉🏻👈🏻

it’s the most obvious thing but i have a full crush on bakugou, so can you please write about him x male reader, where the reader is like.. having nightmares or almost doesn’t sleep because of his quirk (idk like maybe he can hear something special or predict anything bad, doesn’t really matter) but feels safe around bakugou so he always falls asleep around him or even oN him and katsuki is like “😡(❤️)shit whatever” and the reader is kinda shy about that but totally ok with their friends being like “wow bro that’s kinda gay :> ” because he is comfortable with “oh that’s because i aM the gay✌🏻” and his classmates love him and everything and would never mock.. but one time someone from another class was really really rude bcs of that or said that katsuki hates it so the reader starts to avoid bakugou and bakugou geTS MAD about it because reader is just his and no one else’s >:0 maybe a little confession from him in the end, maybe some.. *gay coughing* angy k*ss from him

please make it angsty but with a fluffy ending please please and thank you very much in advance💙 sorry if it’s too big i can’t explain my thoughts properly thaha

Bruh I just realized how long this request is 💀💀 also look at me, writing it like decades after you requested it 😭 pls enjoy I’m actually quite proud of it (also isn’t that gif perfect hahah get it bc the prompt was abt like sleeping and bakugou’s sleeping and-yeah I’ll let u read now)

——————

Bakugou x reader - Angry Insomniacs

⚠️Warnings - mild arguing, it’s not that bad

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

“Why are you always fuckin’ sleeping on me?”

It first started during the Sports Festival. The chicken race and cavalry battle really took a toll on (Y/n), and he was suffering harsh quirk drawbacks. That, being drowsiness.

Somewhere on the stands, (y/n’s) eyes grew heavier and heavier until he realized he had fallen asleep. He also didn’t realized until he woke up that no one disturbed him when he was near Bakugou. Be it fear, or just plain respect, (Y/n) seemed to get the best rest when he was with Bakugou. Not even Iida dared to wake him up when he dosed off on Bakugous shoulder.

He always made it a point to be in Bakugous vicinity when ever he could, taking naps with his head buried in his arms next to Bakugou at lunch, or having his head resting on his shoulder in the dorms.

“Oi! Don’t drift off on me!”

“Mm? Sorry, Bakugou.”

(Y/n) rubbed his eyes as he weakly pushed off the common room couch, stretching and yawning as he did so. “Can I sleep in your room tonight?”

“N-no, dumbass! Fuck kinda question is that, shit-for-brains?!”

“I’ll see you there later then, Bakugou.” (Y/n) gave a slight nod, Bakugou practically foaming at the mouth already, before trotting off the continue his nap in his own room.

Before heading to his room though, he walked into the kitchen to grab a post-nap time snack. Tsuyu, who was already digging in the fridge, stepped back so (Y/n) could grab whatever he wanted.

Tsu eyed (Y/n’s) slightly tousled hair. “Did you take another nap on bakugou-chan? Kero.”

(Y/n) hummed out a “yes.” Tsu hummed back in acknowledgment. Kaminari and Kirishima, unintentionally, started listening in from their place in the kitchen after hearing Bakugou being mentioned.

Tsuyu put a finger to her lip. “Ne, (Y/n)-chan, why do you always take naps on Bakugou-chan? It’s always him, kero, and you go out of your way to make sure it’s only him.”

“Why?” (Y/n) pulled off the carton of milk stubbornly hanging on to the fridge. “Because I like Bakugou. Duh. And I sleep better near people I like.

Kaminari gasped comically while Kirishima sputtered and choked on his words. Not just listening anymore, Kaminari but in. “L-like? Like, ‘like’-like?!”

Kaminari and Kirishima joined Tsuyu and (Y/n) near the fridge. (Y/n) nodded out an “mm-hm.”, whilst grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

“So you’re like...” Kirishima made wild, indecipherable, gestures with his hand. Eventually, after realizing no one was taking the hint, brought his voice down to a whisper.

“...like...gay..?”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell us?!” Kaminari grasped at his blond hair. (Y/n) thought for a moment, poured himself a glass of milk, and shrugged.

“I don’t know. You never asked.”

“And you’re so comfortable just telling us now? Why, kero-kero?”

“Because I’m gay as fuuuuuck.” (Y/n) took a swig of milk like it was a shot of whiskey. “And it’s not like it was a secret or anything.”

“Though I don’t think Bakugou knows. He’s too angry about me sleepin’ on him all the time to actually care about me.”

(Y/n) polished off his glass of milk. He set the cup down gently into the sink. “Eh, it’s not like I actually care for what he thinks about me.”

“See ya, I’m gonna finish my nap.”

“Uh-bye”

“Bye-bye.”

“Bye, kero.”

———

(Y/n) yawned as his head lolled off of Bakugou’s shoulder. He hissed, dusting off his shoulder angrily.

“Go sleep somewhere else!”

“I’m just goin’ to the bathroom, Bakugou, I’ll be back. Keep your shoulder warm for me.”

(Y/n) weakly stood up from his chair, and sluggishly walked out of the cafeteria. Damn, his feet felt heavy. Maybe if he hurried to the bathroom, he’d get back in time to catch a few more minutes of sleep before Bakugou exploded on him or lunch ended.

(Y/n’s) shoulder accidentally caught on someone else’s, making him stumble back and rub his shoulder. Monoma tilted his chin up in a mocking fashion.

“Ara? Is that (L/n) (Y/n) from class 1-A I see?”

(Y/n) nodded, only half processing his words as he continued on his way to the bathroom. Monoma followed somewhat behind, spewing words and one-liners that went in one ear and out the other. That is, until,

“Honestly, you would’ve thought that angry blond kid would’ve told you by now”.

(Y/n’s) ear perked up. He halted to a stop, Monoma following suit and shoving his hands smugly in his pockets. “What’s this about Bakugou?”

“Oh? He really didn’t tell you, huh? That’s...” Monoma stifled a condescending snicker. “...surprising.”

(Y/n) stepped closer. “C’mon man, tell me what?”

Monoma sighed. “Well,”

“I heard that Mr. Blasty, matter-o-factly,” Monoma jabbed his pointer finger into (Y/n’s) chest. “Really, really hates it when you sleep on, or near him. Actually,”

“I think he just hates you in general.”

(Y/n) furrowed his brows. He’s lying. He’s lying. He likes him, doesn’t he? Bakugou likes him, or else he wouldn’t have lead him on for so long, right?

Because he wouldn’t let just anyone sleep on his shoulder...right?

“You’re lying.”

“Well, believe what you want, honestly,” Monoma made a show of crossing his arms dramatically. “But you should see the way he shit-talks and glares at you in you’re sleep. It’s not like he can push you off though, you’re ‘just so persistent you’ll never leave him the fuck alone’.”

(Y/n) shoved his hands in his pockets. Monoma raised his hands in defense. “His words, not mine.”

(Y/n) turned on his heel and began to speed walk to the bathroom. Monoma yelled out from his spot in the empty hallway.

“Oh? You don’t want to hear what he thinks about your little crush on him?”

(Y/n) froze. He was under the assumption that everyone but him knew, could he be wrong? He pressed his lips into a fine line, turning around as composedly as he could. Though, he couldn’t mask the fearful curiosity in his eyes.

Monoma grinned. It was an unpleasant, sarcastic grin, one that didn’t look peaceful or pleasing at all.

“Well, I doubt that there’s anything to to say at all, so does it really ma-“

“What...what does he say about me?” (Y/n’s) voice quivered. He knew he was falling into Monoma’s trap, that he was just trying to provoke him, that he was looking for any kind of reaction, but his curiosity got the best of him. It really did, because Monoma’s words stabbed spears into (Y/n’s) heart, word by word.

“Blasty thinks it’s fucking disgusting how you like him, like, as another dude. Like honestly, he thinks you take him for an idiot for thinking he actually didn’t know! And the fact you sleep so close to him know full well you want to get in his pants?! He thinks you’re a pervert! A lazy shit! A fag! Ahahaha!”

Monoma loud cackles were cut short when he suddenly slumped over. He sunk to the ground, revealing Kendo, holding one big hand up and the other to her waist. She most likely knocked Monoma out once she heard his condescending retorts from the cafeteria.

Kendo sighed, bending down the haul Monoma’s arm over her shoulder. Her heavy glare softened once she caught sight of (Y/n’s) buggy eyed face starting at the ground where Monoma was.

“Sorry...he didn’t say anything too harsh, right?” Kendo’s words were gentle, but they sounded practically inaudible to (Y/n’s) traumatized ears.

He wordlessly staggered past her, heading back into the cafeteria to grab his lunch and sit elsewhere. He supposed he wouldn’t bother Bakugou anymore. Since he’s so damn ‘persistent’, he figured he’d stop bothering him for the rest of the day.

He wished he wasn’t so curious about what Bakugou thought of him. Like people say, ignorance is bliss. He could’ve gone his whole high school career without knowing Bakugou hated his every being. How was he going to face him in class knowing every pointer glare, every scoff, every insult was genuine?

(Y/n) felt his throat tighten. For the first time in years, (L/n) (Y/n) was fully awake.

——

It was the first time in many months that (Y/n) didn’t sit in the seat next to Bakugou, napping in his presence. He’d done it every day no fail, that is until this week. Actually, this is the 6th consecutive day he didn’t take a nap at all.

(Y/n) sat placid in his assigned seat, eyes wide and trying to keep awake. He couldn’t sleep without thinking of Bakugou, and every time he did it was always him scoffing and turning his back on him.

Every few seconds, (Y/n) would jolt harshly in his seat, rocking back and forth like a drug addict in withdrawal. He stared at his desk with eyes that could kill someone, and he dug his hands into his forearms to keep himself somewhat awake.

He didn’t hear Kirishima calling his name until he snapped his fingers infront of his face. The snap rang like a gunshot, surprising (Y/n) from his trance so badly he jolted back like he got electrocuted. Kirishima raised an eyebrow.

“You...ok man...?”

(Y/n’s) dry eyes landed fixed onto Kirishima. He relaxed, and let out a breath he didn’t know he was taking. “M’fine...”

His voice cracked like it hadn’t been used for days. (Y/n) let his eyes drift back forward, hunching back over and huddling his body like he was trying to squeeze himself to death. When Kirishima gave him a skeptical glare and crossed his arms, (Y/n) let out a small “m’ just tired, that’s all...” and gave the most pathetic smile known to man.

“If you’re so tired,” Mina, rested her arms on the back of (Y/n’s) chair. “Why don’t you sleep on Bakugou like you do every morn-“

“NO! I-I can’t do that!” (Y/n) whipped his head back, gripping the back of his chair so hard his hand turned white. Mina and Kirishima flinched, noticeably caught off guard with his sudden outburst. “I...can’t...I can’t do that...”

(Y/n) suddenly looked very awake, contrasting the way he looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes open the whole time they were in class.

(Y/n’s) breath steadied as he shut his mouth awkwardly. “M’sorry...for yelling...didn’t mean to...”

(Y/n) scrubbed at his eyes. The rush of adrenaline was already wearing off. Mina set her dainty pink hand on (Y/n’s) hunched form. “Why not...?”

“I just can’t.”

(Y/n) said nothing more. He went back to his occasional jolts awake and scrubbing his heavy eyes every 2 minutes. Kirishima sighed, shaking his head towards Bakugou, before shrugging his shoulders then forming an ‘X’ with his hands.

Bakugou clicked his tongue angrily, turning and facing back forward in his seat.

——

(Y/n) was practically seeing stars by the end of hero’s class.

It was a relatively simple assignment, 1 on 1 sparring, but it caused a lot of quirk use.

He fought both his tired eyes and Midoryia, but ultimately failing due to his harsh quirk drawbacks. Midoryia barely had to break a sweat to have (Y/n) come toppling down.

(Y/n) was ushered back into the horde of students murmuring “don’t mind” and “you did great!”, but he just slithered past and stood a few feet away from them, all the way in the back of the field.

All might was explaining something (Y/n) couldn’t quite hear. Not only because he was standing so far away, but because his hearing had been considerably wonky, not to mention the hissing, ringing sound irritating his eardrums.

“Oi.”

And even if the ringing had stopped and he could hear, his brain was too tuckered out to remember anything past five seconds ago.

“Oi!”

Gosh, speaking of his brain-

“OI! SHIT-FOR-BRAINS! YOU GONNA KEEP IGNORING ME OR YOU GONNA TELL ME WHY YOU’VE BEEN AVOIDIN’ ME?!”

Bakugou set off a small explosion. The blast wasn’t nearly as loud or powerful as in combat, but to a tired mans ears, it sounded like nukes. The ringing in (Y/n’s) ears spiked, and he cupped his ears tightly.

“B-Bakugou, nows not-“

“OH, YOU TRYNA TUNE ME OUT BY COVERIN’ YOUR EARS NOW?!” Another explosion. Bakugou’s gauntlets had been out for repairs since his last hero training, so (Y/n) could clearly see the glowing red and yellow spark from his fist. The ringing spiked again. His vision burned with sparks.

(Y/n) winced, saying nothing, and brought his hands to rub at his eyes. Bakugou eyebrow twitched.

“STOP IGNORING ME!”

Bakugou brought his hand out, his gloved hand starting to glow red with his next explosion. (Y/n) couldn’t take it anymore.

He stumbled forward, and grabbed Bakugou’s wrist. He shoved it out of the way, but his hand still ignited and set off a blast that propelled them straight to the ground.

“G-get off-a me!” Bakugou tried pushing (Y/n) off with his free hand.

(Y/n) pinned Bakugou’s glowing right hand by the wrist, using his other to hold down his other shoulder. (Y/n) would’ve never done something as ballsy and stupid as this, but he was too tired, too done, too much in pain to care.

“What are you actually trying to say!? All that stupid extra yelling and petty insults, they get you fucking nowhere! Spit it out! Or does trying to intimidate every single fucking person you meet just self-satisfaction?!”

Bakugou growled. He grabbed at (Y/n’s) shoulders, pushing off of him and pinning (Y/n) to the ground in his place.

“Then what about you, huh?!” Bakugou was angrily spitting at (Y/n’s) face. “Why the fuck did you stop getting enough sleep for your quirk?! Are you just that dumb that you stay up at night?!”

“I don’t wanna hear it from a stupid fucker like you, who can’t even take care of himself!”

(Y/n) hissed. He freed his dominant hand from Bakugou’s vice grip and pushed at Bakugou’s face, grabbing a fistful of his hair. “All you ever do is shit talk! Shut up! No one thinks it’s fucking cool!”

“What the hell are you even talking about?!”

The two wrestled on the ground, angrily grabbing and tugging at each other, and rolling around on the floor. There were shouts of “get Aizawa-no, get midnight-sensei!” and “All might, stop them!”, but the two were so caught up in their fight they couldn’t hear anything.

“Can’t you ever learn to mind your fucking Business?!”

“What the fuck does that even have to do with this!”

(Y/n) flipped Bakugou over one more time. He pushed him down by the forehead, pushing his head down into the ground while Bakugou flailed and kicked from underneath him.

“SHUT UP! WHY DO YOU EVEN FUCKIN’ CARE, BAKUGOU?! WHY DO...w-why do...wh...”

A sweet, sweet smell flooded (Y/n’s) senses. It smelt relaxing, tantalizing, it smelled like sleep. It smelled like sleep. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep so bad. Maybe he could just...

(Y/n) slowly sank from his spot on top of Bakugou, flopping on top of his body and going completely slack. Bakugou’s eyes widened, and he covered his nose.

Midnight strutted from above the two, waving away a few stray wisps of her mist. Bakugou hacked out a new breath, while (Y/n) laid on top of him, peacefully asleep for the first time in days.

“Well, it seems like you two already know without me saying it.” Midnight motioned over to two small robots carrying a stretcher. “I’ll just take him to recovery girl and he should wake up in-“

Bakugou pursed his lips and wrapped his arms around (Y/n’s) sleeping figure when Midnight extended her arm towards them. He tightened his arms around (Y/n).

“I’ll do it. S-since this piece of shit attacked me first and...I’ll just do it-!”

Midnight eyed him knowingly, before waving him off and mumbling something about ‘youth’.

——

(Y/n’s) eyes fluttered open. His body felt like it was broken in every way possible. It was so sore, it hurt even thinking about moving. (Y/n) laid there, with his eyes half open, contemplating whether or not he should close them again.

Would he be able to sleep, though? Even if he’d started sleeping near Bakugou as a ‘don’t-wake-me-up’ measure, it slowly stopped being just that and more a matter of he felt safe and comfortable around him. In a way, he’s become a bit dependent on him, which is probably a bad thing, but he didn’t care.

Sleeping with Bakugou felt best. But that wasn’t an option, now was it?

(Y/n) pursed his lips, an involuntary groan rumbling from his tired vocal cords. He continued staring at the blinding nurse office lights, staring until he saw spots in his vision.

“Stop doing that-do you wanna go fuckin’ blind?”

(Y/n) flinched. He hated the way that familiar, aggravated voice still stirred butterflies into his stomach. He glanced to his side, as if to make sure he wasn’t just hearing things.

He met eyes with Bakugou.

“Bout’ time you fuckin’ woke up. Been waitin’ forever, shit-for-brains.”

(Y/n) averted his eyes back up to the blinding floodlights. Bakugou scowled. “Oi! Don’t ignore m-“

“How long were you here for?”

Bakugou went silent. It was his turn to avert his eyes, albeit more angrily.

“...I was here since you fuckin’ fainted in class, idiot. I even carried your stupid body here from the dumbass carrier bots.”

(Y/n’s) eyes softened, unlike Bakugou’s, who glared at the floor just beside the chair he was sitting in. (Y/n) checked the big black clock mounted on top of Recovery Girl’s desk.

It was 6:00 pm.

If Bakugou was telling the truth, he’d been sitting there waiting for him to wake up for 4 hours straight.

“Bakugou-its been hours since class ended-you should be at the dorms by now-! Why did you-“

“Well if you told me why you suddenly started avoiding me we wouldn’t be here right now!”

(Y/n) let his mouth fall closed. Bakugou scoffed. “Well?!”

(Y/n) opened his mouth, but it clamped shut when Monoma’s words echoed in his mind. Bakugou looked at him with an expectant face.

“I can’t tell you.”

“WH-“ Bakugou sputtered angrily. “COURSE YOU CAN! THE FUCKS STOPPING YOU!”

“Nothing I-I just can’t!”

“WHY!? WHY NOT?!”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

“OK AND?! I LOVE YOU TOO!”

“THEN WHATS THE PROBLEM HERE!” (Y/n) shouted, before he cupped his mouth in realization. Bakugou’s eyes went wide aswell. “Wait I didn’t mean that-“

“YEAH! WHATS THE FUCKIN PROBLEM HERE?!” Bakugou recovered from his initial shock, already back to yelling. (Y/n) furrowed his brows with a blush.

“Wh..wait so-“

“I LIKE YOU, YOU LIKE ME, SO WHY THE FUCK DID YOU STOP SLEEPING ON ME?!”

“Wait but...” (Y/n’s) voice was barely above a whisper. “Don’t you, y’know...not like it...when I do that-?”

“DUMBASS! WHERE’D YOU GET THAT FROM?!” It seemed like Bakugou got angrier and angrier each passing second. It was hard to tell what (Y/n) found so attractive about him.

“From...from Monoma...?”

Bakugou looked angrier than ever. (Y/n) raised an eyebrow. “YOU-I CAN’T BELIEVE-! I-! FUCK IT!”

Bakugou snarled and practically shoved his face onto (Y/n’s), angrily stealing his breath away with a kiss. The kiss, surprisingly, was soft and gentle, despite Bakugou’s previous intensity. It seemed to calm Bakugou down, and cheer (Y/n) up.

The two slowly parted for air. It was quiet for a second, something that rarely happened near Bakugou.

“I thought you hated me...”

“W-why the fuck would I hate you...dumbass.” Bakugou rested his forehead on (Y/n’s) shoulder. His spiky tufts of blond hair tickling (Y/n’s) face.

“Because Monoma said so...?”

“I’m gonna kill that bastard.” Bakugou snarled, climbing into the cot (Y/n) was in. He pushed (Y/n) back down into the pillow, pulling up the white blanket and laying down next to him. He guided (Y/n’s) head-a tad bit forcefully-to his chest. “...after we sleep.”

Bakugou shut his eyes, half irritated and half embarrassed, while (Y/n) chuckled tiredly. He nuzzled his head into Bakugou’s chest.

“Goodnight, Bakugou.”

——

Extra:

Monoma walked into class 1-B the next morning. He yawned, still a bit tired, when he ran straight into someone.

“Hey, copycat fucker.”

Monoma looked up. The class was empty, with no one but Bakugou standing infront of him.

Fuck.

Needless to say, Bakugou got another 3 days of house arrest.

——————

Bru this was so long ong

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 22/?

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (Your best friend's name)

We're back, we're in full swing, we've hit like 50 followers, we've hit 500 notes. We're thriving.

Also! Fun fact but I can't actually watch Young Justice season 3 (and 4) or Titans :/ They're on DC Universe, which is only available in America. (If you can't catch on, I'm not from America lol)

Warnings: Swearing, Description of Injury, Kidnapping, Police/ Justice System, Manipulation attempts, Gaslighting, Violence, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20) (Part 21) (Part 22)

The days became longer and kept bothering Y/N. She was losing grip on reality. Aria would come in occasionally and feed her. Give her water. Let her use the bathroom. She was stuck. She wanted to knock off that stupid fucking bird plague doctor mask and, look her pathetic sister in her eyes. And let Aria know that she knew, she knew who it was.

But she was backed into a corner. And the mask was not going to come off anytime. Boy, oh boy, she wanted it to fall. She wanted it to slip so she could boot it into the walls she had become accustomed to. She wanted it to fall and shatter.

Aria came into the room like normal, to be greeted by Y/N not even looking her in the eyes.

"Come here, love," Aria said.

"Go to Hell."

"I need to use you for a "Proof of Life" video. So I can use you for ransom. Come here."

"No."

"Come here. Now," Aria said, voice getting more hoarse and pissed off with Y/N and her actions.

"No."

"Come. Here. Now!" She screeched.

"No!"

She felt Aria's claws grab her wrists and dig in, she could feel the blood seeping through the claws from her wrists. Aria pushed her into the wall, still gripping her wrists and letting the blood flow down Y/N's arms.

"Listen here, you fucking bitch," Aria said, dropping her voice a few octaves, to seem intimidating. "I want that money. If you don't cooperate, I'll kill you."

Y/N whimpered but spat at her sister, "You'll fucking die trying."

Aria wrestled Y/N into her seat and handcuffed her to it. She then set up the video camera.

"And, recording. Talk."

"I fucking hate you."

"You should."

"Go to fucking Hell."

"The date is February 14th. Here," she shoved a newspaper into the view of the camera, Y/N didn't even notice Aria bring it in. She saw the article on the back of her kidnapping. She knew people were still talking.

"Here is the date. On a newspaper. This video will be released today. If I don't get the money within a week, I'll kill her. Along with the Waynes."

Y/N gulped. This just got so much more real than she was expecting.

Aria left the room, with Y/N still handcuffed to the chair. She took in the room she had become used to. She had spent a week in captivity, expecting the vigilantes of Gotham to come and get them, but they didn't. She was confused as to why-

Wait a damn minute, she thought. Are you- Wait- Wait- Wait- Wait. Oh my god? The family is in captivity, the vigilantes haven't come for us yet, are- she paused. Are they the vigilantes? There's no way, they can't be- Can they? They can- Can't they, huh? Fuck. We're- We're not getting out anytime soon. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This is a God damn pickle we've gotten into. Aria must know what I think, the family- she paused, almost as if she didn't believe what she was thinking. That they're the Gotham vigilantes. She must- Fuck!

I don't care that they didn't tell me- she thought like someone could read her thoughts. She figured that someone might be able to. She knew that Martian Manhunter had those abilities. she figured that Miss Martian, who she didn't see often, likely shared those abilities.

I care that we might be fucked.

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

Before she knew it, that exact day, she figured, February 14th? The door was broken down by Superman. This just put the pieces together more for Y/N. Her assumptions about the Waynes being the Gotham vigilantes were just seeming more likely as time went on.

Superman uncuffed her and she thanked him before running out to where Aria was being arrested by the Gotham police. But she didn't stop, and she knocked off Aria's mask.

"Oh, hi Y/N," Aria said, nonchalantly.

"Oh, hi Y/N," Y/N mocked. "You fucking bitch!" she yelled and pushed Aria, while the police tried to detain her. She struggled and tried to attack Aria further, "Let go! I know her power of attorney is going to be her sister-"

"How do you know that?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

"Because her sister is me!" She yelled when she finally broke away from the police, trying to get closer to Aria, before Commissioner Gordon stopped her, grabbing her arms and squeezing lightly. She stared at him, dead-faced. No emotions were there, other than anger, raw, seething anger.

Aria laughed, "Oops. I guess the jig is up."

Y/N was seething, she didn't even notice the JLA and the rest of the Waynes were behind her. She was still struggling to get towards Aria, yelling and just making noise.

She was making a scene, but she didn't care. She felt betrayed.

"You fucking bitch. You absolutely pathetic piece of shit."

"Keep yelling at me, Y/N. Mom and Dad will be disappointed in you. They always are, aren't they?"

Y/N turned to Commissioner Gordon, who was still holding her in place, "You either get her out of my fucking face in 5 seconds or I'm going to hurt her. That's not a threat," she turned to Aria, "That's a fucking promise."

"We might have to detain you at this rate, Y/N."

"And I would understand that, but I'm going to hurt her."

"Ma'am, calm down." Commissioner Gordon said before waving his hand and the other police took Aria into the back of a police car. "I'm going to have to arrest you," he said, trying to show sympathy for the pain that Y/N was in.

"Then do it already," Y/N mumbled, eyes still locked on the police car her sister was in.

"Gordon?" Jason called, "I swear, I've never seen this much anger in her. I'm sure you can send her home with us."

"You better be right about that, Jason."

"I really think I am right."

Gordon looked at Y/N, which she caught in the corner of her eye. She could tell he was upset about this, he was trying to get to her, to get her to understand her anger was okay, but beating her sister wasn't.

And then Aria waved as they drove her to the station.

But she wasn't even paying attention and before she knew it, she was in Jason's arms. He was holding her while talking to the police about the attack. He had his hands wrapped around her waist while he was behind her, maximizing the ability he had to stop her should she run.

He knew what he was doing, and it was working to calm her slightly, to the point where the police were able to talk to her about her experience with the attacker they knew as Hour, or as Arianna (Last name).

Once they were done with questioning her, they spoke more to Jason, who still had her in his grasp.

She surveyed the area and noticed that Bruce was talking to Superman.

The pieces were all falling into place. She knew he had to be Batman at that moment.

And she wanted in on it.

The hopelessness she felt when Aria had her kidnapped was astronomical. She wanted to make sure no one ever felt that way again, not if she could help it. She wanted in on it all.

She thought back to Jason's stab wound, the scar still fresh. She knew it wasn't a mugging. It had to be him saving the city from peril. She realized how dumb she was for buying into that lie, but she wasn't mad at anyone in her vicinity.

She was mad- pissed- so far beyond angry at Aria.

She didn't know she could be so angry. She didn't know she had it in her to be so angry at Aria. But she was. She was so unbelievably pissed. Any mention of her name sent Y/N into seething anger, and Jason could feel her heart race in her body.

She wasn't paying attention to words anymore. She just wanted to get out of there, to go home. To her home, not Jason's. She didn't feel safe in the Wayne Manor anymore.

No one could blame her when she told the police to drive her to her house, not the Wayne Manor. Jason just hugged her and asked when he could see her next. She told him in the morning. "Or," she added, "At 3 in the morning. I don't care. Just leave me alone right now."

Everyone understood. They didn't have their own sister kidnap them after all.

She got to her house and got inside, A/N immediately trying to flag her down to talk to her, but she just put up a hand and waved her off. Slinking to her room without a second thought and locking the door.

She didn't want to talk about it. The thoughts about her sister racing through her mind. The thoughts about how her boyfriend was a vigilante. How was she going to bring this up? How was she going to tell him that she knew? That she wanted in on the act? That she wanted to fight alongside him- and his family?

Before she knew it, and like clockwork, it was 3 in the morning. And Jason was knocking on her window. She assumed that he had tried to let himself into her room, but to no avail since she hadn't unlocked the door.

She went over to her window and unlocked it. She lifted it and Jason crawled in.

"I have a front door," she said.

"You didn't answer when I tried to knock on your door," he joked. "How are you holding up?"

"As well as anyone can in my situation."

"Well, everyone wishes you came home with us, so we could watch you on your first night away from-"

"From my sister?"

"I was going to say from captivity."

"So, my sister."

"Yeah, that."

"Uh-huh."

"So, anyway," Jason said, trying to get Y/N's mind off of Aria. "Did you sleep when you got here?" he asked.

"No. I was busy."

"Doing what?"

"Lost in thought. There's a lot of thoughts, not enough brain," she joked. "You probably get that part."

"I do-"

"When were you going to tell me?" she but in.

"Tell you what?" he questioned, confused.

"That you're one of the vigilantes," she answered, studying his face. He seemed taken aback by the statement and tried to avert her gaze. Oh yeah, he knows what I'm on about, she thought.

"I-"

"You know what I'm on about, Jay. You know I know so don't lie anymore."

"Y/N-"

"No. You know I know. I know you know. Don't lie anymore. I'm not even ad at the lies, you're trying to keep me safe, obviously."

"Oh."

"The truth is, babe, I want in."

"What!?"

(Oh my god? Are we going to get Red Hood action? (The answer is yes, in due time)

[harpyloon]

“ginny, i always want to sleep with you” // hinny

Pairing: Harry Potter x Ginny Weasley

W.C: 2.5k+

Summary: Harry Potter is always a blubbering mess when it comes to Ginerva Weasley.

Warnings: pure fluff! sprinkles of angsty angst, squint and you’ll find mentions of war/battle and death. everybody lives AU!

A/N: A fic written for the @harryandginuary Ginuary gift challenge. Happy Ginuary @/gins-potter​ 😍😍😍I hope you ENJOY!!!

Read on AO3

Harry didn't think this through.

After defeating the Dark Lord and winning a wizarding war, he assumed he'd never have to think about anything ever again—at least not for a while. But gazing at her small blinking dot for almost half a year on a rotten piece of parchment apparently made him delusional, because at the moment—months after the battle of Hogwarts—sitting in the kitchen at the Burrow, his longing stare almost bore a hole through Ginny Weasley's face.

His Ginny.

Wincing to himself, Harry prodded on the peas in his plate. His subconscious when it came to Ginny was his greatest enemy and his biggest embarrassment. If anyone even came close to guessing what kind of dreams he had when it came to her... well... He breathed away the flush threatening to creep up his neck.

"More peas, Harry dear?"

Mrs. Weasley peered at him from the head of the table, a frown on her freckled face, "You've hardly eaten anything. Don't think I've noticed how skinny you've been getting again. I'd be having a word with Alastor about your Auror training. Ever since he got back he's been more insufferable—"

Snatching the dish of treacle tart in front of him, Harry filled his plate with a slice.

"I'm up for dessert now actually, Mrs. Weasley, thanks."

This seemed to satisfy her well enough. "Well, I whipped that up just for you so eat up."

He felt a nudge on his knee as Ron leaned in to whisper once Mrs. Weasley was out of earshot, "Save me some, will you? She goes barmy when we touch your treacle tart."

Harry smiled and nodded. Meals at the Burrow he was used to but he knew he'd never get tired of. His Auror training held him back a ton of weekends in the past few months, and being home felt splendid. Of course, he was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but Harry hoped Mr. & Mrs. Weasley knew how grateful he was.

Risking a glance across the table once again, Harry saw Ginny serving herself second helpings of mash. Her favorite, Harry thought. He remembered her hating Madame Pudifoodt's Tea Shop for its lack of savory spreads, the one time they attempted a visit during his sixth year. It ended up turning into a laugh as she snorted at all the snogging instead of actually drinking tea.

"So this is your kind of place, huh?" Ginny teased as she sifted through the menu.

Harry blushed, "Er—you don't like it? I kind of reckoned girls like this place..."

He chuckled nervously as she gave him a pointed look.

"Really, Potter?"

Breathing out a sigh of relief, he snatched the menu away from her, already standing.

"Three Broomsticks then?"

He knew he'd buy her all the Butterbeers in the world for the smile he earned.

A foot prodded Harry back to the present.

"What, Ron?" he grumbled.

Ron frowned at him. "What'd you mean 'what'"?

"You just—"

Someone coughed loudly across from them.

Both turning, they saw Ginny heaving over her mash, a fist in her mouth. Fred was rubbing her back soothingly beside her.

Harry blinked. It was her. She kicked him.

"Alright there, Gin?" Fred mused. "I told you to take it easy on the potatoes, you crazy woman."

"Do the Harpies know what kind of stomach they'll be feeding once they sign you in?" said George. "I bet you they'll break a sweat once they find out your appetite."

Ginny threw George a withering look after downing a glass of water. "Don't jinx it, you idiot."

"Have you heard back yet, Gin?" Ron asked over a mouth full of pudding.

"More like they haven't heard from Ginny," chuckled Hermione.

All the Weasley brothers gaped. Even Harry.

"What?" sputtered George, "You're making the Holyhead Harpies wait?"

The youngest Weasley scoffed. "I'm not making anyone wait. I was just standing by for the holidays before I give a reply."

"Well, it's the holidays now."

Ginny rolled her eyes and Harry's gut clenched. The mad part of his brain loved it when she did that.

"I am well aware," she said, "If you all are so eager, does anyone want to take my place then?"

Her brothers merely grumbled while Hermione laughed. It's been the talk of the town for a while now, after Ginny received a letter from the Harpies a few months after the beginning of her seventh year. The whole house went completely ballistic, even Hogwarts as well—or so Harry heard.

It took a month to bury the dead from battle and a whole summer to rebuild Hogwarts from the rubble; the Ministry was still in the process of rehabilitation, and the whole wizarding community was yet to heal, licking the wounds that Voldemort left behind. Ginny's Quidditch scouting was the first good news they'd received in a long time.

He didn't get back together with Ginny after the war, and there was no reunion like he'd always imagined in those long nights without her, in search for the Horcruxes. It wasn't as if they both avoided it, there just wasn't any time—time to talk, time alone, time for anything. Everyone had their hands full following the battle, and when things started to fall back into place, they've simply slipped through each other's fingers; Ginny whisked away by the Hogwarts Express, and Harry to the Ministry to begin his training as an Auror.

He considered moving on, especially on days when he'd think about her roaming the halls of Hogwarts, her fiery red hair blazing after her. She'd find someone, he thought bitterly. If she hasn't already.

But they'd written to each other, sparingly, although they did still. Short snippets of their day, what they ate for breakfast, the new set of professors at school, Mad-Eye's torturous lessons; Harry was the first person outside the castle to find out about her Harpies letter.

He caught her eye from across the table and she raised a brow at him as if to say What, Potter?

Chuckling under his breath, Harry shook his head and tapped the bowl of uneaten mash beside his plate. He saved it for her.

Ginny's gaze landed on it and her face lit up. If Harry didn't know any better, her hair seemed to glow even redder. His imagination loved to exaggerate his visuals when it came to her.

He felt a tiny poke on his toe as if to warn him not to react violently—she gave him a look and he pursed his lips, looking back down at his peas and moving them around once again. Then slowly, an ankle wrapped itself around one of his own and rested there.

Harry exhaled slowly, willing his pulse to calm.

He was not over Ginny Weasley at all. Not one bit.

 ----------✿----------

Creeping quietly down the steps, Harry tried his best to avoid the noisy floorboards (that he still didn't memorize to save his life). His two best friends didn't mention anything, but he knew they wanted some alone time. And he certainly didn't want to be around once the candles dimmed and Ron and Hermione started making eyes at each other.

He was almost at the first landing when the door to his left creaked open.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry. It’s me."

Ginny opened the door wider, gazing up at Harry, her face bemused. She was dressed for bed. "They kicked you out already?"

Laughing quietly, he said, “You know they’d never. I volunteered.”

She smiled knowingly. “Of course you did. Well, come on in then.”

Harry stared at her retreating form, clearly confused.

In? In where? In her room? Just the two of them?

Ginny disappeared inside but the door remained open.

Should he knock and ask her what she meant? Should he just go inside? It's not like he hasn't before.

Suddenly, the most recent memory of Ginny's room flashed through his consciousness—his 17th birthday.

"Something to remember me by."

Harry's ears grew hot. He refused to let that specific recollection surface when he wasn't alone, or in the confines of his own quarters. It made his brain go fuzzy.

"Harry?" he heard Ginny's faint voice from inside, then footsteps. She appeared by the door once again. When she saw his face, her brows furrowed. "What happened?"

Harry attempted to clear his throat without sounding like a retching toad. "Er—I'm—" he was sure his face was now as red as her hair, "I was going to take the couch actually," he managed weakly.

"The couch," Ginny said flatly.

He swallowed. "Y-yeah. Downstairs."

The silence was deafening and it stretched on for minutes. Or at least that's what it felt like in Harry's rowdy head. He needed to meditate. Merlin. He was losing it.

Finally, she said, "Okay. Goodnight then."

She gave him a strained smile then quietly shut the door before he could reply.

Harry stood there, mouth hanging open slightly.

Ginny Weasley just invited him inside her bedroom and he refused. He refused. Of all the things in the world that made him a blubbering idiot, it was his best friend's little sister. He always seemed to be dumbfounded whenever she was in the vicinity of his space.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself as he descended the stairs, no longer bothering to mask his footsteps. "Idiot, idiot, idiot."

Harry sulked his way to the living room, his mood most definitely dismal. Girls were a nightmare. He had no idea how their brains ever worked and every time he felt like he finally had a grasp at a situation, he was suddenly ten steps back.

He waved his wand mindlessly over the Weasley's tweed couch and leaned by the fireplace as he watched it transform into a small sofa bed.

Would he wake anyone if he flooed Sirius at this hour? He knew his godfather would still be up at Grimmauld Place, and would doubtlessly jinx him between the eyes if he found out what Harry had just done.

"You're just like James," he heard Sirius' voice say in his head. He never seemed to let this fact go, even when he knew that Harry was well aware of how he was a spitting image of his father. Sirius especially loved to point this out when it came to matters about Ginny.

"Dad actually ended up with Mum didn't he, Sirius," Harry growled under his breath as he settled on his makeshift bed, patting his pillow down with more force than necessary. He was in the mood for a petty fight and he wished his godfather was around for one.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps thumping down the stairs. Harry jostled into a sleeping position at once and took off his glasses, planting himself still in the awful case that Mrs. Weasley found him huddled on their living room couch. She wouldn't have the heart to wake him would she? He didn't want her causing a scene with Ron and Hermione. Harry tried as best as he could to look as wasted as possible, even attempting at a snore.

The footsteps came nearer, and he felt them stop by the door of the living room. He tried to even his breathing.

"Really?"

His eyes shot open.

Sitting up suddenly, he found Ginny standing by the doorway, her arms crossed. Only the dim moonlight illuminated the room, and Harry had to squint before he remembered he took off his glasses. His hands fumbled as he perched them back on, his eyes meeting Ginny's vexed gaze.

"Ginny," he said lamely.

"Are you seeing someone?"

"What?"

Her hair glowed in the dark space, like a warm halo around her head.

"You heard me."

Harry's pulse seemed to be skyrocketing. "Seeing someone? I don— no. No. I'm not seeing anybody at all."

Ginny looked skeptical. "Right."

Almost tripping over his own slippers, Harry barely managed to scramble to his feet in front of the only girl who plagued his dreams. He wanted to embrace her. Could he do that? Was he allowed to, still?

"Ginerva," he was breathless. "You have no idea..." Harry tried to calm his racing heart. Just get the words out, idiot. "You have no idea how much I think about you."

Her eyes gave nothing away as she looked up at him, and only her crossed arms kept the space between them. Harry saw tendrils of her hair stir as he exhaled. He wanted to kiss her.

When she said nothing, he lifted his hand experimentally, waiting for her to flinch or back away. Not sensing rejection yet, Harry trailed his fingers through the wisps of hair by her ear. He could smell her. He held himself from inhaling too deeply.

"Different shampoo?" he murmured.

Ginny sniffed, "Mum tried a different witch brand."

"Hmmm. Jasmine was my favorite."

She rolled her eyes. "I know."

Harry threaded his fingers through her hair, brushing her scalp now, and Ginny leaned into his touch.

He smiled. "But I like this one too."

"We should just share shampoos."

"Good idea."

They were silent for a moment. Just listening to each other breathing while Harry combed his fingers through Ginny's soft hair. The ends were still damp, he noticed.

"I missed you," she said suddenly, quietly. Her eyes were roaming all over his face as if gauging his reaction.

"I missed you too."

"But you don't want to sleep with me."

Harry's cheeks turned pink in the dark as he breathed out a laughed. "Ginny, I always want to sleep with you."

"I meant sleep sleep, you perv!" she pinched his stomach.

Trying to stifle his chuckle so as not to wake the rest of the house, he drew her in, finally bracketing her in his arms. "Ah, well, I mean that too, I guess."

Ginny huffed but melted with his touch. "I will have you know that I've turned down suitors for you, Harry Potter. So if you won't stake your claim, then I'd better take one of them up on their offers."

Harry's gaze narrowed. "Will you, now?"

"Watch me. Apparently, I'm quite popular with the Hufflepuffs—"

He leaned in lightning-quick, aiming for her luscious mouth. She expected it because her eyes closed in instinct, waiting for him to seal the connection. But Harry hovered. He felt the feathered touch of her lips on his but he stayed there, eyes open—trailing over her closed lids, the bridge of her nose, and the aggressive spread of freckles over the expanse of her cheeks.

"May I kiss you?" he asked against her lips.

Ginny's eyes blinked open but she didn't pull away. "Since when have you started asking?"

Harry was glad they were so close that she wouldn't be able to see his neck flush. "Since I let you go once."

This time, she did pull away, but only a tiny fraction. Just enough for him to witness her wrinkle her nose. "So saving the world has made you a complete sap."

She was teasing.

He shrugged, but grinned sheepishly nonetheless, "For you, yeah. I always have been though, haven't I?"

Twirling her arms around his neck and brushing her fingers through his unruly hair, Ginny pressed herself against Harry fully, her face shining with emotion.

"Then snog the living daylights out of me, Harry Potter."

[kurooisdbest]

nickname: carri

men: iwaizumi, tsukishima, konoha

number: 11

TSYM!!!

heyyy Carri! PLS DONT HATE ME IM SORRY IF ITS SUUUPER LATE BUT Thank you for participating hihi🥺

here are your results !

Tsukishima (Friends)

Iwaizumi (Acquaintances)

Konoha (Engaged)

TSUKISHIMA

Your friendship with Tsukishima started when you became a manager for the Karasuno VBC together and withYachi

You were already close with the other 1st years but Tsukishima was a tougher nut to crack

he was always cocky and standoffish, and that ticked you off but you being you, you got used to it and began learning how to bark back at him.

Thus, your battle of insults would turn into a tackling sessions (he was surprised how fast and strong you were, being able to attack him like a predator pouncing on its prey. Little did he know you grew up in a house with three older brothers making you a professional in wrestling matches *for the sake of the story let’s just say u have brothers hehe*), and of course would result to the both of you being lectured by Daichi and Suga

With Daichi getting impatient with the two of you, he always punished the both of you with penalty laps. A day never went by without the both of you running around the gym. Daichi was pleased with the result but he would never admit that. He saw how you and Tsukishima became closer, what began in endless bickering evolved into small chit chats, and he was a proud dad

Your friendship with Tsukishima became one of the most valued relationships you have until present;

It was the end of the MSBY vs Adlers match, and you, together with your batchmates decided to drink after to catch up with one another.

“Tsukiiiiiiiiiii come on pls I’m strong now!” you pouted at your best friend, begging him to allow you to drink.

He knew you were a lightweight, you all discovered that during one of Kuroo and Bokuto’s afterparty, when he had to carry you home after finding you passed out in the corner. Thus, he made you swear to drink only when he or the other boys were around.

His nose scrunched at your incessant begging and groaned, knowing he could never win over you. “Fine since your so ‘strong’” he made sure to make air quotes before continuing. “bring your ass back home on your own.” he deadpanned. You smiled at him brightly before linking your arms with him, dragging him to the bar.

It’s been so long since you guys got together like this. So much untold stories from Hinata’s trip to Brazil, Making fun of Kageyama’s awkward commercials, and of course the story of how Yamaguchi and Yachi got together.

As much as Tsukishima protested, he couldn’t deny that he missed hanging out like this. So much has changed in a small amount of time… except for one.

You were drinking to your heart’s content, naive of the consequences you were about to face the next day. He laughed at the drooling mess beside him and sighed. He brushed the stray hair on your face and smiled.

“I forgot to ask!” Hinata shouted from the other side of the table. “Have you ever confessed t-“ he was cut by Kageyama’s hand covering his mouth. Tsukishima glared at the ginger headed male before standing up. “We’ll be going first.” He dragged your body to stand, before carrying you on his back.

Your head rested on his shoulder as he carried you to his car. The smell of his cologne made your lips curl into a smile before nuzzling your head on his neck. “Thank you, Tsukki. i wuv yyyuuuuuu!!! youuur the bestttt” your words slurred before fully passing out. He clicked his tongue and chuckled lightly. “You’re a pain in the ass you know that?” he looked back at you, seeing how peaceful you were, letting out soft snores, before letting a smile adorn on his face.

IWAIZUMI

You recently moved from Tokyo after your father was reassigned to work in Miyagi

Being an alumnus of Aoba Johsai, he enrolled you there for your third year

Everything was going smooth. Your movers arrived on time, you easily unpacked your furniture, and you had everything you needed to face the new environment you were about to enter

However, what your father forgot to mention was that Aoba Johsai was HUGE

Hence, what would a new transferee like yourself have to go through? of course, Get lost i the vicinity

You applauded yourself mentally for thinking ahead and left for school early or else you would be late on your first day

After dozens of twists and turns you finally reached your classroom

Your homeroom teacher entered and instructed you to introduce yourself in front of the class “Hi, My name is l/n y/n. I transferred here from Nekoma. I hope we could get along.” you ended your introduction with a bow before returning to your seat.

“Thank you. L/n and Iwaizumi, I would like to speak to you both after class.” He stated before continuing with his announcements.

You didn’t know anyone in your school and you couldn’t help but wonder what your teacher wanted to talk to you about with Iwaizumi.

After class, you turn your head to where Iwaizumi was seated to see him asleep on his desk.

“Iwaizumi-san?” you poked his shoulder, trying to wake him up. Take note of the word: “Trying” because it seemed like you wouldn’t succeed with just a mere poke.

He must’ve been tired for him to fall asleep like this. Having no choice, you grabbed both of his shoulders and started shaking him. His body jolted and raised his head from the desk and gave you a confused look. You simply smiled at his reaction and told him how both of you were instructed to meet with your professor after class.

His cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment for forgetting and for making you wake him up.

In the office, your teacher told Iwaizumi to show you around campus so that you wouldn’t have to get lost next time.

You tried to decline, feeling guilty for making Iwaizumi show you around but despite your attempts to politely decline, Iwaizumi faced you and gave you a gentle smile. “It’s alright. I don’t have practice today anyway. Come on.” He turned his back and walked toward the exit.

However, you were glued there and couldn’t utter a word. You suddenly feel a hand grab yours and pulled you along.

When the both of you exited the office, Iwaizumi let go of your hand and walked ahead, glancing back at you every once in a while to make sure you were following him.

He walked by your side and toured you around the school, telling you facts and what he called “survival” tips. (Tip#1: Never fall for Oikawa. Who was that? you didn’t know. What does it have to do with you? again, you didn’t know fjsjbfjd)

sometimes your hands brush against each other and sometimes he would put an arm around your shoulder bringing you closer when you pass through places with huge crowds.

He explained to you that he didn’t want you to get lost and you let him continue because somehow… even if it’s just your first day, you might just have made your first (crush) friend

KONOHA

You had been together with Konoha for almost 6 years now. A relationship which bloomed and nurtured from middle school until high school

Despite being a year younger than him, his childish antics proved that maybe, just maybe, you were older than him in terms of maturity

He begged you to become a manager right after you became a 1st year in Fukurodani and not missing a chance to spend time with your boyfriend, you agreed.

Both of you were busy with Finals and the volleyball competitions ahead but that didn’t stop you from spending time with your boyfriend. You’re relationship was past the point of fussing over the small issues. You both were in sync with one another and the both of you learned how to handle problems that would occasionally arise.

Everything became a routine. You would spend your breaks with Konoha and the volleyball team, study after classes before training starts, and walk home together after trainings.

Although lately, you’ve been spending time with each other less. Sure, you and Konoha would study in the library together but that was it. You wondered why he would suddenly bail on you without a word, you wondered why he insisted on letting you go home first, and why he would reply late to your texts.

You understood that maybe he was just busy but the stress you were feeling about school was starting to take its toll on you

Your emotions began to heighten. You were feeling lonely and sad, realizing that maybe the spark between you and your boyfriend was slowly fading. That maybe he found someone better. You began feeling insecure, letting your mind wander over every possible scenario about what would happen next. Is this really how your love will end?

You began to shut out everyone. You barely replied to Konoha, you spoke only in a few sentences, and at times, you couldn’t even spare him a glance.

You didn’t want anyone to think you were petty so you opted to keep everything to yourself. It didn’t bother you anymore that you were spending less and less time with Konoha. Instead of feeling hurt, you felt numb.

Little did you know everything was about to change

“l/n-san.” Fukorodani’s setter and your best friend, Akaashi tapped your shoulder. “Hm?” you answered while continuing your homework on the bench without looking at him. “l/n-san.” he repeated. You dropped your pencil to look at him. “Yes?”

“Konoha-san…” he trailed off. “Huh? What happened to Akinori?” you deadpanned. “He fainted. He’s in the infirma-” you rushed to the infirmary, cutting Akaashi off mid-sentence. A surge of concern suddenly filled you and your heart began beating rapidly.

Upon reaching the infirmary door, you slid it open only to notice the lights turned off. You flicked it on and saw no one at the desk. You entered slowly and walked further into the room, scanning the beds, looking for Konoha. At the end of the room, there you saw him. Sitting down, staring at the wall in front of him.

He didn’t seem to notice you enter as you sat yourself down beside him. “Hey Akaashi told me you fainted. Are you okay?” you hesitantly placed your hand on his. “Are you mad at me?” he whispered, eyes still on the wall. “I wouldn’t say I was mad… maybe a little hurt and I felt that you were shutting me out…I didn’t even know what you were up to… What’s up with you lately?” you answered.

“I’m sorry. I just…” he faced you and placed his free hand on your cheek, caressing it. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I was just busy, that’s all.” you leaned into his touch, unaware that you really did miss him. “It’s okay, I understand. What were you busy with? Maybe I could help…” you stared back at him. “I’m not sure if you could” he answered awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck. “I understand, excuse me” you stood up and feeling your eyes starting to tear up.

Suddenly, you felt upset. What could he be doing that even you couldn’t help with? You were about to turn the doorknob when you felt a familiar warmth grasp your wrist. “Babe…” you muttered, tears slowly streaming down your face. You faced him with your tear-stained face and smiled.

He felt guilty for having to tell you this way. He didn’t want to do it this way but he didn’t have any other choice. “Listen to me, okay?” He grabbed both of your cheeks in his hands, making you look at him. You stared at him and nodded.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you the for the past weeks… I wanted to surprise you that was all.” he cooed before releasing your cheeks. He rummaged something in his blazer and took out a small box. “This isn’t anything fancy but I’m graduating soon, and I have to wait a year before being in the same campus as you again. Y/n, I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. I loved you in the past, I love you in the present, and I will always love you in the future. Will you marry me?”

You couldn’t help but nod as the room filled with the sound of your sobs and your sniffles. Konoha hugged you tenderly and kissed you. “I love you” you replied.

a/n: hope u guys aren’t mad at me nfkshfk ily all thank you for always being patient AAAAAA posting updates for Ace of Cups soon :”>

*I have like other requests piled up in my ask box but i’ll try to get to you soon im sorry 😭

[seijohsfairy]

Anonymous

ahh!! all the nii-san posts are so good, but have you considered twin brother tobio who thinks your the only one for him

I have,, It has affected my sanity and rings in my head a hundred times a day. I hate it here. Truly. This became sorta really long? But I hope you enjoy (・´ｪ｀・)

tw incest, dubcon if you squint

The flashes of light are incessant, an obnoxious wave of noisy shutters filling the silence in between mutters and questions. Your fists around the bottom lining of your old jacket, denting the fabric under the light ministrations of your fingertips. It’s nerves, they still creep up from time to time when you feel the eyes. They linger, curious or accusatory ones alike. Another flash makes you blink, then it’s quiet. You take a breath at the same time he does, accidental, but of course you do. You’ve always mirrored him after all, even when you weren’t trying. Tobio holds the air until everything grows completely immovable, like still water in winter.

His eyebrows twitch slightly, before he speaks. “I am happy.” Simple, straightforward, you can’t help but let your smile shine through. He eyes the interviewer for a moment, before nodding. “We’ve all worked hard to prove we deserve a spot on the court, it was a good match and I’m happy with the outcome.” The interviewers quickly take notes, before another sea of flashes rains down on the curved panes of his face. It’s his standard post-match ramble, nothing new there, but you can see the spark of victory where it bends him in two and shatters at the fold. “And,” his eyes flick around across the small group of people.

They find yours. “My sister came to support us in the stands so I am very proud.” The deep blues rest on you like you’re the end of a war, his lips turning upwards at the sides. He is proud, of you, and you of him just as much. Or even more if possible, though you are quicker to lower your gaze at the attention. An interviewer to your side clears her voice, before clicking her pen a few times in rapid succession. The press irritates him, though he’s gotten very good at hiding it over the years. In this moment though, you can tell.

It’s written all over in the way he stands on balls of his feet, like he’s ready to sprint out. You wonder if he would reach for you before setting off, or if you’d have to chase him down the hall like another of the fans. Either way you wouldn’t be far behind, it’s just the nature of your relationship. The lads presses her ruby lips together. “When will you take another girlfriend to a game? You broke up with your last girlfriend in May, fans want to know if it is true that you are keeping your newest fling private.”

Ushijima gives you a little head tilt as he walks past, his cheeks coloured from exhaustion, towel still dangling around his neck. You return it. A few of the interviewers immediately turn their attention to him, snapping photos and calling out for him with an almost violent greediness, the small interaction not going unnoticed. You think you hear someone mention your name to him in the same line as ‘dating’, and Wakatoshi’s deep chuckle is comforting when he leads the bunch of them down the hall. Tobio is frowning when you turn back, at the woman with the high ponytail and red lips that shimmer under the artificial lighting.

“I would’ve kept all of it private if that could have been the end of it.” He raises a hand to brush some of his sweaty hair away from his face, before dropping his eyes to the floor. “I only bring the people precious to me to my games.” He does. He asks happily, over the phone like a giddy child, at the crack of dawn when he goes for his run. You’ve complained about it many times. He still does it though, because Tobio is nothing if not persistent. You only notice him moving because the people around you gasp and gawk, flinching away from him like he’s other. He is, too, a different breed entirely.

His long fingers are around your wrist, pulling you from behind the lenses to his side, tucked against his shoulder like a little parasite. That’s what you think you must look like when the flashing starts. Tobio’s arm wraps around your back and rests his chin on your head though, allowing you to fit right in his hold. Another one of his shiny trophies. His smile looks a little brighter from this angle. “My sister is the only one who has never missed a game of mine. If you want to report on anything, this is the person I am most grateful for in my life right now. I’m very lucky to have her support.”

It feels unreal. Someone calls out your name, the shutters get the noisiest they’ve been all day. It won’t be a headline in the making, you try to calm yourself, bowing at the same time Tobio does. He drops his hand to wrap around yours, and tugs you behind him. It’s straightforward, your brother always is. The violent banging against your rib cage is less so, but you’ve gotten used to it already.

///

“Why did you say all that stuff to those guys earlier? Were you not feeling too well?” Tobio looks up from where he’s putting his bag down, his eyes shooting up along your body. “You’re normally good at dealing with the press post-match.” You put the towel under the water, before turning back towards the main room of your apartment.

“What did I say that was wrong?” He tosses his sweaty shirt on the heap of jerseys and leggings to wash, picking up his towel and swinging it around his neck. You look down again, playing with the fluffy fabric as you approach.

“Nothing, Tobio. I just-” you linger at the couch, resting your hip against it, “you don’t normally egg on rumours about your dating life. It’ll be fine because it’s me, but if it were anyone else people might be cautious of your words. They really want a story on the details, you know. And I’m not really used to being next to you on pictures, it was a bit surprising, s’all.”

“I meant what I said.”

He closes the rest of the distance for you, standing toes to toes. You don’t look up until you can feel the soft puff of air on your head, where he lays a kiss. It feels warm, and good, and you bite your tongue when the pounding of your heart starts feeling painful against your chest. You duck away from it the second time, pushing his chin up with two fingers instead. Tobio smiles into his exhale, as you trace across his features with the wet towel. Brows, eyes, nose, under his chin and along the line of his throat. “Are you mad at me?” He drops his eyes back to yours when you frown, before tacking onto your slight frustration. “Or about the dating?”

“Tobio,” you mumble, pulling out of his vicinity too late. His hand is already on your forearm, tugging you right back in place. Face to his chest with barely enough space to look up all the way to his handsome face. You try to keep it out, but your tongue starts to feel a bit bitter anyway. “I really don’t want to-”

“Because we can stop doing that as soon as you say so. They get paid a lot of money, money I’d rather be using on us. I’m tired of doing it.”

Even now, still spent from the match, he smells like safety. Like home, perfectly familiar. You have to physically distance yourself from him by turning your eyes to the couch, not to melt right into him. “Then don’t,” you nod. “But then I have to stop being less… everywhere with you too, and I don’t think you want that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a good actor, Tobio. I can’t pretend not to care and people will look at us, and see.”

“Then let them.”

You sigh, dropping the towel aside under the arm that he’s still holding. He draws gentle circles into the soft skin, like he’s trying to unpick the rips in every single fiber of your threaded sanity. “You’re impossible.” He bends his knees and drops to your level, kissing you. Softly, a few feather-light kisses that shut you up, and then one that breaks you open. He pulls you into him by the waist, the hard lines of his chest against your softer ones. The press of his lips to yours is sweet, though entirely guilty as he uses the leverage on your body to walk you back a little, melting into you.

He bites at your bottom lip and swipes his tongue at yours, sucking eagerly. You imagine his tongue to spell out ‘mine’ on the soft parts of your mouth a million times, because when he gives you a break to breathe you’re dizzy. “You said we weren’t going to do this again.”

“I‘ve been a better liar than you for a while, little sister,” he grins, though you can see the hesitation in his eyes too. This is such a bad thing, it’s wrong, you know it and Tobio must know too. It eats you up inside, but maybe that’s why it’s so easy to believe him. You let your face drop against his chest, letting the rise and fall of his chest dictate yours. “You were made for me, remember? And I for you. And I wished that we’d get married and you wished we’d always be together forever.”

“On our fifth birthday,” you remind him, ignoring his hand when it starts playing with the edge of your worn jacket. It’s his, you suddenly hate how obvious you are. Tobio hums softly at your frown.

“I never stopped meaning it.” He uses one of his long legs to hook around yours and pushes you over into the couch, though you land softly. And while you’re trying to catch your breath from the sudden tilt, he follows you down, coming to lift your knees open and upwards. He leans down on his forearms on top of you, and presses another kiss to your lips. This one is lazier, like he’s already won. He has. Because you shouldn’t be in this situation at all. “I love you,” he whispers, starting to kiss down your neck and zipping open his old jacket from your body.

His large body slotted in between your legs, he presses his hips into you just enough to drive you absolutely mad. “I can’t stay away from you, so stop pushing already,” he moans, reaching down to shift himself in his shorts. Your body, the traitorous thing, basically shudders in excitement when he pulls your top underneath your tits, leaning down to take a bud into his mouth. “Say it,” he ruts his hips into yours now, the friction making you whine. It feels so good, he feels so good.

“I- I love you,” you close your eyes when he smiles at you again, lifting himself from your body to drag your shorts and panties down your legs. “Ah- ‘want you, Tobio.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, sitting back in the couch, “want you too, been wanting you for so long. So long, you have no idea.” He pulls at you until you get up too, sitting you down on his lap, his hard cock slotted between your thighs with a his. “How did you expect me to fuck this perfect, little hole and forget about it, anyway? I belong in this tight cunny, it belongs to me.” He’s rambling, humping you in his lap with his head thrown back and his fingers digging so deep into the skin of your hips they might leave permanent indents.

You press a few kisses to his throat, which he grunts at, before lining up and sliding down the head. He’s already so big, that’s what you remember most. You twitch as you lower yourself on him, moaning through the deep breaths. He stretches you so wide it’s hard to think of anything else, just Tobio. Tobio, Tobio, your Tobio. He drops his forehead on your shoulder when you’re full, before thrusting up into you. You start moving up and down too fast for his liking but your patience has worn too thin for slow. “Wait, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Tobio chokes, shoving you back down in his lap. His cockhead is already at the very end of your sloppy cunt, pressing against every inch.

“Want your fat cock to break me open, please. I need it. I need you. Tobio, please.” He kisses down your face and neck to let you adjust a moment longer, before rolling his length deep inside you once, twice, filling you up over and over again. Mind blank, you lift yourself up a bit higher to drop down on him, his breathing getting shallower by the second. He mumbles out soft curses, and you cling to him. You won’t last. “T-Tobio,” you beg, and he slides his hand between your bodies to rub at your clit with precise movements. “Wanna cum on your cock. You too, cum into me, please.”

He only picks up the pace more when he flips you back over on your back, rutting his cock into you so deep it kisses your cervix with each thrust. Fingers sliding through the sticky mess with calculated precision. “Cum then, slutty girl. Cum on your brother’s cock, you deserve it. I’ll fuck you until you can’t ever think of what others think again.” His hips smack into your doughy skin with every pump, stretching you wide open for him. You can only hang onto him while you cum, moaning his name over and over. “Ahg— Tobio, fuck, holyfuckholyfuck I love you. Love you, Tobio!” Your arms around his shoulders, nails ruining his beautiful skin. “I’m sorry,” you breathe as he kisses you, never once stopping.

He doesn’t give you rest, can’t. But his lips are all over yours, comforting you even now. “I know, baby, I know.” He forces himself to slow down a little as you clamp around him so tight, not ready to let this end. His hips twitch, eyes sharpening on your fucked expression. The rush of love he feels should be illegal. “You’re mine. Don’t fucking forget it ever again. I’m going to fuck you limp.”

[noreasonjustbored]

You Can Never Run Fast Enough

Part 2:

Okay so...I wasn’t planning on making this more than a one shot. But, I recently fixed my phone that has been broken for like six months and found half an update to this story. Since a lot was done already, it was relatively easier to work on this than some of my other stuff. Ahem. FIFLWM.

I know that literally no one has asked for this recently and I understand if you don’t want to read since it’s been so long. That’s why I’m not tagging anyone.

Anyways, most of this was written before we knew Jack Swagger existed and also I don’t accept him as a real thing so yeah. I hope you like it. I’m gonna link the first part so you know what the heck I’m talking about.

Part 1

Also, please comment. I really need some motivation to continue writing. And don’t be afraid to talk to me. Send me stuff you want to see or ask me questions or anything. I’m trying to make some more friends. Seriously. 😂

Over the next couple of days Henry saw Jacob everywhere. He was always a step behind Charlotte, like an aggravating shadow.

Since Henry had accepted his feelings for his best friend, he actually wanted to be around her again. He needed to find out if his affections were returned. But these days he couldn’t get her alone because Jacob was constantly around.

Before, Henry was afraid that they were spending too much time together, now they couldn’t even get a second to themselves.

Jacob had started picking Charlotte up for school, he ate lunch at their table, he walked her to class and he dropped her off to work at Junk N’ Stuff. The dude just wouldn’t go away. He was doing all the things that Henry used to do with her. It was like he was his replacement.

At lunch, Jacob and Charlotte were talking about politics. Henry was ignoring them. Usually Jasper was there to make that task a little easier by distracting him but for some reason he wasn’t eating lunch with them today.

Right now, it was extra difficult for Henry not to pay them any mind. Simply because of how they were sitting; Jacob had his arm slung over Charlotte’s shoulder and she was leaning into his side. They looked super cozy.

Henry hated it. That position was grating on his psyche. The sight of it was making his left eye twitch uncontrollably and it was taking all of his willpower not to say something rude.

While clenching his jaw and fantasizing about beating Jacob up in an alley, he heard someone calling his name.

“Hen” Charlotte said.

“Uh, Yeah?” he broke from his violent thoughts.

“What is wrong with you? You look angry.”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about an annoyance that I can’t seem to get rid of lately” Henry stated while glaring straight at Jacob.

“Well you look constipated” Jacob gave his unwanted opinion.

“Thanks, that’s the look I was going for” he answered sarcastically.

Looking at Charlotte “Hey where’s Jasper?” Henry asked, changing the subject.

“He told me that there was some kind of bucket crisis so he called an emergency meeting for the Bucketeers.”

“Huh. He is never going to be normal, is he?”

“Signs point to no.”

“Gotta love him anyway.”

“True. Where do you think he would be without us?”

“On fire.”

That made her laugh because it was semi plausible. She loved Jasper but... bless his heart. Hearing Charlotte laugh never failed to make Henry laugh too so he joined in. Soon their laughter faded and now they were just smiling while looking at each other.

This nice friendship moment was interrupted by Jacob obnoxiously clearing his throat to get Charlotte’s attention.

“So Char…”

Charlotte winced. No one really called her that besides Henry. Even Jasper rarely used the nickname.

“Yes?” Charlotte asked while glancing at Henry before turning her attention to Jacob.

“I was hoping that maybe you’d want to go out with me on Saturday night?” he questioned.

“Sorry, she can’t.” Henry abruptly interrupted whatever response that Charlotte was going to give. He wasn’t thinking, he just knew that he couldn’t let Charlotte go on a date with this guy.

What if she like him more than me?

“I can’t?” Charlotte said as she gives Henry a puzzled look.

“Yeah we have that training at work, remember?”

“No, I don’t remember. Did Ray forget to tell me?”

“Probably. You know Ray doesn’t really like you” Henry answers, taking the out.

“Ok then. What about Sunday?” Taylor plowed forward undeterred.

“She can’t do Sunday either. Weekend training dude” Henry quipped. Again, before Charlotte could say anything.

“Alright. How about this, you text me when you are available and I’ll make it work” Jacob told Charlotte while standing up with his tray.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting for your response” he said then walked away without another look in Henry’s direction.

“I’ll be waiting for your response” Henry mocked in a nasally voice under his breath.

“What was that?” Charlotte asked nonchalantly even though she heard him.

“Hm?”

She rolls her eyes. “Never mind. Do we actually have training this weekend or did you make that up because you don’t like Jacob?”

“What makes you think I don’t like the guy?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s the way you look at him like he stepped on your last gumball and there’s no time to get a new tube?”

“Pshhh. That isn’t exactly true.”

“Whatever Henry, do we have training this weekend or not?”

“Well...” he starts high-pitched, in typical Henry fashion.

Charlotte gathers her trash and stands up. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait, I’m sorry I just-”

“You just what? Hate it when I finally get some attention from the opposite sex? Like you’re the only one that people can see in a romantic light?” she interrogated him in a slightly raised voice.

“I mean you’ve never had a boyfriend but-”

“Are you kidding me Henry? Why can’t you just be supportive? I was there for you when you ran through every Chloe, Bianca and Heather in Swellview. I’m only asking for a little reciprocity.”

Henry was stunned. She was practically yelling at him now and people in their immediate vicinity were started to look in their direction. In their entire friendship he can’t remember Charlotte EVER being this mad at him. He was at a loss for words.

“Char...” he manages remorsefully.

“I don’t want to hear it Hart. Talk to me when you grow up” she says with an air of finality as she leaves the cafeteria.

Henry groans while running both hands over his face in frustration.

Wow. I really fucked that up.

[blakemetothemoon]

Your Love’s My Ritual

Summary: “I don’t want to break up with you! I want to fuck you!” or: Zon wants to top. Predictably, he sucks at bringing it up.

Pairing: SaifahZon / ZonSaifah

Rating: Explicit for smut. First time topping, blow jobs, fingering, angst, oh my.

Notes: Request: “Would you be okay writing another SaifahZon where maybe Zon is actually afraid to ask Saifah if he can top because he wants to try but now he’s so used to their dynamic that he is nervous about asking Saifah ? Maybe a little bit of angst where Saifah knows something is up but Zon avoids the question so much that he thinks he did something wrong?”

Did my best to touch on all of that D: I hope you all enjoy! Please let me know if you notice any typos or anything like that! This has only been seen by myself and eye, so it’s definitely possible I missed something LOL

This can be read as either a sequel to Smiling Stupid or on its own! Read here or on ao3.

Thank you for reading!

“Do you want to be on top tonight?”

Zon shoots off the pillow so fast he gets whiplash and his shoulder barely misses breaking Saifah’s nose. “Really?!”

Saifah crinkles his brow, confused by the outburst. And Zon doesn’t blame him. He gets on top of Saifah all the time. Riding Saifah, they’ve discovered together, is one of Zon’s favorite things. Saifah’s fingers have already made their way into the back of Zon’s boxers and are sliding over the curve of his ass. Normally, the way his hand perfectly cups Zon’s cheek and can still tease him melts Zon like ice cream left in the sun.

But “normally” isn’t “lately”.

Because here’s the thing: Zon does want to be on top.

He just…means it in a different way than Saifah does.

And Zon has brought it up no more than absolutely zero times.

To say he plans to bring it up is a lie. What if Saifah makes fun of him because Zon has never actually put his dick in someone’s ass before? What if Saifah gets weirded out? Sure, he offered the first time they had sex but now they’ve only done it with Zon on bottom, so changing at this point would be wrong, right? And what if Saifah gets upset or offended? Zon loves sex with Saifah. He doesn’t want Saifah to think differently. Like he isn’t pleasing Zon— with all those explosive orgasms and his throat going hoarse from moaning so much, god, Saifah is most definitely pleasing every inch of him.  

Still, none of that changes how much Zon thinks about giving it to Saifah like Saifah gives it to him. About long legs around his waist and his cock inside hitting that bundle of nerves to drive Saifah crazy. Sometimes he thinks about how he pinned Saifah to a wall once already; he could do it again. Except they could both be naked and—

Zon doesn’t know why he wants it so bad. Somewhere between imagining fucking Saifah and the anxiety of bringing it up, his brain kind of stales.

It’s fine, though. Zon’s got this. He can hide his dirty little fantasy away and be so chill about it that Saifah will never know anything is amiss.

“Um,” Zon replies, “I’m actually pretty tired.”

Immediately, Saifah’s fingers stop. For a brief second, Zon’s legs open slightly on their own, waiting for Saifah to continue, press in and make Zon moan, and he hates part of himself for making the excuse but he would have to explain if he took it back.

“It’s only 9 PM,” Saifah says.

“Uh, yeah. Headache.” 

Eyes search his face. Saifah’s hand retretes. It slides out of Zon’s boxers to trace his thumb over Zon’s hip, soothing. “Do you need to go to the doctor? You’ve been getting those a lot lately.”

Shit, Zon should’ve thought of a better excuse. He’s used the headache one five times already, and there’s definite annoyance in Saifah’s tone.

Not getting laid isn’t what Saifah’s annoyed about. It’s obvious Zon is hiding something and Saifah isn’t big on Zon refusing to talk to him. The last time that happened, Zon was convinced the novel was real and his feelings for Saifah weren’t. Back when he would throw them into that stupid cat and mouse game, flinching away from each of Saifah’s advances and kicking Saifah right in the heart.

Zon knows he’s probably kicking again as he rolls away to avoid any further conversation. There’s a moment of silence. Then a kiss is pressed into the spot where Zon’s neck meets his shoulder. It is the same spot Saifah always nips, either because he wants to give Zon reassurance or he wants Zon to arch his back and shudder. It almost works for both, but Zon freezes when Saifah winds his arms around his waist because being the little spoon makes Zon think about wanting to not be the little spoon, and his anxiety skyrockets.

Saifah mistakes it for outright rejection; he is quick to withdraw his arms. Zon isn’t sure how to reassure him without bringing up the whole “I-wanna-top-you” thing, so he lets Saifah shuffle away to the other side of the bed. 

Zon barely sleeps. 

* 

Contrary to what Tutor is currently saying, Zon is not ignoring Saifah. Frantically sprinting off whenever he sees that sexy, tall giraffe walking his way is not ignoring—it’s self-preservation. It’s driving him crazier and crazier whenever he’s in close vicinity to Saifah to keep his hands off him.

“Zon, Saifah said you haven’t talked to him all week,” Tutor says, “and now he’s all mopey like a kicked puppy.”

“He’s mopey?”

“Wouldn’t you be if you thought Saifah was planning to break up with you?”

The thought of him and Saifah not being together instantly makes Zon want to puke. “I’m not going to break up with him!” Zon grabs onto Tutor’s biceps, making him jump, but he quickly resigns himself to the oncoming rant. “Tutor, listen to me! I want to fuck Saifah so bad, I can’t stop thinking about it. Like, all the time! Any time I see him! And it’s wrong because we’ve always done it the other way, and we both really like it, and Saifah is taller, and I think he’ll hate me if I bring it up, and I don’t want him to hate me when I’m in love with him!”

Zon is used to long pauses after he talks, so he’s a little shocked when Tutor immediately replies, “Are you a moron?” Tutor shakes his head and wiggles his way out of Zon’s death grip. “Who do you think tops—Fighter or me?”

“Uh,” Zon crinkles his brow. “I’m not sure. You’re scary when you’re mad, but Fighter is scary all the time. You can both be intimidating. You’re both pretty equal height, so—”

A rolled up notebook smacks him across the head.

“What the hell kind of logic—” Tutor remembers who he’s talking to, so he bites off with a sigh. “We both like it both ways, so we do it both ways. We switch.”

Zon’s eyes go impossibly wider. “You switch? You can do that? That’s allowed—ow!”

The notebook remains rolled, like Tutor is convinced he’s not done using it. “The things allowed in a relationship are what’s consented between the people in it. Have you talked to Saifah about…Zon!”

Zon throws up his hands before Tutor can smack him again. “I don’t know how to bring it up!”

Tutor briefly glances over Zon’s shoulder, then back to Zon’s face. “Try this: ‘Saifah, I need to talk to you about something.’ Now, you say it.”

Zon pouts and shuffles back and forth on his feet. “‘Saifah, I need to talk to you about something.’”

“That’ll involve actually talking to me.”

It’s that deep voice Zon hasn’t heard all week. Saifah drapes his arm over Zon’s shoulders and begins steering him away.

“Tor,” Zon yells, drawing the attention of everyone in the canteen, “how could you!”

Tutor throws him a cute little wave like he hasn’t just sentenced Zon to death.

*

Saifah is mad. Saifah is really mad.

“So you’ll talk to Tutor about whatever’s bothering you, but not me?”

Zon is usually quick to rise to Saifah’s anger with his own, but this time he knows it would be unwarranted. “He cornered me—”

“Now I’m the one cornering you. What the hell’s going on with you?”

And when Saifah says he’s corning Zon, he’s very much cornering him. Saifah has dragged them to an empty stairwell and he’s got Zon back up against the wall. The coldness of it does little to stop the heat pooling in the bottom of Zon’s stomach reminding him they haven’t even kissed in five days. But Saifah doesn’t seem like he would appreciate Zon trying to make out with him right now.

Saifah takes Zon’s distracted silence as another rejection. “I thought we were past this, Zon. If you’re gonna break up with me then—”

Hearing the words from Saifah’s mouth is worse than hearing them from Tutor’s. “I’m not!”

“You expect me to believe that when you’ve been running away from me—”

“I don’t want to break up with you! I want to fuck you!”

The words bounce off the walls in an embarrassing echo. 

“What?” Saifah replies.

“I want… tofuckyou.” Zon says, timid and quick. He starts doing that jaw working, bouncing from one foot to the other thing. His hands are cold and his chest is tight. He wants to puke. He shouldn’t have said anything, not even to Tutor. “All the time. It’s all I think about when we’re together and I don’t want you to think I don’t like doing the other way because I still do. It’s just—”

“That’s why you’ve been ignoring me?” If anything, Saifah is angrier now that Zon has started explaining himself. “I’ve already offered to do that.”

“Yeah, but that was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before you started doing me!” Zon wipes his clammy hands on his pant legs. “You really like doing it that way.��

“Obviously!” Saifah shakes his head and steps away, giving Zon space to breathe. “It feels amazing, but that’s not why I like it so much. I like it because it’s you, Zon. I like being with you. It’s not about whose dick is where.”

“It’s…not?”

Saifah’s face softens. It barely takes him two steps to close the distance again. He wraps Zon up in a big bear hug. Zon likes that he’s small enough for Saifah’s arms to envelope him. To pull him into his chest where it’s warm and he can hear the rhythm of Saifah’s steady heartbeat. 

“I know I’m usually good at reading you,” says Saifah softly, “but when it comes to things like this, you have to say it clearly, okay?”

“Okay,” Zon replies, soft and muffled. He clings to the back of Saifah’s shirt like it’s a lifeline. “I’m sorry for making you think I wanted to break up.”

“Hmm, you’ll have to make it up to me,” Saifah says. Zon can hear his smirk. “You’re staying over on Friday, right?”

Zon tilts his head up to look at him. “Y-Yeah?”

Saifah doesn’t explain because he doesn’t need to. He waggles his eyebrows. Red stains Zon’s cheeks to his ears, and he buries his face into Saifah’s chest again, shy and trying to hide his smile.

Friday. Two days. Zon has never been more ready for anything in this life. 

*

Zon is not ready. 

Saifah is in the shower when Zon gets in. Most likely getting himself ready. Zon thinks about how often he’s done that himself, then he pictures Saifah doing it—

Zon drops his bag somewhere random and sits down, heavy, onto the edge of the bed. He wrings his hands between his legs. They’re already sweating. Is he allowed to finger Saifah if his hands are sweaty? Saifah is always so in control when he’s topping and takes care of everything—Zon should do the same, right? Should he pull out the lube and condom to have it ready? Maybe he should make this extra special since it is the first time they’re doing it this way. He didn’t bring candles or rose petals, though. He did bring some popcorn and candies he knows are Saifah’s favorites, but those were for later. At least he figures they should be for later—

Hands warm from the shower wrap around his.

“Don’t you dare say anything about being in a K-drama,” Zon pouts. He’s so out of it, he didn’t hear Saifah getting out of the shower or kneeling in front of him.

Saifah raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think you can do it?” he asks instead.

Zon glares and clenches his teeth. “Of course I can do it, asshole.”

“Agreed,” says Saifah, smiling, hands still massaging Zon’s even though Zon is considerably calmer now. “You don’t need to be so worried.”

“But what if I mess up, or you don’t like it, or—”

“You won’t and I will.” Saifah kisses Zon’s knuckles. “It’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

Zon’s mouth drops open. “You have?!”

“To myself.” Saifah’s grin is downright dirty.

Zon pictures it and his mind goes white for a second, then he blushes. "You’re so shameless.”

That devious smile grows. “Which I know you appreciate.”

Saifah presses against Zon’s shoulders and together they fall backwards onto the mattress. Usually Zon is the one on his back with Saifah staring down over him, always equal parts hungry and adoring. But this time, Saifah rolls them; with a grip on Zon’s hips, he pulls Zon on top of him, and, suddenly, it’s Zon’s turn to loom.

Drying hair frames Saifah’s face, bangs slightly matted to his forehead. Water drops are scattered over his neck and collarbones. Zon wants to drag his tongue over every inch and leave marks behind.

Saifah smirks when he feels Zon grow hard. He uses the hold he still has on Zon’s waist to pull him down at the same time he grinds up, showing Zon he isn’t alone in being excited about what they are about to do.

Weirdly, it makes Zon more confident.

Unlike the first time they had sex, they don’t take time removing each other’s clothes because dragging this part out gives Zon too many opportunities to think. Saifah nearly rips off the buttons of Zon’s shirt and has him naked in record time. Zon pulls Saifah’s towel loose and tosses it somewhere they can find later. He’s seen Saifah naked tons of times now, but never like this: spread out across the navy blue sheets beneath him, legs open and inviting Zon to make his move.

It takes Zon a moment to figure out what ‘his move’ is. He knows he’s spoiled. Saifah has always been the giver between them, both in the bedroom and out. Not that Zon doesn’t…do things when he’s on the bottom. Once he does something for the first time and finds out he likes it, he kind of becomes insatiable afterwards. He’s gotten pretty good at giving blowjobs like they’re going out of style. Saifah shows off those scratches Zon leaves on his back like they are battle scars he’s proud of, and Saifah comes every time which is always the ultimate end goal for Zon.

But this is different. Now that he’s here between Saifah’s thighs instead of wrapped around his hips, there’s so much more…access. He can trace each line of Saifah’s abs and see them jump beneath his fingertips. Saifah’s neck is long so Zon has plenty of space to experiment with slow, dragging kisses, sucking when Saifah’s breathing stutters. Saifah has porcelain skin; Zon enjoys how it instantly reddens beneath his lips. With each new mark, Saifah rubs himself harder up against Zon’s stomach, encouraging him to keep going. He sighs when Zon pulls back to look down to where their bodies are touching.

The first time Zon saw Saifah’s dick, he was fascinated. Apparently switching roles makes him fascinated again. His eyes linger on how hard Saifah is and it’s slowly dawning on him, Saifah really likes this.

Zon lines up their cocks perfectly, spurred on by knowing he is the one controlling every slide and grind, holding Saifah’s hips steady because Zon’s shorter, but he’s still strong. Zon almost apologizes for the red blossoming beneath his fingers. Starts to ask if he’s pressing too hard. But then Saifah desperately tries to rut up against him—

Because I like being with you, Zon.

And maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s why Zon wants to be inside Saifah so badly, it’s surreal he finally will be. Zon wants to make Saifah feel as amazing as Saifah makes him feel. Give him the same attention he covers Zon with. Take care of the technicalities so all Saifah needs to do is feel good and sated and spent. 

Saifah makes an amused, startled noise when Zon surges up to kiss him. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good you can’t talk,” Zon says in a rush of words against Saifah’s lips. The enthusiasm takes away any attempt at sexiness.

Still, Saifah laughs. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and barely has to stretch up to kiss Zon’s forehead. He does it three more times, then flops back down on the pillow and says, “You can do it, my Zon.”

Breathing gets harder once Zon has the lube on his fingers. He drags his other hand down over Saifah’s ribcage to his stomach to his cock. He tries to think of how Saifah takes care of him, so he bends forward and takes Saifah into his mouth at the same time he pushes his finger in.

The first thing Zon notices isn’t how tight Saifah is or how hot (though those are very fast to follow). What he notices is how Saifah’s entire body reacts. He bites his bottom lip and his stomach flexes and he thrusts into Zon’s mouth like he can’t help it. For a moment, Zon’s gag reflex activates but he doesn’t care—all his focus is on making Saifah lose control bit by bit.

Zon may not have experience in fingering someone else yet but he’s fucking determined, so he adds a second finger when Saifah tells him to, then immediately spreads them and searches. Saifah’s resounding, deep moan when Zon finds that spot has Zon grinding himself against the sheets for minor relief.

Saifah really is shameless. He has never been shy about his moans when he’s fucking Zon, never holds them back. Zon should have known Saifah would be responsive this way, too. And since Zon secretly loves hearing Saifah come undone as much as he likes coming himself, all of Saifah’s noises are loosening Zon’s remaining nerves. 

Zon pulls his mouth off a minute later when he feels Saifah’s entire body shivering, a sign Zon knows means he’s close. But Saifah tightens around Zon’s fingers, warning him not to stop, and Zon can’t help but groan and give Saifah what he’s asking for.

"Does it feel good? Sai?” He can’t decide what is sexier: his fingers disappearing into Saifah’s heat or the microshifts in Saifah’s expression when Zon goes from teasing him to actually pressing repeatedly against his prostate.

“Yeah,” Saifah says, breathless. “Yeah, feels so good. You’re doing amazing.”

The nerves return once Zon has the condom on and is lining up, but Saifah knows when Zon needs encouragement. And, honestly, there’s something incredibly hot about how Saifah grips Zon’s cock and guides him forward. About how Saifah wraps his legs around Zon’s waist like a vice and tugs. Zon has nowhere to go except in and in and in.

‘Tight’ and ‘hot’ are the first thoughts this time. He’s pretty sure he blacks out for a second once his hips meet Saifah’s ass, and then again when Saifah digs his nails into Zon’s neck and forces him down so he can bite at his lips.

Somehow Saifah manages a smirk. "Try not to come right away, virgin.”

Zon groans into Saifah’s shoulder. “Shut up, jerk.”

Saifah has to be uncomfortable, but he’s running his fingers through Zon’s hair, soothing and grounding. Zon returns it with a soft kiss to Saifah’s throat and a shallow thrust, enjoying the way Saifah’s hand tightens around the strands. Enjoys it even more when he thrusts again and Saifah tightens around him everywhere and starts whispering, “Zon, c’mon. Zon, my Zon.”

And, well, Zon doesn’t mind Saifah pleading his name like this.

In novels, shyness is a common theme. “Don’t look!” and “It’s embarrassing!” And Zon gets it—he’s still the embodiment of that kind of bashfulness sometimes.

But Saifah seems to like the complete attention, and Zon doesn’t want to miss a single thing, so he sits back on his knees. Their movements are a bit awkward at first, but Saifah drags one leg over Zons shoulder. Zon grabs the other, digging his fingers into the back of Saifah’s knee and pressing it forward. Saifah has to bend further than Zon ever does in this position but he does it with a gasp instead of a complaint. Zon kisses Saifah’s inner thigh like he’s passing on a reward. 

Zon refuses to come first. He always comes first. Not this time. This time it will be Saifah and Zon will even drive himself crazy to make sure that happens. He keeps the pace slow to start, pulling out then sinking deep and grinding to make sure Saifah gasps each time. When it’s time to go harder, his body does it on its own, like Zon was made to make Saifah throw his head back and moan.

Then they’re moving together, thrusting and meeting and moaning. Saifah runs his hands anywhere he can, leaving fire with each glide. They’re so long he can grab Zon’s ass and sink him deeper still. Zon bends Saifah even more. The changed angle makes Saifah’s eyes go from half-lidded to full blown with desire and Zon hits it again and again. Saifah is muttering nothing but Zon’s name. He cradles Zon’s face between his big hands and draws him into a desperate kiss.

Soon, they are just panting into each other’s mouths. Zon kisses Saifah’s nose like he did the first time they kissed and he couldn’t speak from the overwhelming happiness.

Now, it’s Saifah who is unable to find words; his nod is as subtle as Zon’s had been. I’m ready, please, I want you to.

Zon grabs onto Saifah’s cock and strokes him in time to their thrusts, pulling, pulling, pulling until Saifah is shaking and coming all over his stomach and Zon’s fingers. Between whimpers he sings Zon’s name, and he looks blissed out, and is so perfectly tight around Zon’s cock—

HIs orgasm hits him suddenly and sends lightning from his head to his toes. He can’t stop his hips from moving, thrusting deep into Saifah, but Saifah doesn’t care; he hoarsely gasps and still has his legs wrapped around Zon, ankles crossed and thighs keeping Zon in place until he’s done shivering through his high.

They’re panting when Zon collapses next to Saifah, both covered in come and sweat, and not caring at all. For once Saifah doesn’t have the energy after sex to continue doting affection on Zon. Zon does it instead. He reaches over and brushes Saifah’s bangs off his forehead. Traces mindless shapes onto his chest. Nuzzles Saifah’s neck so he can feel Zon’s smile. 

“You’re amazing,” Zon says, “How are you always so amazing?”

“I think you’re the amazing one here, My. Best. Zon,” Saifah says, accentuating each word with a playful tap to Zon’s nose.

Zon preens. “It felt good?”

“You know it did. How about for you?”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely.” Zon licks his lips and he doesn’t mean for his voice to go so high when he asks, “So, you would want to do it like this again?”

Saifah drags a hand slowly up and down Zon’s arm and smiles. “I think we can do it however we want.”

Zon smiles back. “I think so too. Wait, where are you going?”

Slowly shuffling out of bed, Saifah raises an eyebrow. “To grab the towel—hey!”

Before Saifah can process it, Zon rolls over him and leaps out of bed. Still naked, he races to the bathroom for a wet towel. Along the way back, he grabs some muscle relief cream and the snacks he brought for Saifah.

“My towel from earlier is right here,” says Saifah, amused as Zon cleans them with the fresh towel. “Should I expect this service every time?”

Zon gives him a cheeky grin in reply, then sees how happy Saifah is, and he can’t help kissing him again.

They spend the rest of the night laughing, eating the snacks Zon brought, and singing stupid songs. Eventually, Zon rolls onto his side, burying his face into his pillow and snuggling deeper into the mattress. Saifah’s arm wraps around Zon’s stomach and holds tight. He kisses the spot where Zon’s neck meets his shoulder, then pulls him back until they’re practically plastered together. Their legs become a tangled mess. Soon, Zon can hear Saifah’s gentle, even breathing.

That night, Zon doesn’t mind being the little spoon.

[perspective-series]

Thomas Perspective (8/19)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: Fear, unwanted touching

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter 

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 Thomas blinked, not believing his luck. Roman had just...left him alone. Thomas grinned. Now was his chance. He may be far away from his home, but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with anymore humans. He would take a long trek if it meant no humans any day.

 Thomas moved past the books and towards the door. He looked underneath, into the hallway, not seeing anyone. He then shimmied underneath, thankful he was able to fit under. He looked up and down the hall before moving the way Roman had come in. Sticking close to the wall and keeping a watchful eye for any humans.

 He didn’t think he would have to worry though. Since they were all in class at this point.

Of course, one student was not in class.

Logan Sanders was still wandering the halls, having just stayed late to discuss the probabilities of the multiverse theory with his physics professor. After a while, the professor had excused himself. 

Now, Logan was faced with an even greater anomaly than the multiverse theory. He paused, watching the creature for a moment with a tilted head. He was behind it, and therefore hadn’t been spotted, but this was the most curious thing Logan had ever seen. It was the size of a mouse yet looked exactly as though a human being had been shrunken down!

“Incredible.” Logan quickly began to walk closer, eyes locked onto it.

 Thomas froze, eye wide as he caught the voice. Slowly, he turned his head, looking up and seeing another human watching him. Crap, not again! 

 Quickly turning back around, Thomas booked it towards the front exit.

Seeing the creature speed up, Logan quickened his pace. He almost dove to the floor, wrapping his hands around it. “Gotcha!”

 “Ah!” Thomas yelled. Again. He couldn’t believe he had been caught by three humans in less than 24 hours. He really was a terrible borrower. He struggled against the grip, ignoring how his bruises from earlier flared up.

“Extraordinary.” Logan’s eyes almost sparkled, pulling the tiny person up to look at him more closely. Logan sat back on his heels, holding it higher. “What- who are you?”

 Thomas froze in his struggling, realizing he recognized that voice. He looked up into a pair of eyes framed with glasses. “Logan?” He said before he could stop himself. He immediately closed his mouth. Crap, what had he just done? But, another question, why was he being caught by all the residents of the same building.

Logan blinked. “How do you know my name?” Logan whispered, puzzled. What sort of creature was this? Logan looked down at himself but spotted no name tag that could have offered the miniature a clue.

 “Uh…” Thomas wasn’t sure how to answer that without Logan getting mad at him. “Lucky guess?” He chuckled nervously.

Logan frowned, knowing for sure ‘luck’ had nothing to do with it. “Alright, so what is your name, then?” Logan asked, pushing himself off the ground to continue walking. After all, the halls were hardly a private place to hold a conversation.

 At least that was something Thomas was okay with giving out, more or less. “Thomas.” The borrower then looked around as they started to move. “Um, w-where are you taking me?”

“Home.” Logan answered, peeking out the door to check for anyone around. “Well, first my car. Then home. It’s not exactly the safest place for you here.”

 Thomas could agree with that. But it also wasn’t safe to be with a human either. Thomas continued to squirm in the grip, wincing when he rubbed at his bruise wrong.

“Shh, it’s alright.” Logan tried to readjust his hands so that Thomas was more comfortable, making a quick dash to his car. Panting slightly from the exertion, Logan climbed into the driver’s seat and re-evaluated Thomas. “Are you alright?”

 “Um...yeah.” He lied. He shifted again, unable to keep from wincing as his bruised flared up once again. Wow, that fall had really gotten him. And also all the tight grips. He was going to be bruised for weeks.

“Are you...hurt?” Logan moved Thomas closer, gently prodding him in the side.

 Thomas flinched, releasing a hiss of pain.

“Sorry!” Logan quickly removed his finger, lessening his grip on Thomas so that he lay in an open palm. “You look...quite injured…” Logan’s eyes widened. “Is that because of me?”

 Thomas was thankful to be out of the grip but couldn’t help but look up at the human in slight confusion. It was weird having three humans seemingly caring about him. He fought with himself over what to say. “Uh, no, no. This was from, ah...earlier.”

“...I see.” Now aware of Thomas’ injuries, Logan was gentle as he set Thomas down to rest inside the cup holder. There the small man would hopefully be the least jostled. “May I ask what happened?”

 Thomas wondered how much he should tell Logan. Because he knew Logan knew who Roman and Virgil were, they were best friends after all. And he didn’t want to end up in their hands again, especially Roman’s. And maybe Logan would actually let him go? Well, maybe not, but maybe he could escape from him better.

 “A...Another human found me and...well…” Thomas shrugged. He was glad to be out of Logan’s hands but the angle was less than ideal now.

Logan felt his blood boil slightly at the indication of another person treating Thomas poorly.

“Who was it?” Logan asked, turning the key in his ignition. “What did they do?”

 “I’m not sure.” Thomas lied, wincing as he did so. “But they uh, grabbed me too rough and well...dropped me.”

“What? Why?” Logan fought to stay focused on the road instead of glancing down at Thomas.

 “I asked to be let go and he panicked and dropped me.” Thomas said with a shrug. He rubbed at his sides.

“What kind of an idiot would do that?” Logan murmured, half to himself.

 Thomas just shrugged, keeping his mouth shut this time. He didn’t want to say anymore and have Logan figure out who it had been.

It was only a few minutes before they reached the parking structure. Logan turned off the car, carefully picking up Thomas and peering out his window to check if the coast was clear.

 Thomas squirmed in the grip once again but made himself still as he realized Logan was about to go outside. He tried to sink further into the hand in order to remain hidden. “L-Logan, please don’t let me be seen.”

“I won’t.” Logan assured Thomas, giving him a brief smile. Noticing that no one else was around, Logan got out of the vehicle and began briskly walking up and into his building. Logan’s hands were kept cupped around Thomas to hide the tiny from any passersby that Logan might have neglected to spot.

 Thomas shook, hating being out in the open like he was but at least Logan understood to keep him hidden. And at least now he didn’t have to worry about getting back home.

Thankfully, Logan ran into no one on his way up to the fourth floor. He leaned against his apartment door briefly, letting out a sigh of relief. Slowly, Logan uncupped his hands.

“How are you doing?” Logan asked, eyes glancing over Thomas’ form as he began to walk down the hall, grabbing a pillow in his spare hand as he passed the couch.

 “Um...fine.” Thomas said, only half lying that time. He still didn’t know what Logan was going to do.

Logan entered the kitchen, setting the pillow down on the counter. He placed Thomas in the center before grabbing a small plastic ice cube and wrapping it in a washcloth.

“Here.” Logan held it out to Thomas. “Hold this to your injuries, it should help.”

 Thomas hesitated before taking it and basically hugging it in order for it to reach his sides, stomach and chest. He shivered at the cold but relaxed into it. “Th-Thanks.”

“Are you bleeding anywhere?” Logan asked, already pulling out the first aid kit from the top shelf. “I have bandages.��

 Thomas shook his head. “No, I’m alright. It’s just bruises.” Thankfully.

“Okay.” Logan gave a small sigh of relief. He hadn’t been looking forward to trying to mend any tiny broken bones. Now Logan looked around for something to use as a cup. Spotting a water bottle. Logan removed the cap and splashed some water into it. Careful not to spill all the contents onto Thomas, Logan held this out for Thomas to take.

 Thomas looked from the cap to Logan before taking it. He adjusted the ice cube and his grip, before taking a sip. He sighed in relief as the cool water ran down his throat. He set it down once he had had enough and then looked up at Logan. He bit his lip. “Um, Logan?”

“Thomas, do you want strawberries or carrots?” Logan asked, now busy searching through the fridge.

 Thomas blinked. “Strawberries would be great, but, Logan?” Thomas tried again.

“Wait, do you have any dietary restrictions?” Logan frowned in thought, reappearing with an armful of strawberries. He began to cut these into manageable pieces.

 “No.” Thomas bit his lip, not liking how Logan was ignoring him. He just wanted to ask a simple question. “But Logan, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, what is it?” Finally Logan turned his attention to Thomas’ words, handing Thomas a strawberry chunk.

 Thomas took the strawberry and was grateful that Logan was finally paying attention to him. “What’s...going to happen now?”

Logan frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

 “I mean, like...are you going to let me go?” Thomas said, just getting the question out there and over with. He braced himself for whatever reaction Logan would have.

“Let you go where?” Logan glanced around his apartment.

 “Um...home? My home, that is.” Thomas explained, trying not to get his hopes up. Things were not looking good so far.

“It’s not exactly ideal to move you in this state.” Logan advised, not wanting to drive back to the school with an injured Thomas. Since Logan had discovered Thomas in the hall, it was only logical the little lived in that vicinity. “You should rest and recuperate.”

 “But...you will let me go? Eventually?” Thomas asked, shoulders tense.

“I will take the course of action most beneficial to your health.” Logan promised. Whether that was releasing Thomas back into the world, it was hard to say.

 Thomas deflated. Of course. Why did every human he meet think they knew what was best for him? Guess that meant he had to try and escape the old fashioned way. 

“Now eat up.” Logan instructed, handing Thomas another strawberry. “Keeping your energy levels high is essential to a steady recovery process.”

 Thomas sighed but took the offered strawberry, taking a bite. The only good thing about all of this was that he was eating more than he had ever had.

[whattimeisitintokyo]

Somos Familia Ch 38 Birthday Eve

Tomorrow is my birthday, so now I can relax knowing I got this GD chapter out! Hallelujah!

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“Hola, Coco.” Miguel said happily, leaning in to give his sister a kiss on the cheek.

Coco smiled as she tilted her head to accept it. “How are you, Miguel?”

“Good, now that school is out.”

“Are you excited about your birthday tomorrow?”

“No.”

With a small sigh Coco shook her head and pointed a thumb to the back of the house. “Well go on to your little club meeting then. I’ll ring Papá and tell him you’re over here. You know how he worries.”

Miguel rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

“Don’t forget the Cokes!”

“Gracias, Coco!” Miguel grabbed two ice cold bottles out of the refrigerator and raced to Victoria’s bedroom upstairs, taking two steps at a time.

Over the years Coco’s house had become a sort of safe haven for Miguel to spend his free time. Yes, he had friends at school that he could hang out with, but nothing compared to how stress-free, homey and normal Coco’s house was. A spacious yet modest colonial style home built near the town’s border, it was the perfect place where Miguel could relax and actually be himself with no fear of his love of music being discovered by his parents.

Never really understanding his father’s unwavering stand on having no music listened to or played in his vicinity, Miguel was forced to keep his passions to himself until his older sister took pity on him and let him listen to dozens of records from her own private collection. He was also joined by his niece Victoria, and their shared secret hobby had led them to becoming each other’s best friend.

His smile faded as he reached the door when he saw another little girl standing in a huff in front of it, her face blotchy from having been crying, and she threw him a hard glare. With a stomp of her foot, she pointed at the door. “Tío, make her open up!”

“You’re not coming in here, Elena!” Victoria’s angry voice called out from the other side. “Get out of the way so Miguel can get through!”

Elena whined and hopped up and down. “Why does he get to come in and not me?!”

“Because he didn’t feed my tutu to your stupid goat!”

“Diego is not stupid! And I didn’t feed it to him, you just left it out!” Hands on her hips, she smiled smugly. “Besides you deserve it. If Abuelito knew that you were dancing he’d be mad at you. Maybe even hate you!”

Not liking how that line in particular made him feel, as well as not wanting to waste anymore time, Miguel held one of the Cokes out to Elena. “Here Elenita. Have a Coke.”

As her eyes settled on the bottle, Elena gasped in delight and reached for it. “Gracias tío!” Tilting it back and taking three large, refreshing gulps, she sighed in satisfaction. “Ahh, delicio-”

*SLAM!*

“HEY!”

Locking the door behind him as Miguel managed to zip inside, Victoria laughed and leaned against it while Elena kicked and yelled from the other side. She was already clad in her leotard and pointe shoes, but sans tutu of course. She nodded approvingly at Miguel. “Very clever Miguel. I’m impressed.”

Miguel chuckled and set the remaining bottle down. “Not that clever. Now we have to share one.”

“I know what you’re doing in there!” Elena screamed at them. “You’re dancing and playing music! Abuelito hates music! I’m gonna tell on you!”

“That’s only when Abuelito’s around, estupida! Mamá says we can do whatever we want with music as long as he’s not here, so you’re not allowed to tell!” Victoria crossed her arms and smiled smugly. “You’re just jealous because your legs are too short and fat to even walk, let alone try to dance.”

There was a moment of silence, before the sound of quick footfalls flying down the hallway and the piercing cry of “Mamá!” echoing off the walls let them know that they were finally alone. For now.

Miguel pulled his guitar out from underneath Victoria’s wardrobe, smiling reverently and brushing his fingers lightly against the crudely drawn skull on the stock. It was an old thing, the wood worn and splintering slightly along the edges despite how much gold paint he had slathered all over it. Limited artistic abilities aside he was quite pleased with how much he made it to look like Ernesto de la Cruz’s famous golden guitar. He just needed to get a Sharpie or something to draw in the final details. It wasn’t the best guitar in the world, but he was too scared to buy a brand new one. The fear of Papá somehow finding out kept him from doing so.

It could be worse though. It could have been a guitar made from scraps, screws and nails.

“So what do you want me to play?” Miguel asked as he tuned the strings to perfection. “Lago de los Cisnes again? Ooh, or maybe El Cascanueces because it’s almost the holidays. I’ve been working on the Russian dance if you’re up to the challenge.”

There was a time where Miguel wasn’t exactly fond of playing classical ballet songs for Victoria to dance to, considering it boring and her dancing to be prissy and goofy. That was until Victoria angrily challenged him to try it himself. He arrogantly agreed, and his one attempt to stand en pointe resulted in a dislocated big toe and a nail split down the middle. He had to lie to his parents about it too, saying that a horse had stepped on his foot. Now he treated Victoria’s dancing with the awe and pride that it deserved. And the songs were good practice for his plucking anyway.

“Not yet Miguel. First… I have to give you these.” Victoria placed a box in front of him, a small yet pleased smile on her face. “Feliz cumpleaños, Tío.”

With a roll of his eyes, Miguel took the lid off the box. “C’mon, Victoria. Why couldn’t you just wait to give it to me to-… morrow?...”

“Because Abuelito would throw a fit if I gave it to you in front of him.”

“Leather wrist bands!” Miguel cheered happily, throwing the box to the side and slipping the brown leather over his hands. “Just like the ones Tío Nesto used to wear! They actually look like the ones he wore in El Camino a Casa!”

Victoria nodded proudly. “Yep! I worked really hard on them to make it look exact.”

Miguel looked up at her in wonder as he finished fastening the buttons tight. “You made these?”

“Uh huh. I used leftover leather from the old workshop after the museum tour guide finished the shoe demonstration. I’m very good at weaving leather, who would have thought?”

The old workshop, along with the entire Rivera household, had finally run its course. After years of hemming and hawing Héctor had finally conceded that it was time to move into a bigger, safer house for his growing family. Not as flashy as any of Ernesto’s mansions, it was still an enormous complex with enough bedrooms for all the guests that were coming to Miguel’s birthday celebration. With high security walls, a lush garden full of both lovely flowers and fresh vegetables, and a five-car garage with the latest models inside, it was a house that truly showed off the Rivera’s wealth.

The old house had been turned into the Rivera Shoe museum, showcasing it as the origin of Imelda’s business as well as a small monument to the history of the family. There were demonstrations on basic shoe repair with workshops on cutting and sewing leather for tourists to enjoy, a gift shop to buy Rivera souvenirs as well as the usual fittings for their own custom-made shoes that they could order.

That was only during the weekdays. On the weekends it was closed to everyone but the family, and it was also where they would be having Miguel’s birthday party and where the ofrenda would be set up: So Leti could visit her real home.

But over the years the actual holiday came second to Miguel’s birthday. His father put all his time and energy into giving his youngest the best birthday a child could ask for: Mountains of food, games, presents and all his friends at school would come over and have the time of their lives.

Miguel had loved it.

At first.

But as he grew older his father’s exuberance over his birthday became more and more embarrassing. It was his main focus on all the days leading up to it, and on the day of the party he became unbearably chipper and happy.  Never mind the fact that Miguel would soon be turning twelve years old. Papá always acted like he was celebrating a five year old’s birthday. And despite the pleas from his friends parents Papá insisted that he celebrate his birthday on the day of, refusing to move it to another day so the families could also celebrate Dia de Muertos. Also since every party had no music for entertainment they became increasingly boring for all who came.

So eventually his friends stopped coming to his birthday parties, and it just became a family get together. Miguel would have rather just not celebrate at all, but Papá wouldn’t let him. He insisted that Miguel celebrate his birthday, but the boy knew by now that it wasn’t for his sake.

Papá needed to celebrate his birthday. To have something joyous to focus on, so as not to think about the daughter he had tragically lost, nor the day that his best friend and brother had been gruesomely ripped away from him. His birthday was a blessing to his father: the one good thing about Dia de Muertos.

And so Miguel endured it. But as he flexed his wrists and admired the exquisite craftsmanship of his sobrina, it made it feel like it would be easier to do so this year.

“Gracias, Victoria. They’re great! I feel just like Tío Nesto now!”

“De nada, Miguel.” Victoria smiled warmly. “And yes, I would like to try the Russian Dance. Your tempo has been poor lately, I’d hate to see if those wrist bands somehow make it worse.”

“Ha! Yeah right, just try to keep up!” Miguel laughed, and broke out with a loud flourish of his guitar. 

----

“Well I hope you enjoyed your little nap, Héctor.” Vicente grumbled as he and his supposed boss walked down the streets of Santa Cecilia, both munching on street food. “It’s not like quarterly report meetings are that important to your financial wellbeing as well as the thousands of people who work under you. And the board was even willing to come all the way to Santa Cecilia just so it wouldn’t upset your holiday plans.”

Héctor waved him off. “Ah, Chente, I’m just a figurehead for the company. You’re the one who should care about these things, not me. I’m like the uh… I’m the King George to your Neville Chamberlain!”

“It’s Churchill now.”

“Whatever. The point is you take care of the important stuff while I force a grin and wish the shareholders a happy holidays once a year.” Héctor grumbled, taking a huge bite of a tortilla filled to the brim with garlic, onions and fried chapulines. “Mmm… Oh yeah, last batch of the season is always the best… Besides I caught some of it. Especially when old man Tapia suggested we shut down some of the soup kitchens. Can you believe it?! That viejo looks like he’s never missed a meal in his life! He has no idea what it’s like to starve or do a hard day’s work for your food. Do you know what my first job was ever?”

“Catching grasshoppers when you were four years old.”

“Catching grasshoppers when I was!-… Oh, I told you that one, huh?” Héctor mumbled. “Well no matter. My grandchildren are coming in from America for the celebration tomorrow. They’ll appreciate my stories!”

Vicente smiled. “Ah, I haven’t gotten to see the newest one yet. It’s nice that they get to experience an authentic celebration for Dia de M-”

“Miguel’s birthday!” Héctor cut in quickly, his grin stretching a little wider than normal. “Si, it’s nice they get to see celebrate their tío’s birthday. All kids love parties, right?”

Vicente winced a little, nervously thumbing through the work papers in his hand. “… Right. Still I love this time of year. I remember being so excited to get to stay up all night for the festivals in my hometown when I was little. Helping my Papá decorate the ofrenda, sampling all the dishes my Mamá and my sisters cooked. The stories. I’m sure your grandchildren will love it. It’s always exciting to experience it the first time with your family when you’re little.”

“Wouldn’t know.” Héctor grumbled around a mouthful of tortilla, his earlier mirth gone. Vicente could tell he was trying to shoot down this conversation flat. “My parents dumped me in the orphanage when I was a baby, and the nuns thought Dia de Muertos was too pagan to celebrate. Didn’t really join in on the festivities until I moved out with E-…” Héctor paused, a flicker of pain in his eyes, before he forcefully swallowed down a too dry bite. “Until I had a family of my own.”

“Ay, Dios mio, speaking of families! Sorry Héctor I forgot.” Flicking through the pages he pulled out a couple of sheets. “I had this under miscellaneous since it had nothing to do with this morning’s meeting, but a certain Señor Domingo Cavallero approached me with this last evening while I was in the market.”

Héctor stared at the papers and groaned in disgust as he took them. “Domingo Cavallero? What does he want?”

Ever since the late elder Cavallero had brutally lost his position of the town’s mayor and the source of his embezzlement was taken from him, the whole family’s wealth had been steadily decreasing over the years. So set in their old ways they had kept up their lavish lifestyle until the pooled funds had trickled down into a puddle. What was once a proud and dignified family now lay on the very brink of heading off to the poor house. Héctor remembered quite clearly ever since he was a little boy the way Domingo had sneered in disgust at him every so often when their paths happened to cross. Now the former mayor’s son was coming to him?

“It seems that he and his son Ignacio are trying to build a hotel nearby. A family venture, he said, though it’s clear it’s a desperate attempt to reclaim their past wealth. I’m assuming they’ve scrounged up whatever money they’ve got left over to fund it but it’s not enough. They are humbly asking for a donation from you to make their dream come true… Or, rather, as humble as they are capable. I spent two minutes with the man and his son, and it was two minutes too many.”

“’El Dorado.’” Héctor read the description. “Hmph, very original… ‘A glorious extravaganza that combines superb customer service, gourmet meals delivered right to your room, and an astounding décor guaranteed to amaze and excite every guest.’”

“Sí. They’ve included blueprints and an artist’s rendering of the place to further incite you.”

Flipping to the next page, Héctor’s eyes widened as he looked at the illustrated drawing of what looked like the main lobby: Everything was gold. Gold furniture, gold wallpaper, gold plants. The wet bar, the piano in the lounge. Carpet, drapery, every single item nearly the exact same shade of gold. Not one other color to balance it out, not even a white or a brown. Just gold and gold alone.

“…This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve been told Ignacio came up with the theme himself.”

“That’s not saying much. How much are they asking me to contribute?”

“Oh, roughly seventy five percent.”

“Seventy-five?!” Héctor sputtered, folding the sheets in half and flinging them back to Vicente as if holding them anymore would burn his skin. “Why don’t I just pay for the whole damn thing myself?! Anyone with half a brain cell can tell that that… thing… wouldn’t last even half a year. Well, you can tell them that I am simply not interested in putting my time and effort into a lost cause.”

“Wh-?... Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Héctor looked over to see Vicente with his face in his hand in frustration, and grimaced. “What, you think I should pay money for this basura?”

Vicente looked up. “Huh? Oh, no, I agree. It’s an eye sore. I’m sorry Héctor, but something’s just come up. I need to go to the cemetery for a minute, I’ll meet you at the house for lunch. Adios!”

Héctor blinked, just now noticing that they were in front of the town’s cemetery. As he watched Vicente head straight towards Ern-… The biggest mausoleum in the center of it all, he immediately turned heel and walked away as quickly as he could. All he needed to do was wind through some off the path streets, far away from the plaza, and he would be home. It would take longer, but that was okay. All the more time to plan for Miguel’s birthday surprise tomorrow. Héctor smiled, he was so excited to see Miguel’s face light up when he told him the big news. And he would have to thank Chente afterwards, he gave him the idea after all! He couldn’t w-

“Arf!”

“Gyah!”

Looking down Héctor sighed in relief when he just saw Dante, once again, sneak up on him and scare the living daylights out of him. And he wasn’t so sure if it was purely unintentional on the dog’s part either. “Hola Dante. You’re looking… remarkably well these days, especially for a twenty-year-old dog. No arthritis, vision loss, anything?… Sometimes I think you won’t die until you take me with you, the way you keep scaring me.”

Dante yipped again and gently tugged on Héctor’s pants leg, pulling him back towards the road to the plaza, but Héctor shook free of him. “Stop it Dante. If you’re going to the plaza you can bother someone else there. Because I’m not going. Now go on.”

Ignoring the whine of the dog behind him, Héctor made his way home. He had a party to organize, after all. And a surprise.

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

Walking up the path towards the mausoleum, glancing around to see if there was no one else within earshot to hear them, Vicente approached the man standing at the front gate glaring inside. Wrapped up in a thick poncho and wrinkled baggy pants, he held a cigar to the side before bringing it in for a thick puff. His wild sandy brown hair, thin patchy facial hair and piercing golden eyes made him look like he was a dirty vagabond no different from the ones lounging out in the street of the slums. No one would ever be able to tell that he was actually the head of the entire art department for Rivera de la Cruz productions with several prestigious awards to his name.

Especially not the way he was pouting childishly at the painting of Ernesto de la Cruz mounted high above his crypt and his shiny golden guitar.

“Javier, what are you doing back here?” Vicente asked tiredly.

“Just looking at the artistic travesty that has the power to make every true artist unfortunate to lay eyes on it retch in disgust.” Javier blew out a thick cloud of smoke, sneering all the while. “Look at it. Any child with a broken crayon could have made a better likeness of Señor de la Cruz.”

“Javi, how many times must we do this?”

Javier ignored him, continuing bitterly. “The background is such a slash and slop of blurs that it gives true focus on the face. That ugly horrid face that looks nothing like the man himself. Such cold, dead, expressionless eyes. You can feel it sucking your soul out.”

“Javi-”

“And that chin cleft. Is it a cleft, or did a psychopath just cut into him with a rusty knife? Might as well have given him a Glasgow grin while we’re at it.”

“Javi!”

“The person who made this painting should be drawn and quartered in front of the entire artistic community in order to avenge the death of art itself!”

Pinching his nose as he felt the pain of a headache coming, Vicente growled out. “Javier, Javi, mi amor… For the millionth time, and I don’t know why I have to keep saying this… YOU painted it!”

“All the more reason why I’m allowed to critique it.” Javier smiled widely in a way he knew always made his lover’s inside squirm. Seeing him flush slightly Javier drew his attention back to the painting. “I can’t believe I used to think that this was my masterpiece. You’d think I was the one on drugs at the time, not the other way around... Heh, though I was tempted to add a few white sprinkles on there. Ha ha!... But seriously this thing is un pedazo de mierda.”

Vicente sighed. “Look, if it bothers you so much maybe you can retouch it a little? Or we can put in another painting.”

Javier whirled around, eyes blazing fire and cheeks burning red. “And sully the greatest contribution to society I have ever made?! Commissioned by Ernesto de la Cruz himself, Mi obra maestra, mon pièce de résistance?! Are you loco?!”

Vicente stared blankly at him, then turned to leave. “I give up. I’m going to the house for lunch. Stay here and starve or come and eat, I don’t care anymore.”

“Ooh, comida!” Hopping down the stairs and running up next to Vicente, he flicked the head of his burnt off cigar up into the air, not caring when it landed in an offering dish of one of the graves with a clang. “Gonna get me some carnitaaas~…”

Fighting back a smile, Vicente pretended to glare at him. “You’re hopeless.”

“I’m hopeless?” Javier chuckled haughtily as he attempted to smooth down his flyaway hair. “No, I’m an artist. I live in the now, paint what’s in my heart, love it and then despise it years down the road. It’s part of the package deal, you’ve known that for a long time. No, you are the one that’s hopeless.”

“Me?”

“Sí, tonto.” Javier said. “This hopeless idea of yours: Getting Héctor Rivera to take his little coddled son under his wing and to pursue music with Rivera de la Cruz Productions. The same man who practically hisses like a cat at the mere sound of even a maraca shaken by a baby? Yes, I do think it’s hopeless. Childish even. A fool’s dream.”

“I think it’s a good idea!” Vicente said grouchily, shoving Javier slightly to the side. “And Héctor has always known that Miguel is nothing like his brother in terms of interests. So, while Mateo works with his mother and follows in her footsteps, literally in their case, heh… then Miguel will follow in his father’s! This will give Miguel an opportunity to branch out on his own and eventually and pursue his musical dreams. Maybe a record producer, or a talent agent. He’ll be surrounded by music. I think it will be a nice birthday present for him from his father. And since it was my idea then technically it’s my present to the boy.”

Javier hummed a little at that, worried. “I don’t know… Are you sure you convinced him properly?”

Vicente huffed. “Please, Javi. If I can convince Pedro Infante to record a cover album of the best of de la Cruz at half his normal pay rate, then I can convince Héctor to let Miguel work in the music industry. Trust me, when this all falls into place, you will be bowing down to me in awe and praise.”

“Ooh, that would be a nice change of pace, eh? Usually it’s the other way around.” Javier smiled widely again, enough to wipe Vicente’s smirk off his reddened face, and was shoved away again with more force.

-------

“Mija, I’m coming in.”

“Is Elena with you?”

“Sí.”

“She’s not allowed in, Mamá! I’ve forbidden her!”

“Too bad, I’m overriding you. Come unlock the door. Now.”

With a loud, drawn out groan Victoria unlocked the door and opened it for her mother to come in. Julio was also with her, holding onto Elena’s tiny hand as the little girl sniffled and glared daggers at her older sister. Victoria stuck her tongue out at her, which Elena paid in kind with a full-blown raspberry. Before a full-blown slap fight could break out Coco flicked both girls on the forehead. “Stop it.”

“She fed my tutu to Diego, Mamá!”

“She called me short and fat!”

“No, I said your legs were-”

“I said stop!” Coco said loudly, and when both girls quieted down she stood over them with her arms crossed. “Now, what do I always say when you two fight over silly things like this?”

The two sisters, still glaring at each other, said through gritted teeth “‘Be nice to your sister, because she’s the only one you’ve got’.”

“That’s right.” Coco said. “You’ll never know how precious she is to you until, somehow, she’s gone for good.”

Both girls immediately looked at their mother with wide eyes before ducking their heads in shame, while Julio gently took his wife’s hand for support. “We’re sorry Mamá.”

Miguel had never known his older sister Leti. Despite all the stories he had heard about her over the years, she was a practical stranger to him. He knew how she had acted with Coco and Matty, but the feeling that he had never had his own relationship with her gave him a weird empty feeling in his chest. He didn’t know how her voice sounded, how she laughed, any of her own special quirks and tics. And yet there was a longing deep within him to know what she was like, so strange to long for something that he never had. He knew, however, that his pain was several times less than the ones who actually knew her.

To break up to sudden tension, Miguel set aside his guitar and grinned. “I guess I’m lucky that my brother and sister are too old to fight with. Older than dirt-OW!”

“I’m not too old to flick you too, gordito.” Coco smirked as Miguel rubbed his stinging forehead. “Now Miguel I know you’re never especially thrilled when it’s your birthday, but I think this year will be different.” Coco said, an excited grin threatening to burst out. “Because I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

Before Coco could elaborate, Elena bounced up and down happily and squealed. “I think I know! Tia Rosita is pregnant again, right?!”

Miguel blinked, completely unsurprised. “Oh, is she?”

Julio snorted derisively and crossed his arms. “That’s not a surprise. That’s becoming an annual holiday itself.”

“Julio!” Coco hissed, glaring at her husband. “That’s not true!”

“She's right, Papá.” Victoria smirked. “Osvaldo and Facunito are only nine and a half months apart.”

“Victoria! Both of you!” Coco sighed in exasperation. “No, Rosita is not pregnant!... I think… Well, she might b- I don’t know! That’s not what the surprise is anyway! This is the surprise!”

A pink sheet of paper was thrust into Miguel’s face, and it took a second for him to focus on what was on it. Decorated with black painted skulls and dancing skeletons, the words ‘Dia De Muertos Talent Show’ stood out in big bold letters. Taking it from his sister’s hands, Miguel looked at it in confusion for just a moment before a creeping sense of understanding and hope started to well within. “The talent show? You mean… I get to go see it?”

“No.”

Miguel sputtered. “Wh-?! What gives Coco?!”

“You’re not going to see it hermanito, you’re going to be in it! I signed you up as the first act and you’re going to play in front of the whole town! Now everyone can finally see how talented you truly are!” Coco cried out, smiling widely and grabbing her astonished little brother into a huge bear hug. “Feliz cumpleaños, Miguel!”

Miguel gaped in awe as his sister let him go, looking at the poster, then his guitar on the bed, then to Coco. Slowly a grin formed on his face and he laughed out loud. “Really?! I’m going to play in the talent show?! I can’t believe it!”

“I want to see that!” Victoria added happily. “That’s so exciting!”

“Gracias, Coco! Gracias gracias gracias-”

“No!” Elena shouted, causing everyone to look at her. The poor girl looked both angry and a little afraid as she clutched her mother’s skirt tightly and tugged it frantically. “No he can’t! It’s one thing to play in the house, but in front of people?! Abuelito will be mad for sure!”

Victoria groaned. “Ay Mamá, why did you have to show Miguel’s secret present in front of el lengua larga? She’ll blab for sure.”

“I won’t blab if he doesn’t go!” Elena cried, and hurried over to Miguel’s guitar. Clumsily she lifted it and placed the large instrument behind her back, as if thinking that if it was out of sight then it was out of mind. “Please don’t perform tío! If you go on stage you’ll be hurt or even killed. Just like Ernesto de la Cruz!”

“That was an accident Elenita. It had nothing to do with music.” Miguel said dismissively. “And what’s so bad about wanting to be like Ernesto de la Cruz? We all used to know him, you didn’t. He was the greatest of all time.”

“You want to end up like him too?! Smooshed flat, and the only thing left of you would be a picture on the ofrenda?!”

Miguel rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I don’t care if I’m on some stupid ofrenda.”

While everyone else in the room winced at Miguel casual disregard for tradition, Elena gasped so long and hard, her eyes and mouth wide with pure horror, it was almost comical. Turning to look at the guitar in her hands, her brow furrowed, and her face scrunched up in absolute hatred and disgust. Lifting the guitar as high as she could go, and with a warlike cry, the brought it to the ground!

*thunk*

….

*thunk*

Coco sighed. “Elena, what are you doing?”

Straining as hard as she could, Elena brought the guitar down again and again. “Mmph!... Trying to- uuff!... break the- nnyah!... guitar!” She tried and tried again, but the instrument was both too sturdy and too cumbersome to maneuver properly, and she lacked both the strength and the force to damage it even a little. The guitar simply made some light twangy sounds as the strings were slightly squeezed and brushed against, almost as if the instrument was just as annoyed as everyone else by what was happening.

“Stop it Elena. You’re going to scratch it!”

“It’s already scratched Miguel. One more won’t hurt it.”

“Callate…”

Huffing with exertion now and sweating, Elena started to struggle with the large object. “I can do it… Haa… haa… I can do it! Gah! Tío, help.”

“No, I’m not gonna help you smash my guitar!” Miguel yelled angrily, swiping the guitar away from her. “I’m playing in the plaza tomorrow for my birthday. Your Mamá gave it to me as a present, and I’m gonna enjoy it! Period!”

“But-!”

“Elena…” Julio said sternly, getting his daughter’s attention. “You won’t say anything to your Abuelito about this, alright? I know you’re afraid of what he might say, but what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. And he won’t know if you don’t say anything. Claro?”

“But-!”

“You must always listen to your parents. Please don’t ruin this for Miguel, okay?”

Elena looked at her parents, then her sister, Miguel, and back to her parents. As her face reddened more and more and her cheeks puffed up to the point of bursting, she fled the room in tears and ran down the hallway wailing. Coco sighed as he watched her daughter run off then patted Miguel on the back. “Don’t worry. Everything will be alright.”

“What if she’s right though?” Miguel asked softly, holding the flyer tightly to his chest as if he was afraid that even that could be taken away from him at any second. “What if Papá finds out? Or Mamá? They would never let me go.”

“We won’t let them find out, we promise.” Coco said gently. “Matty, Victoria and I will be there to cheer you on, while Julio will distract them long enough for you to perform.”

“Th-that’s right!” Julio nodded and laughed nervously. “I mean-… I-I can do that! I can… Lie… to my father-in-law and my mo-… It shouldn’t be too hard, right? I can- Sí, I can do that!”

“Sounds like you’ll need all the help you can get, Julio.” A voice suddenly popped up. “And should I be concerned about Elena flailing about on the couch downstairs? She looked like she was starting to turn blue.”

The four turned and smiled to see Wanda standing in the doorway, dressed in a fancy travel suit and holding a suitcase in one hand. Holding onto her other hand was a small boy, smiling shyly and wearing an adorable cowboy outfit complete with tiny Rivera boots. The small ten gallon hat couldn’t hide the dark wavy curls of his hair poking out from underneath and his face was a little dirt smudged. He carried a brightly wrapped birthday present in his other arm and held it out to Miguel. “Happy birthday, Uncle Miguel.”

“Charlie!” Victoria cried out and enveloped the small boy into a big hug, his round face smooshed against her shoulder. “Charlie, mi primo favorito! Oh Charlie, you look so cute! What are you dressed as?”

Charlie smiled sweetly up at Victoria. “The Lone Ranger. I got a plastic gun and bows and arrows in my bag, too. Can we play?”

“We can later.” Miguel said, taking the present from his nephew and knocking on the top of his hardened cowboy hat. “Thank you for the present, Carlos.”

The little boy’s smile faded and he gave an adorable pout. “My name is Charlie.”

“Not here. In Mexico you’re Carlos.”

“Basta, Miguel!” Victoria snapped, and gave Charlie another hug. “Oh, I missed you so much Charlie. You are my most favorite primo ever. So sweet and cute.”

“What about Dahlia?” Miguel asked. “And Margarita? And Anselmo? And Osvaldo, Facunito, and Amapola?”

“I don’t see him every single day of my life, and he doesn’t drive me crazy as soon as he enters the room.” Victoria said. “That’s what makes him my favorite.” Behind her Julio nodded silently in agreement with a shudder, and Coco swatted him with a glare.

“Matthew has already told me the game plan for tomorrow, Miguel.” Wanda said as she placed Charlie’s suitcase full of toys down and began to unpack it for him. “But if this is going to work then Julio, Coco and I should talk about how we’re going to keep your father from guessing what’s happening. Don’t you worry.”

“Gracias, Wanda.” Miguel said, walking over to hug her in gratitude. “Your Spanish has gotten really good by the way.”

Wanda returned the hug and smiled proudly. “Of course it has. That’s what happens after long term exposure, being outrageously intelligent and having the internal drive to learn new things. I mean seriously, did you have any doubts in my ability to learn it?”

“Sí.” “Yes.” “Sorry.” “I, uh-... Sí…”

Wanda huffed irritably at the slight, but brushed it off and bent down to her son to speak in English. “Now you be careful when you play, alright? Your arm is still a little weak, so be extra gentle. No cops and robbers or anything like that, alright?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“Oh that’s right!” Victoria said, bending down to look the little boy in the eye. “You broke your arm a few months ago! I was so sorry to hear that. Elena even cried when she heard.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too.” Miguel asked. “Did it hurt? What happened?”

Gripping his left arm slightly, Charlie grinned as if he was telling a funny joke. “Daddy is the one who broke my arm.”

“WHAT?!”

“Matty broke your arm?!”

As the two children gasped and shouted at what they heard, both Coco and Julio winced as they looked at Wanda with pity. Wanda placed her hands over her mouth and sighed sadly, shaking her head wearily. “Charlie, you weren’t supposed to tell anyone that.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Miguel shook his head. “Man, you must have gotten into big trouble if Matty broke your arm-OW!” He rubbed his shoulder where Victoria had socked him hard, but before he could say anything Charlie continued.

“He didn’t mean to.” Charlie said softly. “Mommy says something scared him and he was trying to protect me, but did it too hard. Daddy was very sorry, he cried for a long time. I didn’t know grown-up men cried! My arm was in this itchy cast for a long time and Daddy let me eat ice cream for breakfast every day after that!” Charlie’s smile faded at that, and a slightly nauseous grimace passed over him. “I don’t like ice cream any more…”

“Guys listen.” Wanda said to the two older children in a serious tone. “I don’t want you to let Matthew know that you know about this, all right? It is a very sensitive subject that he feels terrible about, I don’t want him to feel any worse. It’s in the past and we’re moving forward.”

“Is Matty all right?” Miguel asked softly.

“He’s fine.” Wanda said assuredly, holding her son closely. “We’re all going to be fine. Just like tomorrow is going to be fine. Don’t worry. Everything is under control.”

-----

Héctor smiled as he held the whining baby high above his head, puffing out his cheeks and crossing his eyes until she dissolved into giggles. Lowering her down he blew loud raspberries onto each cheek until she squealed before giving her a kiss on the forehead. It was such a treat to see his granddaughter Clara again, not having seen her since shortly after her birth. Living in the United States prevented him from seeing her and Charlie regularly, so he relished the opportunity to see and hold her while she was still so small. He was also happy to see that after five months her eyes still had the same lovely shade of blue as her mother’s, his only grandchild to have different colored eyes. As the baby quieted down again, he nodded to his son. “Keep going mijo.”

Matty nodded somberly, downing his cup of coffee and handing it over for Imelda to refill. He nervously fidgeted with the polished knob of his cane, a necessity for his damaged leg, and shook his head with intense remorse.

“It was an old truck backfiring.” Matty said quietly. “It was so loud and sudden, especially on a quiet street. We were just walking to the park, talking amongst ourselves, and then ‘bang!’… Dios, it took just a millisecond. At that moment I wasn’t in Houston anymore, I swear all I could see was smoke and all I could smell was mud and decay and-…I just reacted.”

“The next thing I knew Charlie was underneath me, and he was screaming… I was frozen, just watching my son scream in pain, until Wanda was shouting ‘Get off of him Matt! Get off of him!’… Wanda rode with him in the ambulance, and she took the baby too, because I couldn’t touch her. I couldn’t touch him for days, I just felt so sick with what I had done to my little boy. Not even five years old and I had broken his arm. I tackled my son, trying to protect him by reflex, and I broke his pinche arm. Dios, Wanda was holding our newborn daughter at the time, if it had been them that I-!”

“Shh…” Imelda hushed him, rubbing his white knuckled grip on his cane until his fingers loosened. “But you didn’t. They’re both fine, and so is Charlie. They all know that you didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Matty nodded shakily, smiling at his mother in thanks. “Yeah… Yeah, I know. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that, but my therapist says that line of thinking is normal for someone with my condition. I’m trying to get better-”

“You’re seeing a shrink?” Héctor asked, his brow furrowing to show his confusion and slight aversion to the very idea. “But why? Everything turned out alright, Charlie’s arm is better. It’s fine.”

“No, Papá, it’s not fine. In fact, it hasn’t been fine for a very long time for me.” Matty said. “Over the years a lot of things have bothered me. Certain smells trigger images in my mind, I can’t stand the sound of fireworks, even low flying planes make me freeze up and panic. I’ve been dealing with it for years by simply avoiding it, like not accompanying my family for Fourth of July picnics or other situations where these triggers might occur. But this last incident made me realize that I can’t avoid the unpredictable.”

Héctor still looked uncertain as Matty spoke, but Imelda nodded encouragingly for him to continue.

“Wanda recommended a therapist from the hospital she works at. He’s good, Papá. He diagnosed me with shell-shock, something that a lot of former soldiers get so it’s not just me. But that's not all. He says my triggers go all the way back to Leti’s death, how it still affects my emotions and my interactions with my family to this day. I’m sure you all already know about that, but I didn’t really see it until he spelled it out for me. That I sometimes hurt them, and you guys, unintentionally. That I’m somewhat, well… emotionally stunted. But he’s been helping me a great deal. I feel like I’m making progress so far.”

“That’s wonderful, mijo.” Imelda said, leaning over to kiss his cheek and grimacing at the scratchiness of it. “Maybe your therapist can convince you to shave as well.”

“I can’t.” Matty laughed, running his fingers down his goatee and grateful for the well-intentioned nagging to lighten the mood. “Last time I did Charlie cried for a whole day; thought I was a stranger instead of his Daddy. I’d hate to do that to Clara as well.”

Héctor cleared his throat uncomfortably, then turned his attention back to the baby in his arms. “Sí, well good for you mijo. If you think that’s what you need then I’m happy for you. And this little girl is happy too. Aren’t you, cileita? Look at Abuelito. Ay, que lindaaa…”

As Héctor babbled and cooed at the baby, he didn’t notice that Matty and Imelda exchanged worried glances at each other. He continued until Matty cleared his own throat to get his attention, and his smile faded when he saw the two of them staring intently at him. “What?”

Standing up and walking with the aid of the cane, Matty reached out an arm and gently took his daughter out of Héctor’s hold. “Um, Papá… What I just told you about my struggles… Didn’t that seem at all, I don’t know… Familiar to you in any way?”

Héctor blinked dumbly at that, starting to not like how Imelda was starting to look sad as she stared at him. “No?”

Matty huffed out a sigh. “Come on, Papá. You must see where I’m coming from: Triggers that upset you, make you angry and in turn upset everyone around you? Avoidance of certain stimuli, to the point of outright banning it? Do you understand?”

“Oh… Oh!” Héctor laughed out, relieved. “Oh, I understand what you’re saying now. The music thing. Listen, it’s just not my kind of thing anymore. I know I owe a great deal to it, that the whole family does, but it’s time to move on. There’s more to our business than music, you know. There’s the hospitals, the schools, the canning factories, and of course the shoe business that you have turned into an empire all by yourself, my clever boy. Did I hear that they’re going to be on almost every athlete’s feet in the Olympics next year?”

“Please don’t change the subject, Papá.” Matty said in exasperation. “It’s not like you don’t care for music anymore Papá. You can’t stand it. You’re afraid of it.”

Héctor smiled, again a little too widely, and patted his son’s shoulder. “You think that- Ay yi yi, such a sweet boy, thinking about your Papá like that. Well you don’t have to worry about me, Matty.”

“Papá, you don’t listen to music. You don’t want anyone to listen to music. You’re avoiding it because it’s a trigger! And the thing about triggers is sometimes you can’t avoid them. If you don’t prepare yourself you could end up hurting yourself or worse: someone you love!”

“I don’t have what you have, Mateo. That, uh-… shell-shock, right? No, I don’t have it. I’m not a soldier, this is completely different.”

“It doesn’t always have to be about fighting in a war Papá.” Matty explained. “It can be caused by a very traumatic event that you witness. And I can’t think of anything more traumatic than watching your best friend-”

“I do not… have… shell shock!” Héctor snapped, pointing a finger to both his son and his wife. “We don’t need music, we’ve gone nine years without it, and we’re fine. I don’t avoid it, I just don’t like it anymore. I’m not like you, alright?! I don’t need help! I don’t need a shrink! I’m not crazy!”

“Héctor!”

At his wife’s hissing voice Héctor stopped his tirade in shock. Clara was crying in her father’s arms, deeply disturbed that the sweet old man who had held her before was now loud and scary. And Matty looked at his father, jaw clenched and eyes downcast. His throat bobbed a few times and Héctor saw his lips tremble a little before he looked up to glare at his father.

“You think… I’m crazy, Papá?”

“No!” Héctor gasped, placing his hands gently on his son. “Oh no, not you mijo, no… You’re uh… a special case. You have a condition, si? Happens to soldiers all the time, like you said right? If it makes you feel better than I’m all for it! You go to your shrink, and-”

“It’s therapist, Héctor.” Imelda said harshly, glaring at him as she moved to stand next to her son. “Not shrink. You say it like it’s a disease.”

Héctor sagged, not looking either of them in the eye anymore. “Therapist, right…”

Not liking how the fun visit with his son and granddaughter had turned so toxic and claustrophobic so fast, Héctor inched his way out the door to make a hasty retreat. “Listen, I think we need to just forget about this, so I’ll just leave for a while. I’m gonna go to the house- I mean… the museum. Get it all ready for the party tomorrow. That’s why you’re here, right Matty? Gotta make it a special day for your brother! Okay, I’ll see you later!”

As they both watched Héctor race towards the garage in an effort to get as far away and as fast as possible, Matty soothed his daughter back into an easy slumber and mumbled softly. “I’m here for my sister too… Guess he’s avoiding that as well…”

“I’m so sorry, Mateo.” Imelda hugged her son close and rubbed his back. “He didn’t mean to upset you. I know you tried to help, but he needs to want to be helped, claro?”

“He’s only getting worse Mamá.”

Imelda shook her head. “He’s not usually this bad. He has his good days more than his bad. It’s just that this time of year is so hard on him, you understand right? It was a terrible day for all of us, but even more so for your father. It nearly destroyed him.”

“I just wanted to help him. Help all of us… At least I tried.”

“Yes you did. It will be alright, mijo.” She smoothed back his hair and took the sleeping baby from his arms to give her a kiss. “Let’s change the subject, sí? I want to know all about your plans for Helsinki next year! How many pairs of shoes are we talking about?”

Matty smiled softly at his mother, letting her drag him into a boring, yet calming, conversation about shoes once again to soothe the pain of his father’s words. As he and Imelda talked about the Olympics next year, the upcoming winter catalogue, the demand to not smoke in the kitchen, and the vague plans of expanding to include a clothing line in the upcoming future, things seemed to fall back into a relative peace. There was still hurt there in Héctor’s heart, but nothing they couldn’t overcome as a family.

Things couldn’t possibly get any worse, right?

-----

As Victoria put away her pointe shoes into it’s shoe box she looked up to see Miguel staring at the contest poster.

Again.

For probably the billionth time within the last hour.

Her Mamá’s surprise had really put a damper on their little practice session, and soon even Charlie had grown bored with the lack of guitar playing from his tío and had gone off to play with Elena instead. Miguel just sat and stared at the poster with that dumb grin on his face, tracing the letters and illustrations with reverence like he did with all his other de la Cruz memorabilia.

But even if she felt like she didn’t get enough practice in, Victoria found that she didn’t really mind it in the slightest. She could see Miguel already going through the performance in his head, his eyes closing momentarily as if basking in applause that only he could hear. Then he’d continue to look at the poster and the process would repeat.

It was dumb, but Victoria was glad. It was about time Miguel was excited about something for his birthday. She couldn’t wait to see the performance herself. And maybe, hopefully, this would be a stepping stone for her. Maybe she would one day get to perform on stage, maybe even get a real teacher. Share a stage with her ballet idols. It was exciting to think about, but for now she would just be happy for Miguel.

“So, musico…” Victoria hummed, smiling when Miguel dumbly broke free from his trance to look at her. “What are you going to play tomorrow?”

With an excited grin, Miguel looked at the poster again and nodded to himself. Confidently. Assuredly. “Definitely Remember Me!”

Victoria sighed. “Why did I even ask?”

[parkersharthook]

All My Sides Ch. 1

(Peter Parker x female!reader)

warnings: shitting exposition, alien tech, angst

5.2k+ words

In which spiderman isn’t really spiderman anymore.

“Of course.” Happy sighed in annoyance when he came face to face with what was causing him trouble. More appropriately, who was causing him trouble.

Peter smiled cheekily at the older man, “Hey Happy.”

Happy shook his head and rolled a finger over another, “hurry up out here. Boss man is waiting for you.” Peter nodded but returned to his previous position with his back leaning against the outside wall of the Stark Tower. Y/n was standing between his widened legs and had her thumbs trailing lightly over his shirt collar. Her lip was pulled between her teeth in amusement as she tried to hold back her laughter over the entire interaction. Peter nodded towards Happy who rolled his eyes and walked back into the lobby of the tall tower.

Peter’s hands found their way back to her hips and pulled her slightly closer. He pressed his lips against hers in a light kiss, “I’ll see you later tonight?” She hummed with a small smile on her face causing Peter to silently cheer before she gave him a small frown.

Y/n mumbled against his lips, “visiting the parents for the weekend. Rain check.”

Peter dropped his head against the wall and pouted obnoxiously, “c’mon babe. This is my first weekend that Mr. Stark hasn’t given me some chore or busy work.”

She poked his chest lightly “yeah and it’s my first weekend without work. You could come with me, you know. They’d love to see you again.”

Peter clicked his tongue, “you mean your mom would love to see me again. Your dad could go his whole life without seeing me again.”

She laughed slightly and patted his cheek, “you’re growing on him, I promise. But no worries, I’m excited to get a family weekend.”

Peter smiled at her enthusiasm and visible happiness, “Well tell them that I say hello and I promise that I’ll join you next time. And tell your brothers they still owe me a rematch in Mario Kart.”

She bit her lip and nodded as she scrunched her nose, “You’re cute.”

Peter pecked the tip of her nose, “You’re cuter.”

An obnoxious cough interrupted the two and Peter lazily lolled his head to the side to see Happy standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, looking even more annoyed than before, if that was possible. Peter nodded noncommittally, “yeah yeah I’m coming.”

She gave him another small kiss before patting his chest and backing up, “I’ll see you Sunday night.”

“Okay, text me when you get there safely. Leaving tonight?”

“Yeah I just have to stop by my apartment and pick up my bag. Then I am out.”

“Alright. I’ll see you in a few days.” he kissed her just once more, mostly because he couldn’t help himself. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Peter was about to go in for yet another kiss when Happy grabbed the back of his collar and began dragging him into the tower. Peter scrambled to get his feet beneath him as he watched Y/n laugh before turning in the direction of her apartment. Peter shook Happy off of him as they entered the lobby. “Geez Hap. And here I was starting to think you were beginning to like me.”

Happy scoffed as he watched Peter search through his backpack for his key card. Peter finally found it and swiped it through the machine before walking through the metal detector and walking towards the elevator. Peter gave a sloppy wave to Happy as he entered the elegant elevator. Peter waited for the doors to close completely before speaking, “Hey Fri. Avengers floor please.”

“Of course Mr. Parker.”

“Aww c’mon now Fri. How many times do I gotta tell ya? It’s supreme being of the tower.”

“Of course it is Mr. Parker.” Peter rolled his eyes at the somehow evident sarcasm in the AI’s tone. He exited the elevator once the doors opened and walked down the wide hallway to the common room. He found the other avengers scattered around the room. “Hello friends!”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the boisterous entrance of the boy before returning to his book. Peter dropped his backpack by the door and threw himself onto the couch, plopping his feet on Wanda’s lap. She pursed his lips at his shoed feet and gave him a look. Peter snickered slightly before kicking his shoes off and laying his feet back on her lap.

Tony entered the room a moment later, “Good the kid’s here.”

Clint flicked Peter’s ear as he walked by and settled on a plush chair, “finally stopped sucking on your girlfriend’s face I see.”

Peter scoffed and waved his hand towards the man dramatically, “please... if anything she was sucking on my face. I am an elegant kisser.”

Sam grimaced, “Can you please shut up parker?”

“What? Mad you ain’t getting anything?” Peter quipped back easily. Wanda didn’t even try to conceal her laughter but quickly stopped as she watched Sam’s face fall.

He narrowed his eyes, “I’m getting plenty. Thanks for the concern though pipsqueak.”

Peter sang mockingly, “I’m taller than you.”

“Okay you two. Save your hilarious banter for later.” Steve scolded as he walked into the room with Natasha right behind him. “We have more pressing matters to attend to.”

Everyone perked up slightly and Bucky rose a brow, “what’s going on?”

Tony took the floor this time, “we’ve got a new alien weapon coming in and I need some help with this one.”

Sam shrugged as he looked over the file that was tossed onto the table, “isn’t science kind of your forte? What do you need with us?”

“Well I need some of you to retrieve the weapon.”

“I thought you said it was being delivered.”

Tony hesitated, “it is but it’s being delivered to SHIELD for security purposes and I need you three super soldier people to bring it here. I don’t want any SHIELD agent handling it. We don’t know what it does and we don’t know what anyone’s intentions are.”

Sam frowned slightly, “So you want us to risk ourselves when we don’t know what it does?”

“Since when is that new.” Bucky retorted.

“I want you guys to pick it up because I trust you guys.” Tony said seriously, “I know the three of you will get it here without improper use of it.”

Steve opened the file and thumbed through the pages. “What are the specifics of the gun?”

Natasha spoke up this time, “We don’t really know any. It was found in a warehouse run by a gang in the Bronx. Standard gang infiltration and take down by some new agents. A type of new training SHIELD is conducting. Well they found this gun and reported it to SHIELD, scientists there ran some tests but everything was inconclusive.”

“Why? The tests didn’t come back?”

Natasha shook her head, “They didn’t have the right approach or technology.”

“They never do…” Tony said as he typed something on his phone.

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Anyways. They were going to transport it here earlier today but it released a type of energy pulse so they left it alone to be stabilized and it’s been fine since. Tony then decided that it was best if we handled it.”

Peter sat up almost giddy, “An energy pulse? What did it do? Any effects?”

“None reported. The agents that were in the vicinity seemed unharmed and were tested. None have reported any abnormalities or anything. They were given a week’s stay in the HQ’s medical to keep an eye on them in case any late occurring effects show. We’ve requested for them to report anything they find immediately.”

Wanda chewed on her thumbnail. She hated alien tech, and boy was she tired of it. “Do we have the technology and equipment to test it and store it?”

Tony scoffed and looked towards her, “I’m offended Maximoff. Of course I have the technology for it.”

She nodded but continued on, “I just don’t like the idea of bringing an unfamiliar alien gun with no known effects that releases energy pulses into the tower. You know the tower that holds 2 super soldiers, an enhanced kid- “not a kid Wanda” – a god sometimes, an android, numerous pieces of highly weaponizable technology, and a witch. How do we know how all of us will interact with an energy pulse like that?”

Tony sighed, “Well we don’t so yes we’ll be taking a slight risk but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. I have all of the precautions already set up. A containment box has been made and I’m hoping that it’ll be a quick study of the gun.”

Everyone took time to consider the risks they’d be making and figured that this was the job. They needed to take risks so others were safe. Wanda just gave him a small shrug and nod.

“So you need me, Sam, and Steve to pick it up?” Bucky asked as he set the files back on the glass desk.

“Well whoever’s available really but I assumed the three of you would like to take it.”

Steve shrugged and nodded, “I’m fine with that.” The other two nodded in agreement.

Tony smiled and picked up the files, “Awesome well Fury is expecting you guys tomorrow. So until then… movie night!”

“I’m still on the fact that you said three super soldier and were considering me one of them.” Sam said with a cocky smirk making Bucky hit him upside the head. Everyone laughed.

~.~

Peter was able to slip out of the tower rather quickly, due to everyone either sleeping or just not paying attention. Peter’s pretty sure that either Nat or Bucky saw him leave but he wasn’t concerned about them telling on him. But now as Peter sat on top of roof, his feet dangling over the side, he got more and more concerned over whether or not an iron man suit would show up in front of his face.

He put the worries behind him as his phone that was hidden in his thigh pocket began to buzz. He quickly unzipped the pocket and fished out the small piece of technology. A smile broke out beneath his mask as he answered the phone and held it up to his ear.

“hey babe.”

“Hey Peter.”

“How are you? How’s your family?”

“Peter? Uh I don’t know if you can hear me but I can’t hear you.”

Peter chuckled slightly as he laid back on the brick roof, pulling his mask up and off his head. He smiled as he talked, “hear me now?”

“Yeah, perfectly. Where were you?”

“I’m out patrolling. My mask was on. So how’s your family?”

“They’re really good. My mom made that lasagna that I really like so I was kind of glad you weren’t there so I got more. I know how you can eat.” Peter let out a harsh laugh as she giggled, “But no they’re all really good. My dad is a little stressed over some big thing that’s happening at the station. How’s it there? Stopping crime?”

Peter shrugged slightly, kicking his legs back in forth where they hung over the edge. “Not that much crime out right now. Guess it’s the changing weather. Even criminals get cold. But everything is good over here. The team is good, they’re all at the tower watching awful movies.”

Y/n giggled again, “and you aren’t there with them? How are you gonna bond with them?”

“Trust me, I do not need to bond with them. Plus, it’s nice out here on these rooftops. The lack of criminals plus the minimal stars is truly amazing.”

“But…?”

Peter sighed, “But it’d be better if you were here.” Peter laughed, “Look at what you’ve done to me Y/n. I’m now all sappy and stupid in love because of you.”

She rolled her eyes, “wow I’m so sorry for your loss.” There was a small lull in the conversation, “Well I have to help my brother with his homework and then I’m going to go to bed.” Y/n let out a breathy laugh, “my mom has a full day planned for the two of us tomorrow, so I need to get mentally ready for that.”

Peter smiled, “I’m sure it’s going to be great. Well I’ll let you go so you can sleep. Tell your family I say hi.”

“I will. Goodnight Peter. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Peter didn’t really want to hang up but eventually he heard that tone that met the call was over. He sighed slightly and turned his phone back off, shoving it in his pocket and pulling his mask back over his face. A siren began to wail in the distance.

Peter stood up and shook the dust off of his suit and shaking out his limbs. “Time to work.”

~.~

Peter eventually got back to the tower just before the sun was above the horizon. He didn’t mean to get back so late but he just carried away with swinging through the city feeling the crisp air fly around him. He loved being out there and as the moon rose higher Peter just got more and more restless. It wasn’t until the sky began to turn a light shade of pink that Peter began his travel home and came in through the open window to his room. He had closed the window quietly and peeled off his suit, throwing it in a pile near his closet. He crawled under the covers with just a pair of sweatpants on and quickly fell asleep.

~.~

“Kid, get up we got sciencing to do. Bruce is already in the lab!” Tony called through the crack in the door. Peter stirred around in the bed, slowly opening and rubbing at his eyes.

“What time is it?”

“Almost 2 in the afternoon. Get up, the guys just brought the gun and I want to start looking at it.”

Peter swiped the covers off of him and threw his legs over one side of the bed, “Start without me. I’ll be down in a little bit.” Tony nodded and headed down towards the lab as Peter went to his bathroom to shower.

Thirty minutes later Peter walked into the lab to see Bruce, Tony, and Vision standing quite close to the glass box that held the gun. Peter lightly knocked on the door frame to not disturb the men and entered the pristine lab. “So what’s going on with the gun?”

Bruce shrugged and moved his glasses up slightly on his nose, “not completely sure yet. Nothing seems unusual about it actually. It just seems like a military grade gun.”

“Then how do we know its alien?” Peter asked as he stepped closer.

Vision pointed to a small glowing blue cube, “that. We believe it something akin to the tesseract.”

“Is it the tesseract?”

Tony shook his head, “not completely. It doesn’t have the same readings as the scepter or the tesseract but its close.”

“Sir, Captain Rogers is requesting Dr. Banner and your presence in the conference room. Something about General Ross.”

“Thanks Friday, tell Steve we’ll be up in a minute.”

“Captain Rogers says it’s urgent.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “yeah yeah I’m coming.” Tony threw his eye glasses on the table and walked towards the door with Bruce behind him. He looked back at Peter and Vision, “don’t do anything stupid. In fact, don’t do anything. Wait til we come back.”

Peter just waved him off, “don’t worry about it Mr. Stark.”

A moment later Friday came back over the speakers, “Mr. Vision, Ms. Maximoff is requesting your presence in the common kitchen for a moment.”

Peter saw Vision have the faintest ghost of a smile as he nodded, “Please tell her that I’m on my way up. Don’t touch anything Peter.” And soon enough Peter was left in the lab unsupervised with an alien weapon. But of course, he wasn’t stupid so he just pulled out his phone and sat down on a nearby stool.

Peter: hey I’m bored. What are you doing?

Y/n: hey bored, I’m Y/n :P

Peter: oh you think you’re so cute don’t you.

Y/n: yeah kind of. What’s up?

Peter shifted on the stool slightly causing a jar of pencils to go clattering to the floor. He winced at the loud sound of metal on metal and set his phone down to pick up the canister. As soon as his fingertips touched the cool metal, his Spidey senses flared dramatically. He looked up towards the gun to see a growing blue light surround the weapon.

Nerves grew in Peter’s stomach, “Friday tell Mr. Stark to get down here immediately. Tell him something is up with the gun.”

“Mr. Parker I advise you to leave the room before something goes wrong.”

Peter glanced around before nodding, “yeah that sounds smart.” Peter stepped off of the stool before the gun emitting a loud piercing nose and the blue light soared across the room. Peter shielded his eyes and face. He lowered his arms as the energy around him settled down.

“Kid you okay?” Tony said breathlessly as he came down the stairs.

Peter nodded sloppily. He swayed slightly on his feet, “just peachy… Mr. Stark I don’t feel so good.” And with that Peter collapsed. Tony barely managed to catch his head before he hit the hard tiled floor. Tony called out to the team and for the med bay to be prepared immediately.

Y/n: you there Pete?

~.~

“I told you this was a bad idea.” Wanda said frantically as she paced the hospital room, “we had no idea what that thing does and now Peter’s here in a hospital bed.” She whirled on her heel to face Tony, “what part of you thought this was smart?!”

Bucky was immediately in front of her, his large hands lightly placed on her shoulders practically keeping her from jumping the genius. He whispered quietly, “go walk around the tower. Calm yourself down.”

Wanda didn’t acknowledge the fact that he said anything but instead just turned sharply on her heel and bounded out of the room angrily. Vision followed the fuming girl until the rest of the team could no longer hear her.

Sam lifted his head from his hands to share a humorless chuckle, “if Peter was awake I bet he’d be like ‘whoa there Bucky you’ve got a girlfriend who could kill you a thousand different ways if you keep looking at Wanda like that.’” The team could appreciate the idea of the joke but it fell flat on Sam’s tongue.

“You said it wrong.” Peter’s voice was hoarse and cracked as he rubbed his heavy eyelids, “that delivery wasn’t even funny.” Everyone was around his bedside immediately.

Steve smiled at the boy, “hey kid. How you feeling?”

“Like you dropped an airport loading tunnel on me and I didn’t catch it.” He sent a wink Steve’s way before turning to Sam, “And that’s how you make a joke.”

“We were getting worried you wouldn’t wake up.” Clint said as he checked his watch, “we’re going on hour 7.”

Natasha scoffed, “Please. Dr. Cho said he was fine. Plus he’s a spider. We’ve got that special thing, we don’t die.”

Peter laughed slightly and raised his hand for a fist bump, “heck yeah.” he smirked at the team, “it’s a spider thing.” Natasha didn’t return the fist bump and just shook her head at the younger boy.

Tony looked at the boy with guilt in his eyes, “but you feel alright?”

“I’m really tired but other than that, yeah I feel fine.”

Tony nodded and chewed on his thumbnail, “okay that’s good. I’m gonna go continue working.” He left the room before anyone could protest causing Peter to sigh.

“I’m gonna take another nap but please don’t let Tony blame himself. I’m fine.” The team nodded and wished Peter good health before leaving the room. Peter sighed at the now empty space, feeling the heaviness of his head already take over his body. He vaguely remembered the feeling of needed to text or call someone but he just blamed it on the fogginess of his memory at the moment. He shrugged internally and closed his eyes, letting an even deeper sleep overtake him.

~.~

Peter woke up to the sun shining brightly in his eyes. God how long did I sleep? He groaned slightly as he tried to shield his eyes. The sunlight always gave him headaches this early, especially with his enhanced eyesight. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. He opened his eyes carefully, finding his vision to be blurry. He wiped his eyes once more, panic slowly rising in his gut as his vision didn’t clear up. Peter’s breath came in short pants as he ran his hands through his hair.

A knock on the door paused his movements. “Hey Peter, Friday said you wanted to see me.”

Peter silently thanked the AI for sending Wanda his way. He was way more comfortable talking to her about this. He began nervously, “Wanda I need you to do me a favor.”

She stepped into the room, “Sure what’s up?”

“Can you do it no questions asked?”

She hesitated, “Um…. sure? Peter what’s going on?”

“I need you to go into my room and find a cardboard box in the back of closet, it has a lot of my old stuff. There should be a pair of glasses in there. I need you to get them.”

Wanda let out a small laugh, “why do you need your glasses?”

Peter narrowed his eyes at her, “I said no questions asked.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, “Okay whatever. Yeah I’ll bring you the glasses. Need anything else?”

“If anyone asks, I’m sleeping. I don’t want to talk to anyone yet.”

Wanda just shook her head at the boy, “Sure… whatever you say Peter.” Peter was a jittery mess the few minutes Wanda was gone. She had returned rather quickly and handed the glasses to Peter. He quickly slipped them on his face and felt tears pull to the surface as his vision cleared. He frowned deeply and rolled one of his thumbs over the other, not making eye contact with the concerned Wanda.

“Peter, what is going on?”

He glanced up at her, “I think I know what the gun does.”

~.~

“How do we even test it?” Bucky asked

Peter let out a small chuckle, “We could drop a building on me. That’ll show us pretty quickly.” He noticed their frowns at his lame joke, “Right got it. Not funny. Not the time for joking.”

“Is there a way to… you know… test it? Without you hurting yourself?”

“How much could you lift before?” Sam looked at the kid

“Not that much. Never really lifted weights then. And we don’t have an exact number now either.”

“Let’s just take him to the gym then.” Sam suggested as if it were nothing, “Can’t lift the weights… there’s the answer.”

“You talk about this like it isn’t something inside my body.” Peter said with a small scowl. Frustration was beginning to bubble within him.

“Peter…” Steve started slowly, “Trust me. I understand. But that is the place we should start. We’ll test your strength first and take it from there.”

Suddenly a small cheerio came flying through the air and hit Peter in the temple. He lightly touched the spot it hit and looked over to see Natasha, her face paler than before. “Peter…”

“I’ve got to go.” this was all too real for him. He couldn’t handle this. He quickly walked from the kitchen area, despite his team’s yelling and bounded down the stairs. He found himself on the street quickly, but still slower than usual though and more out of breath. He shoved his hands in his sweatpants pockets and walked down the street. It was weird for him. Sure, he still walked all the time but the fact that he couldn’t do anything else even if he wanted to… he didn’t like that.

His hands were shaking inside his pockets, his fingers itching to do something other than pick at his nails. He found himself headed back in the direction of his old apartment, the familiar streets comforting him. He paused on a corner and took a look around. He hated how his feet just took him wherever. He knew exactly where he was but he wasn’t entirely too sure that he was happy about it. He took slow precise steps down the street before pausing in front of a convenient store. He took a large breath before entering through the doors, the harsh lights not hurting his eyes as he expected them too. A small bell dinged above him causing the bored cashier to look up. Peter didn’t make eye contact as he began to wander aimlessly down the aisles. He paused every now and then, imagining what his uncle was actually looking for when the two of them went in there.

“Hey! If you’re not gonna buy anything…” The cashier let the sentence dangle but Peter filled in the blanks. He just nodded and left the store, not realizing how long he had actually been in there. Stopping to lean against the outside wall, he braced himself with his hands on his knees. His breath came heavy. His phone began to vibrate in his pocket and Peter really didn’t want to look at his phone, but he did. It was Y/n. He didn’t know if he could handle it, but he also realized he needed some normalcy.

“Hey babe.” his voice came out breathy.

“Hey, just calling to see what’s up.”

Peter dropped into a crouch, still leaning against the brick wall. “Not much. Me and Tony were working in the lab. It went… well.” He decided not to tell her the truth.

“That’s good. I hear some traffic, where are you right now?”

He didn’t even glance around, “Just getting some coffee. How’s your family?”

“Good. My dad is even more stressed than last night so it’s kind of good that you didn’t come… no offense.” Peter found himself laughing, “But mom is really good. Happy to have me back.”

“Of course she is. What about your brothers?”

“They’re good. They’re stressed with school but I’m able to help them out which is nice.” Peter had a small smile gracing his face, and silent tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t know what was going to happen.

“That’s really sweet of you.”

“You doing okay, Peter?” he could practically hear her smile. He couldn’t ruin her day.

“Yep… everything is great. Just kind of tired. Miss you of course.”

“Don’t worry Mr. Clingy. I’ll be home late tomorrow.”

Peter swallowed, “Take your time. Have fun with your family.”

“I will. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Peter nodded weakly, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Come back to the tower.” The voice should have surprised him. He had no previous warning of a person standing next to him. But it was Nat’s voice. And she had always been able to sneak up on him.

“I just… I need some time.”

“To do what?”

“I don’t know…” Peter flailed his arms around as he stood upright, “Adjust?”

“Adjust to what?” She turned to face him, lowering the tinted glasses off her eyes. “You don’t even know if anything has changed.”

“And maybe I don’t want to know! What happened to ignorance is bliss?!”

“That went away when you became Spiderman.” She lowered her voice, “you know that.”

He didn’t say anything but his thoughts were running wild. Well that’s fitting…

His tears were flowing more steadily now. “Peter.” her voice was uncharacteristically soft. “Come back to the tower. We’ll sort this all out. We’ll help you… I promise.”

He inhaled deeply, “I just can’t right now.”

“Ok.” She shoved her hands into her sweatshirt, “Where are we going?”

“I appreciate what you’re doing Nat. But can’t I just be alone?”

“Nope.” Her p popped loudly, “You don’t have a tracker on you and you’re much harder to find when you’re out as Peter Parker. Plus, I want to know that you’re okay.”

Peter started slowly down the street, “if I’m so hard to find then how did you do it so easily?” She looked back at the convenience store. He scoffed, “Am I that predictable?”

“I’m a master spy. Don’t flatter yourself.”

~.~

“Are you ready to do this now?”

Peter jogged in place a little, “as ready as I’ll ever be. I’m pretty sure it’s all gone though.”

“You don’t know that.” Wanda said as she came up to him

“Just take it slow Peter.” Steve said as he lifted and moved weights around, “we’ll start with fifty.”

“I probably couldn’t lift more than a hundred.” he flexed slightly, “but I’ve retained some muscle.”

“We’ll start slow.” Steve reiterated. Peter laid down on the bench, oddly nervous, and began to chest press the bar. No problem. 50 pounds… he could do this. “Now 75.” Steve continued to spot the younger boy.

“More.” Peter said after a few reps.

“Okay…” He picked up the weights, “100.” He noticed Peter’s arms begin to shake slightly and moved to help him but backed off at the boy’s command.

“More.” His voice came out strained.

“Peter look….” He hesitated, “Let’s stop before you hurt yourself.”

“more.” the word came with more fierceness this time. Steve hesitated but eventually raised the weight to 130. “You can do this Peter. This is nothing. You’ve stopped a bus before.” The words came out muffled and quiet but Steve still picked them up.

He put his hands under the bar and took it from the boy, quickly setting it back into place. “Stop it Peter.”

Peter shot up, “what do you mean stop it?! I could’ve kept going.”

“You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“At 130?! That’s pathetic!” He was pointing and throwing his arms around. A habit he had when he was nervous

“Peter. I know this is scary. I’ve been there. Being one person and then another just the next day. I get it—” Peter snapped.

“No Steve! You don’t!” Peter yelled back, “maybe you can relate to me getting my powers but you can’t relate to this. I had that experience already! I woke up one morning with abs and strength and good eyesight and super hearing and reflexes and sticky fingers! I already transformed from a scrawny nerd to a superhero! You were never teased with the sense of responsibility and greatness only to have it stripped from you. None of you understand!” Peter whipped around with tears streaming down his face and stormed back to his room.

“What are we gonna do?”

~.~

“Hey.” Wanda held the phone to her ear as she paced around the room

“Hey Wanda, what’s up?”

“Have you talked to Peter today?”

“Yeah called him earlier, why?”

Wanda sighed a breath of relief, “What did he say?”

“Not much. Just talk about the team.” Y/n let out a small laugh, “I did most of the talking.”

Wanda grimaced and bit her thumbnail. She had no other option. “How far away are you?”

“An hour? Why? Is everything okay?”

She sighed, “Not really. In fact… I think Peter needs you right now. I feel really bad taking you from your family and I don’t want to tell you too much.”

“What happened?”

“Something happened to Spiderman…” Wanda hesitated, “Peter lost his powers.”

Ch 2

taglist: @awkwardfangirl2014 @givinggoodvibes

[cal-puddies]

let them have cake - pt 3 || calum hood || luke hemmings

smut...

Cal was sprawled across one of your couches a few months after the bathroom event. It was no longer a secret to Ash that you were still sleeping with both of them.

He’d seen the hickies and bite marks and he’d even accidentally walked into Cal’s while the three of you were hooking up. It was definitely awkward for a bit.

The three of you had a group text and at this point anyone could request a meetup with reasonable expectations the others would show. You were with Cal so much that it was almost easy.

Lately Luke had been less available and the two of you had yet to take the initiative to hook up without him. For you, it’s that you and Cal are too close now, that’d be crossing a line and there’d need to be more conversation before that happened.

-I hate to do this, but I’m getting serious with this one. So I’m not gonna be hooking up with you two anymore.

The message was clear. Luke was seeing someone.

“What?” Calum said aloud.

“I didn’t say anything.” You respond, giving him a strange look.

“No, check your phone.”

You look around and can’t find it in your immediate vicinity. Cal notices and starts to look around too.

“Luke’s seeing someone; he’s not hooking up with us anymore.” He finally explains.

You think for a second, “Well good for him! Weren’t you just saying you were tired of seeing him naked anyway?”

“But I’m not tired of seeing you naked.” Cal smirks.

“I mean maybe this is for the best, I don’t think a threesome situation is meant for a long haul, it’s tiring… Luke was rarely ever the one to get me off, if he was, he was mean about it or forced multiple orgasms, which sounds fun in theory… not really great… I’ve sucked more dick hooking up with you two than I have in my entire life… threesomes are a lot of work.”

Cal sits up so he can participate in the conversation “I hear everything your saying… I’m honestly just bummed because that’s it for… us.” He motions between the two of you. “I like seeing you naked. I like getting you off. I like the noises that you make. I’m sure it was exhausting to get fucked by two different guys and suck two dicks a night. But I’m not tired of you and yeah, I was getting a little tired of watching you fuck or suck Luke, but I just…” He pauses to lick his lips, “not you. I like being with you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek while you think on what he’s just said. You really liked being with Calum too, more so than anyone else you’d ever slept with. It was why you continued the threesomes, Calum was hot and skilled, and he just knew what to do for you anymore. “ I mean Calum… he’s stopping, that doesn’t mean we have to, right? If we’re having fun and enjoying ourselves…”

“I didn’t want to just assume you enjoyed me in the threesome…” he laughs.

“Oh you missed the part where I pointed out that Luke rarely ever got me off?” You smirk and cross the space between the couches. You straddle his lap. “It changes the dynamic a little. It’s you and me and no one else. But I’m ok with that I think… it’s typically just us hanging out after anyway.”

Cal gets a little hopeful here. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t developed some type of feeling for you. Sure Luke planned the first threesome but it was because Cal was sort of interested in you.

“I know babe… you’re right.” Cal said. “I think we could have more fun without him.”

“I 100% agree. And besides we pretty much already work as a FWB scenario anyway.” You shrug.

It burned coming out of your mouth. Ash had sat you down for a ‘come to Jesus’ meeting after he’d walked in on the three of you to figure out why you kept doing it, he understood why your jaw always hurt now. But once you admitted to him that you were into Cal, he got why you kept doing it.

Cal, on the other hand tried not to let his face falter at the FWB term, though he couldn’t really be mad because he hadn’t ever said he wanted more.

And so, your relationship became a friend with benefits situation.

Starting right then, because Cal pushes his hands up your thighs and around your back, pulling you further into his lap. He grins up at you and presses his lips to yours. “I think I’m really gonna like not sharing you…” he whispers.

“God knows I’m gonna enjoy it a lot more. Not having to figure out the logistics of sucking a dick while taking a dick..” you chuckle.

Cal rolls his eyes at you but he starts moving his lips against yours and then he’s slipping you tongue, and before you know, he’s got you in one of your favorite positions, on your back with him kneeling, your legs over his thighs on the couch.  Cal’s got power in his hips and he’s so damn mesmerized watching you react to each thrust. “Fuck... Calum... don’t stop.” You whimper.

“I gotchu.” He pants, holding your hips tighter.

“C’mere Cal, need’ta kiss you.” You pull at his arm and he obliges, now leaning over you, chest to chest for the first time, and you love it. You wrap your hand around the back of his neck, grabbing his hair, your other arm goes around his back and your nails dig in. Cal leaning forward had thrown your hips into a new position and he was deeper than he’d ever been.

He kisses you and you whimper. He pulls away slightly to look at you, and one of his hands smooths your hair. “You ok?”

You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes closed, “feels so good babe.” You nod, pulling at his hair.

“Yeah?” He asks, you give his hair a particularly strong pull and he moans, “yes babe, keep doing that.”

“Caluuuummm… fuck… cal… please.” You whimper.

Cal’s lips make their way from your jaw to your neck and back to your lips, “have I ever let you down?” He asks, lips pressed to yours.

“Noooooo….” you pant. “Tonight’s not a good starting point.” You joke.

“Don’t worry baby, you’re gonna cum as much as you want.” He pants. You tug on Cal’s hair as you kiss him harder.

Calum keeps it up till he knows you’re close, your body tells him everything he needs to know these days. He starts to tease you, fucking you a little shallower than before, he knew it’d drive you wild. Calum bites your lip and pulls it between his teeth, you arch your back into him and reach to hold onto anything you can get your hands on.

The tight tug on his hair caused Cal to falter, he was definitely enjoying getting his hair pulled. He sloppily kisses you and his hips to slow, and he almost pulling all the way out every time, and you lose it, “that’s it.” He coaxes. Your nails dig in at his neck and back, teeth sink into his forearm. He continues kissing and sucking your neck. “You feel so good when you cum.” He says before sucking a hickey into your neck. He keeps up his pace, and pretty soon he finishes too.

He pulls out but just collapses on you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, you wrap your arms around him and hold him. “Fuck Hood.” You whisper, kissing the top of his head. “That was better than it ever was with Luke.” You admitted.

“Yeah?” He looked up at you, and he looks wrecked in a way you’d never seen him before. You smile at him and nod, “good because that was probably my favorite as well.”

“You wanna stay tonight? We can do this again later?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yes… let’s move this to the bedroom though.” He agrees, leaning up to kiss you. Cal lifts himself off of you and he grabs his clothes, you get up and also gather your clothes and head to the bathroom to clean up.

Sleeping with cal and only cal was actually kind of a dream. He liked to cuddle and he kept kissing you even though you didn’t expect it, you still enjoyed it.

In the morning he smiles at you, and yeah, morning Cal was great, sleepy eyes and his voice is all gravelly. “You have two choices: we can go for round 2, or, I can take you to breakfast?” He asks.

“Is there a third option that gets me both?” You grin.

“Mmm, we can work that out.” Cal makes room for himself between your thighs, his chest to yours, pressing his lips to yours. “Have I told you you look good in my shirts?” He asks, slightly grinding against you. You giggle and shake your head no.

He begins to kiss you and then his lips are moving south, he pushes your shirt up with his nose as he moves down your body, lips pressing anywhere he can get them. He grabs the sides of your panties and looks up at you, “hips, please.” You oblige and he pulls them down, and off your body. Cal doesn’t wait, doesn’t even tease you, he just dives right in, pushing your thighs apart and going straight for your clit. He knew it’d drive you wild.

“Calum!” You squeak, tugging at his hair. He doesn’t acknowledge you, just works his tongue against you more. It didn’t matter, you still have hickies on your thighs from the last time he went down on you.

“You taste so fucking good. Sometimes I can’t help myself.” He says, drawing your attention back to him, he slips two fingers in and starts working them. And you’re trying to get away from him because it feels too good. Calum wraps his arm around your thigh and goes back to work. He grins as you moan. Cal easily finishes you off, knowing just what he needed to do. He presses his lips back up your body, finally your lips, “I like the way you say my name when you cum.” He kisses you deep. With his lips still pressed to yours, “let’s get showered so we can get food.”

“Need’a minute,” you pant, still coming down.

“I’ll start the shower.” He grins.

When you are sitting at brunch a little bit later you look over to him, “how are you not dating anyone? You’ve been a perfect gentleman since we started hooking up.” You mention quietly.

He thinks on it for a minute, “It’s not easy dating someone when I’m on tour for years at a time. And then there’s always that trust thing, like if you don’t have it then I’m half way across the world thinking she’s fucking someone else and she thinks she knows for sure I’m fucking someone else and it’s not worth the stress… or I haven’t found someone worth the stress.” He explains. In his mind thinking that you’d be worth it, he thought.

“Makes sense.” You nod. Calum’s phone buzzes and you just sit and admire him while he checks it. “Anything important?” You ask.

“Uhhhmm, Ash says there’s a party tonight. You wanna go?” He asks, turning his eyes up to you.

“I’m going with Ash, he asked me earlier this week.” You explain. “I’m sure you could go with us.”

“Nah, you and Ash haven’t spent time together in a while, I’ll just see ya there…” He shrugs.

“Well he’s probably gonna go all dad on me again and talk to me about how weird the threesome situation is.” You laugh.

“Tell him it’s over. Get yourself out of that.”

“But then he’ll find out about th FWB thing and he’ll definitely have feelings about that too.” You sigh and take a big sip of the mixed drink you’d ordered for breakfast.

Cal sighs and shakes his head. “I guess I don’t see why he cares.”

“I don’t think he would except y’all are his friends.” You give him a half smile.

“You have a point. What are you doing till you go see Ash?”

“Umm, I don’t have any plans. Did you wanna hang out for a while?” You ask.

“Absolutely.” He grins.

You and Ashton end up showing up to the party way later than expected, but time had got away from you. You spotted Cal almost immediately and he was just talking with some girls in the kitchen, surrounded by a couple of their other friends. You had to remind yourself you couldn’t be jealous.

You spot some other friends and go chat them up for a while. You were always aware of where Cal was and who was touching him, up until an old friend approached you. You’d always kind of crushed on him and for the first time you were both single, so he was flirty, touching you, and pulling you in.

Cal’s lost sight of you, though you still knew where he was. He spots you from across the room, pressed against a guy. You saw him approach Ashton out of the corner of your eye, with a look on his face you didn’t quite recognize but definitely got the gist of.

“Who’s he?” He asked Ash, looking in your direction.

“I barely met him, but from what I’ve gathered, they have history.” Ash takes a second to fully look at Calum, “Are you jealous?” Ash is almost incredulous. But cal doesn’t answer. “I thought you all were done with the whole threesome thing.” He pulls Cal’s arm so they are out of the center of the room.

Your eyes follow them out of the room. And the guy you’re with notices your attention drawn from him. “Do you need to go check on that?” He asks.

“Yeah, I think so.” You pull away, “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve been preoccupied with him all night.” He lets you go and shakes his head.

“Yeah cool, I’ll catch up with you another time.” You say, leaving him behind.

You find Cal and Ash out back and even just approaching the situation you could tell it wasn’t a good situation. Things looked tense and you almost wanted to turn around.

Ashton runs a hand over his face and he spots you. He waves you out to where him and Cal are and Cal looks frustrated.

“What’s going on?” You ask, joining them and crossing your arms.

“You guys clearly have shit to talk about. I warned you both about this.” Ashton says, clearly frustrated, he points between the both of you. “Work it out.”

“What’s going on Cal?” You ask.

“Who’s the guy you’ve been hanging over all night?” Cal immediately retorts.

You sigh and turn away for a second before turning back. “You don’t get to do this Cal.” You’re a bit distressed. “We agreed on friends with benefits, less than 48 hours ago! What the hell?”

“No… you agreed to that. You never gave me a say. I wanted more, I want more… I have since we were hooking up with Luke… one day he was touching you and i hated it. I knew then.”

“Ohh, you’ve gotta be fuckin kidding me.” You whisper. “Why wouldn’t you say something?!” You ask him. “Instead of just agreeing?”

“I honestly didn’t think you’d turn around and find someone else to go home with the next day… like we just hooked up... this afternoon. I didn’t expect it.”

“I’m FLIRTING Calum, because I can, because you didn’t say anything until now. You don’t get to be mad.” You clap to accentuate your point.

“Well I am mad… and fuckin jealous, ok?! Because I don’t want anyone else to be with you the way I am. I want you, I want us... and that’s it.” He got quieter and moved in closer to you, pulling you against him by your hips, a move you’d love any other time.

“Calum…” You sigh. “Fuck… now? Not 5 months ago when we started hooking up? I didn’t keep doing it because I really love getting railed by two guys every time I wanna get laid…” you pull away. “I can’t… I can’t do this right now.”

so... what did we think?

pt 2  ||  pt 4

[bangchanzz]

4 AM

Choi Minho X Reader smut/angst

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: smut, slight daddy kink, angst

Summary: Minho comes home late from practice--again--on your special date night, feeling like he’s let you down once again. So you do what you need to do to convince him that you’re anything but upset with him.

It was the slamming of your front door that roused you from the sleep you were never supposed to have. You lifted your bleary head from the pillow to glance at the clock on your bedside table through eyes still burdened by sleep.

It read 3:36 AM.

A full six hours past the time your boyfriend said he’d be home tonight. And a full three and a half hours passed the time you had fallen asleep trying to wait up for him.

The two of you had decided that tonight—or, last night, as it now was--would be date night, or at least as close to a date night one could get when dating someone with Minho’s schedule.

Your relationship had been noticeably lacking as of late, what with Minho’s long hours in the studio while he prepared for SHINee’s upcoming comeback, so, the two of you had planned an evening to enjoy each other’s company in ways you hadn’t in a very, very long time. Or at least tried to, anyway.

You waited and listened to heavy footsteps make their way across your apartment, becoming softer as they neared your bedroom door.

A dim triangle of light shone through the room as your boyfriend slowly slipped through the doorway and made his way to your side of the bed.

He watched as your eyes, illuminated by the light from the rest of the apartment, tracked his movements across the room with an unreadable expression shining from within.

Silence hung heavy in the air between the two of you, neither willing to break it and say what needed to be said.

Minho sat down on the mattress, the weight of it all suddenly too much to bear.

“How was practice?” you murmured softly into the charged air.

You watched as Minho’s shoulders fell and a breath slipped passed his lips, his arms coming up to brace on his knees and his head falling into his hands.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” he choked out, ignoring your question. “I fucked everything up, didn’t I?”

You weren’t mad. Not in the slightest. Because the awful, horrible truth was that you never expected him to follow through with tonight anyway. You knew he’d be late, and he’d come home and apologize profusely and promise to make it up to you before falling asleep without even changing his clothes.

But you had to admit that tonight felt different than your expectations.

From the way his shoulders shook ever so slightly and the tight lines of his body, you wondered if maybe he’d needed tonight just as much—if not more—than you did.

“I’m not mad,” you told him.

He turned his head to look at you, the light spilling through the door highlighting the twin streaks of tears streaming down his anguished face. “How can you not be mad?” he demanded, his voice breaking. “I always do this! I always make promises I can’t keep and I let you down. How can you not hate me for it?” He was almost yelling now, more at himself than you; as if the haunting feelings he had quietly stashed away were breaking free, each and every demon escaping to torment him further in the hushed darkness.

“Did you know,” he started warily, “that every night when I come home after practice, I hold my breath as the elevator opens because I’m terrified that one of these days I’m going to find my stuff out in the hallway, and I keep holding my breath as I walk up to our door because I’m half expecting to find a note telling me you don’t want me anymore, and I don’t breathe again until the door actually opens because I’m convinced that you’ll eventually change the locks to keep me out.”

He took a steadying breath, and when he spoke again his voice was much quieter. “I feel like my whole life has been about finding you, and now that I have you it’s about waiting for you to realize that I’m not good enough for you.”

Guilt crashed down around you like a tidal wave. A horrible ringing filled your ears as you beheld his form, anguish written across every line of his body.

It felt like a sink hole had opened up inside of your chest as Minho laid everything bare before you. You had no idea he had felt this way or that he had been shouldering this burden all on his own.  

With tears in your eyes, you sat up and put your arms around his shaking form, rubbing small circles into his back.

For a moment, he leaned into your warmth, relishing in the way you seemed to fill the growing cracks in his heart, even for just a moment. And then he was on the floor, pressing his forehead to the hardwoods, begging you to forgive him.

Tears flowed freely down your cheeks as you remained momentarily stunned at the sight before you, your heart shattering for the boy in front of you.

“Minho, get up,” you managed through numb lips.

He remained where he was, a shake of his head the only answer.

You swung your legs out of bed, the cold floor a stark contrast from your warm comforter but you hardly noticed as you knelt in front on him.

“Minho,” you said softly. “Look at me.”

Placing a hand beneath his chin, you forced him to look at you, witnessing the heartache plastered all over his face.

“Stand up,” you told him, attempting to gently guide him from the floor. But as you stood, he stopped halfway and his strong arms came around your middle as he pressed his face into your stomach and wept.

“Please don’t break up with me,” he sobbed, the sound muffled by the oversized shirt—his shirt—you were wearing. “Please,” he begged again. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me and if I lost you I don’t know what I’d… what I’d…”

“Baby, stop,” you said, your voice harsher than you’d meant. “I am not going anywhere, ok?” You began running a hand through his hair as he continued to cry into your stomach. “I’m not mad,” you told him. “This is your job, your dream, and I could never be mad at you for pursuing it, so please, stop feeling like you have to choose between me and your career. I’m here for as long as you want me.”

He looked up at you then, eyes still singing of unbearable sadness with a hint of disbelief, like his anxiety was consuming him whole.

You smiled, the only thing you could offer him in this moment, words failing to be enough to balm his pain.

He let out a final shaky breath and buried his face into your stomach once again, not crying, but letting the nearness of you soothe the intrusive thoughts that racked his body.

And you let him, not knowing the proper words to make him understand that everything you’d said to him tonight had been the bare truth, so you ran your hands gently through his hair and wiped away your own tears before he could notice, not wanting to burden him with your own emotions.

“I’m in love with you,” he mumbled into your shirt.

You didn’t let the words shock you, despite this being the first time you’d heard them. Because truthfully, you already knew. You didn’t need his verbal clarification to reaffirm what his actions had been telling you for months.

Sure, the two of you didn’t see a lot of each other, but somehow you found a way to be a constant presence in each other’s lives. Sometimes Minho would come home even later than usual, staying out half the night because he had driven all over the city to pick up gifts so he could surprise you when you woke up in the morning to find him already gone to practice. Sometimes it was flowers, or candy, sometimes even jewelry, or just a stupid love note that never failed to make your heart flutter.

Hell, the way he had gotten onto his knees for you tonight was proof enough that he loved you.

“I know,” you told him honestly. “And I’m in love with you, too.”

He looked up at you with eyes as wide as saucers and rested his chin on your stomach, mouth slightly parted in awe until it spread into a wide grin.

“And because I love you,” you continued, “I’m going to make you something to eat while you shower, okay?”

He scrambled to his feet, nodding eagerly, and took your face between his hands and kissed you, the simple action bursting with love.

“I love you,” he said again.

You smiled. “I love you, too. Now go shower. You smell.”

He didn’t let your teasing bother him as he watched you leave the room, his smile never wavering until long after you’d disappeared down the hallway.

“I love you!” he called, shucking his shirt off and flinging it in the general vicinity of the laundry basket.

“Minho!” you called back, a hint of playful irritation lacing your voice.

“Sorry baby! I just love saying it!”

Your echoing groan was the only response he got as he removed the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower.

 You were just spooning some fried rice into a bowl when you felt two strong arms snake around your waist.

A moment later someone was planting rough kisses from your shoulder all the way up your neck, thoroughly distracting you from what you were doing and causing you to spill rice all over the counter.

“Minho!” you complained, weaseling your way out of his grasp. “There’s your dinner,” you said, pointing to the bowl as you grabbed a paper towel to clean up the mess. “Sit. Eat.”

You watched as he grabbed his food and sat at the tiny oak kitchen table, wolfing down two servings of fried rice in record time.

As you cleaned you tried not to dwell too much on the fact that he was wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, his damp silver hair beginning to frizz up as it dried. You also tried to ignore the faint throbbing between your legs, your body betraying your solid resolution to let him rest with the screaming desire of wanting him.

It had been so long since the two of you had done something this… domestic. And maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t been around him as much in recent weeks, or perhaps it was the lingering feeling of normalcy that hung in the room this evening that almost made you forget you were dating an idol, but you realized that you craved this. And you craved him. And while your mind might have wanted to let him rest, your body did not.

You sat down across from him, crossing your legs under the table and pressing your thighs together, desperate for any kind of relief.

“So how is the comeback coming along?” you asked, hoping to distract yourself from all thoughts of jumping him right here at the table.

“It’s… coming,” he said hesitantly, finishing his rice and leaning back, displaying his beautiful chest for all the world to see.

“Uh oh,” your murmured, head leaning to rest against your hand. “Tell me.”

He sighed, scrubbing harshly at his face. “We’re going for a more upbeat sound this time, which means that the choreo is brutal, and to sing while doing it is damn near impossible. We’re all having a hard time with it so our choreographer isn’t letting us leave the studio until we’re practically dead on our feet. Not to mention I have to start working out again because of this upcoming drama…

“Trust me, you don’t need stress about working out,” you muttered.

“And somewhere in there I need to appear on some variety shows to promote the new comeback, and the company wants me to try producing some of the songs for our comeback after this one… I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now and trying to juggle everything is exhausting, you know?”

It hurt you to see him like this... vulnerable. Usually he was all smiles and laughs, and you knew he hid his true feelings very well, but to see him this open with you made your heart feel heavy.

“Hey,” you said, getting up and moving around to his side of the table. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it done. I know you will,” you told him reassuringly, settling yourself into his lap.

There was nothing sexual about it–despite the now incessant throbbing between your legs—as you rested your head on his shoulder and he rested his head against yours.

“Will you be here when I come home every night?” he asked quietly.

“Of course,” you responded, voice as forceful as ever. “I already told you earlier, Minho, I’m here for as long as you want me.”

You could almost hear his smile.

Silence hung heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry I’m not here enough,” Minho said finally.

“It’s not your fault,” you told him. “It’s no one’s fault. That’s just how things are.”

“Yeah, but if I’m not here, who’s going to kill all the bugs? Or make the 50-mile trek to take the garbage out? Or lift those heavy boxes from the top of the closet?”

“Hey! That was one cockroach one time! I’m a big girl! I can handle it!”

“I know you can,” he said softy, his demeanor suddenly demure. “But that doesn’t mean you should have to. You gave up your life in Busan to come here and live with me, and I’m not even around for it.”

Oh.

So that’s what this was about.

The two of you were no strangers to this discussion, with you always reassuring him that you wanted it just as much as he did.

But you knew that it was the stress of everything that had brought old worries back to haunt him and so you twisted around in his lap to look at him, not having the energy to argue with him right now and settling on distracting him. “What can I do?” you asked, eyes desperate. “What can I do to take some of the stress off?”

He leaned forward so his forehead was pressing against yours, suddenly appearing very, very exhausted, the nearness making the throbbing in your core even more prominent nonetheless. “Nothing,” he murmured. “Just be you.”

Well, that answer wasn’t good enough for you. And you had an idea that would benefit both of you.

Keenly aware of the fact that you were wearing nothing more than his shirt and your underwear, you shifted in his lap again so you were straddling him, pressing your clothed core against his semi-hard cock, and began planting sensual kisses down the column of his throat.

“Baby,” he moaned, his large hands coming to grab your waist and hold you in place. “I woke you up at 3:30 in the morning. You don’t have to do this-“

“Choi Minho!” you snapped, gripping his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Yes I do, because I have been so fucking horny all night and I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home so I didn’t get myself off like usual, which means that right now I am one dripping wet ball of sexual frustration and if I don’t orgasm soon I might actually implode. And don’t even try to act all chivalrous and say you don’t want to for my sake because your naughty sexts from this afternoon told me just how horny you’ve been during our little dry spell. So take off your damn pants so I can suck your dick!”

With each clipped word out of your mouth his eyes appeared to get wider and wider, but he seemed to get the message as the second you were done speaking he was picking you up—still straddling him—and carrying you to the bedroom.

It was amazing that the two of you actually made it to the bedroom, as your lips were locked together from the first step.

The next thing you know you’re being thrown onto the bed, Minho’s form appearing above you seconds later.

Rough hands pushed your shirt up over your breasts and then his mouth was toying with the soft flesh of your nipples.

His mouth began to migrate south but you stopped him, reading his intentions loud and clear.

“No,” you said, slightly out of breath. “Tonight, let me take care of you.”

This didn’t seem to sit very well with Minho, not that that was surprising to you considering that he was naturally very dominant in the bedroom.

“Just for tonight. Please?” you begged, eyes going wide and your bottom lip ever so slightly jutting out to make you appear very cute and innocent—the very look you knew drove him crazy.

He hesitated.

“You can still tell me what to do!” you offered. “I just want you to relax.”

Your offer apparently seemed good enough to him as he grabbed you around the waist and rolled so you were on top.

You smiled at him, and then got to work.

You started at his jaw before working your mouth down his neck, stopping there to leave several large hickeys. You didn’t bother asking permission because you knew he loved to strut around with them, as if to tell the whole world that you had done this to him. And you loved that about him, because they were proof to everyone else that he was completely and utterly yours.

You moved from his neck down his chest, pausing ever so briefly to run your tongue over one of his nipples with an innocent little glance up at his face.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “How do you look so good worshiping me, hmm?”

Your mouth too busy to respond, you glanced up at him with a spark in your eyes before throwing yourself back into what you were doing.

You worked your way down his well-muscled torso until you got to the waistband of his sweats, oh so carefully folding over the edge to reveal that he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“No underwear?” you asked sweetly, sitting up to grind your core against his length. “It’s almost as if you were anticipating this.”

“Who said you could talk to me like-” his sentence was interrupted with a groan as you knew exactly where to grind to shut him up.

“I’m sorry, daddy. I just got carried away,” you said, giving him a knowing grin before returning to your position on your stomach, just in case you riled him up too much and he decided he wanted to be in control again.

With your face hovering over his crotch, you slowly pulled his sweats down to his knees letting him do the rest as his erection sprang free.

“So big,” you marveled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and running a finger up his length.

“Fuck, Y/N” he groaned, bucking his hips up.

“Are you going to face fuck me, daddy?” you asked innocently, taking your finger and running it around the crown of his cock, collecting the precum on your finger tip and popping it into your mouth absentmindedly.

“You should know better than to ask stupid questions you already know the answer to, baby girl.”

You hummed in response, licking a stripe up the side of his cock. You gathered your hair into a quick ponytail, which he grabbed a hold of without a second thought.

You started with a few kitten licks to his head, lapping up the precum that leaked from the tip.

His hand pushed slightly against the back of your hair, telling you that he’d had enough of your teasing.

You didn’t let yourself think too much about what you were doing as you took him in your mouth, his hand in your hair doing most of the work bobbing your head against him.

You hollowed out your cheeks like you knew he liked, trying to think about anything but the oncoming gagging feeling as he hit the back of your throat.

Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock, pumping in time with your mouth.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look in my shirt with those pouty little lips desperately wrapped around my cock?” he asked, knowing full well you wouldn’t respond.

“How have I gone so long without this?” he wondered aloud, slightly bucking his hips up under your touch. “Can you take more?” he asked.

You nodded slightly, a quiet hum around his cock your only response.

“Good girl,” he praised, before pushing more of himself into your throat.

Tears swam in your eyes but you persisted, not willing to let yourself let him down.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well,” he groaned, his other hand fisting in the sheets. “Fuck, I’m close,” he moaned, pulling your head back so he popped out of your mouth.

“You did so well,” he said lovingly, sitting up slightly to brush the tears from your eyes. “Come here,” he commanded, pulling your face up to meet his.

His lips met yours in a kiss full of desire and love.

Hands brushed the band of your underwear, the only warning before he ripped through the lace with ease, tearing them from your body.

You gave a little noise of complaint.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he promised against your mouth. “But look how wet my baby girl is for me,” he commented, running a finger down your entrance. “You must have been in such agony all night, waiting for me to come home and take care of you.”

You whimpered slightly against his mouth in agreement, grinding your core against his hand.

“How do you want it baby girl?” he asked, his finger rubbing lazy circles over your sensitive clit.

“You said I could be on top,” you pouted.

“That’s right, I did say that,” he acknowledged, removing his finger from between your legs and bringing it up you your lips where you put the whole thing in your mouth and sucked. “But why should daddy let you be on top?”

You swallowed and released his finger, a pout already formed on your lips. “Because I want to take care of you, daddy. You always take such good care of me and so I want to return the favor.”

A slow smile spread across his lips, eyes hungry. “Alright,” he conceded lying back against the pillows.

His hands toyed with the hem of your shirt. “As much as I love this on you, it needs to go,” he said, before pulling the material over your head and discarding it in the room.

“Can I make a request though?” he asked. “Turn around so I can see your ass bounce as your ride my cock.”            Those words alone drove you insane, and without realizing what you were doing you were turning around and positioning his tip at your entrance. You slowly eased yourself onto his waiting cock, a gasp escaping your lips and a groan escaping his.

He gave you a moment to adjust to his size before bucking his hips up against yours, burying himself deeper inside you.

The first thrust had you seeing stars; the pleasure coursing through every nerve in your body had you instinctually throwing your head back and arching your spine, desperate to feel him even deeper in your body.

Large hands trailed over your body, lingering on your ass. Your skin tingled at the contact, his touch on your back, waist, and hips leaving sparks along your skin.

There was something about the way he filled you up perfectly that had every stroke feeling better than the last, giving you a high of unimaginable ecstasy.

You braced your hands against his strong thighs, lifting your hips so he almost came out of you before sitting back down to meet his cock.

But your legs grew tired of supporting you, your muscles unaccustomed to being the one on top.

“Daddy,” you whined, grinding a little against his hips.

“What? Do you want help?” he asked, sitting up. “Don’t worry baby girl, daddy knows how you like it.”

He pushed you up off his cock and had you turn around and straddle him again, legs wrapped around his waist and arms braced against his shoulders.

He sat up so the two of you were face to face, his hands roughly gripping your hips. He let you adjust yourself so he was once again positioned at your entrance, and gently pushed you down onto his cock.

You mewled in response, looking up at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly parted.

“You have no idea what you do to me when you look at me like that,” he growled, his mouth capturing yours in a rough kiss as his lifted your hips up and then snapped them down to meet his own thrust.

You threw your head back in ecstasy, pleasure coursing through every inch of your body as he repeated his motions, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot every time without fail.

It was truly amazing how quickly he could turn you into a moaning, mewling mess.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Oh, yes,” you moaned, arching your back so you could rub your bare chest against his. “No one else can make me feel as good as you do, daddy.”

“That’s right, princess. Only I can fuck you this good.”

His hands trailed up your sides until they met with your breasts, thumbs running over the sensitive buds.

Deciding he wanted more, he picked you up in his powerful arms until his mouth met your nipple, his teeth grazing over the soft flesh.

You moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and fisting your hands in his hair, your hips still grinding against him as his own mercilessly thrust into your heat.

Your gut began to tighten, the stimulation almost too much for you to bear.

“Daddy, I’m—I’m gonna…”

“Cum for me, baby,” he commanded, his mouth trailing up to kiss the spot underneath your ear. “Cum around daddy’s cock.”

You were more than happy to oblige as your orgasm crashed into you, your toes curling, body trembling, and head thrown back in a cry.

“You’re so good,” Minho praised as you rode out your high on his cock, your walls clenching so tightly around him it was enough to make him find his own release.

You moaned as his cock twitched inside you and he spilled his warm fluid inside of you.

You both milked your orgasms for everything they were worth, savoring in the long overdue release.

“I love you,” you whispered into his hair, your hips giving a final buck.

“I love you, too,” he whispered into your shoulder, choosing to remain like that for a while as the night passed by around you.