#excuse me while I try to drabble my way out of a slump

[boba-beom]

₊ ⊹꩜ backrow theatre | CHOI BEOMGYU, KANG TAEHYUN

⟢ sub!beomgyu x switch fem!reader x dom!taehyun

⟢ drabble; smut, little fluff

⟢ going on a date with beomgyu in an empty cinema was a plan from the beginning. what you didn't know was that you were being monitored the whole time, and turns out it wasn't just you and beomgyu wanting to have some fun.

⟢ wc: 1.1k (drabbles never drabble)

⟢ a/n: beomgyu and taehyun. the back row of an empty movie theater. smut. @junniieesbby's req for my event! MDNI. I decided I'll slowly release these drabble reqs from my event during the week days too, I feel like it'd be a lot to post during the weekend :') I received more reqs than I thought! but I am extremely thankful nonetheless! feedback would be appreciated as always ᡣ𐭩

warnings under cut

⟢ petnames;(baby, pretty girl, good boy, etc), sir kink, threesome duh, oral (m. receiving), degradation;(slut), deep throating, exhibitionism, dirty talk, somewhat voyeurism, there's some mxm moments (if you don't like that don't send hate, just don't read), unprotected sex, hair pulling, soft choking, pervy taehyun, spit kink and cum eating. lmk if I missed anything!

giving beomgyu head in the back row of an empty cinema was not part of the agenda your a first date, but you weren't mad about it. and neither was the man moaning like nobody's business. you two were the only ones in the cinema room after all.

"ugh, shit, baby. your mouth feels so good." beomgyu sighs, placing both of his hands on either side of your temples, resisting how fast you're sliding his dick down your throat.

the dim lights only made the view of you on your knees even hotter for your date. your fingers fondle his balls while you try and take him in deeper every now and then, and he loved it indicated by his throaty moan.

in the cinema, each room is under surveillance by a member of staff; monitoring any forbidden activities such as filming the screen or in this instance, someone receiving head at the back row of an empty cinema.

the movie wasn't much of an appeal to most but it was also the first day of the viewing—at the latest time too. the member of staff huffs, adjusting his half-hard dick in under his slacks while watching the way your head bobs up and down between the legs of a man slumping in his seat. but he better do his job.

you kneel back on your legs, fisting beomgyu's cock with both hands painfully slow, twisting your fists as he leans forward to kiss you, moaning into your mouth.

light shines on the both of you, along with a stern voice interrupting.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doing? I'm going to have to kick you guys out-"

"please don't kick us out," you squint to read his name tag, "taehyun."

blinded by his torch shining on the lewd scene of your slick hands over beomgyu's pulsing dick, you manage to see the corner of his lips curve upward.

"why shouldn't I? this is unacceptable and it's public indecency." he retorts, but his growing erection feels otherwise.

"if I let you fuck me will you let us finish and not tell anyone, sir?" you look up at him with your doe eyes, almost whining from the title rolling off of your tongue.

your boldness was good enough to keep you going, beomgyu's cock back in the warmth of your mouth and taehyun's pounding you from behind, also kneeling. the grip of two pairs of hands on your body—your head and your hips—essentially had your mind reeling, another thing added that wasn't on your agenda.

taehyun's thrusts didn't falter, fucking you hard enough until your legs are shaking, him having to hold you up.

"fucking cum, slut." taehyun grunts between clenched teeth.

your moans over beomgyu's cock doesn't help him from hold back his noises, whining your name as he feels his length throbbing against your tongue. that is, until taehyun pushes your head down, taking more of beomgyu until his tip was lodged down your throat and gargling, then pulling at your hair, stopping just when beomgyu's tip remains in your mouth.

the male above you starts grabbing on the arms of the seat, throwing his head back and mouth agape while you're moaning around his tip until he unloads his thick cum in your mouth.

"don't swallow yet, pretty girl." taehyun pants behind you, snapping his hips as he pistons into your throbbing cunt. "c'mere."

you shuffle on your knees, knowing they're bruised but the pain is nonexistent in a situation like this. taehyun sits beside beomgyu and fists his shaft, waiting for you to position yourself between his legs.

you open your mouth slowly, careful not to spill beomgyu's cum from the corners of your lips. after a couple more strokes, taehyun hunches forward, letting out his strangled groans after each pump of his white ribbons spurting out his tip and into your full mouth.

"good girl." he sighs, chest heaving while he caresses your cheek once you close your mouth. but you don't swallow. letting the bitter cum of both men mix over and under your tongue.

taehyun turns to beomgyu, a thought brewing in his head and hoping you'd be quick to catch on. he grabs your date's jaw, delicately squeezing his cheeks.

"open." is all he says, and beomgyu was quick to oblige, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out flat against his bottom lip.

taehyun looks at you, smirking and nodding his head in beomgyu's direction, a subtle smile playing on your lips. you genuinely wouldn't have taken him to be such a freak but he's so hot, and the lust in his eyes while he waits for you to move was enough to realise he was just as freaky.

getting up on your feet, your knees almost buckle as you move to hover over beomgyu, crawling over his lap as your slicked cunt makes contact with his half-hard dick. you look at him below you, whiny and bringing his hands over a loose hold around taehyun's wrist.

leaning over beomgyu's face, you part your lips, slowly letting the mixed substances fall out your mouth and into the male's beneath you. when you felt nothing left in your mouth you press your lips against beomgyu's roughly kissing him and still tasting the cum on against your tongues.

another higher pitched whine rumbles in his chest when he felt the liquids sliding down his tongue and to the back of his throat.

"that's my good boy. now swallow, baby." you coo in his ear and you feel beomgyu's cock jump beneath you, taehyun, too, found that extremely hot.

you didn't take beomgyu to be someone who would eat his own cum, let alone a stranger's, but you'd by lying to yourself if you said that it didn't turn you on.

when beomgyu swallowed the last drop of cum he opened his mouth to show you, tongue sticking out again and taehyun's hand slides down to beomgyu's throat, applying light pressure as he raises off of the seat and spits into the other male's mouth, then nods. beomgyu swallows that too, no hesitancy in sight.

"god, you take anything we give you, don't you?" taehyun chuckles, thumb rubbing beomgyu's bobbing adam's apple.

the movie was coming to an end, the credits just about to appear and the lights gradually brightens up the room while the three of you sort out your clothes and wiping down the collective mess on the seats.

you grab your jacket from your seat, looking around to find taehyun making his way to the exit of the theatre room.

"taehyun!" you call after him, also making your way down the steps to catch up to him.

he turns around, brows cocking up and his hands in his pockets.

"I was wondering," you start sweetly, "could I get your number and we can fuck again?"

he chuckles at your straightforwardness, taking his phone out for you to put your number in his contacts.

"pretty thing, I'd love to. just, not in the theatre again. you're lucky it was just me who saw." he responds firmly, but he has that stupid smirk crawling on his lips again. "and beomgyu?"

you give him a sweet smile.

"you two are hot so.." you trail, "this arrangement good?"

taehyun looks up to where beomgyu was, walking up behind you with his flushed cheeks.

"yeah, this could work." he nods, retrieving his phone from you. "see you around miss."

"see you around, sir."

© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

taglist:  @bb-eilish @ericyjun @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @soobinsman @ahnneyong @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @itaehynz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @yunkiwii @prodsh00ky @https-yeonjun @lovejoshua @aprilisque @ja4hyvn @smutnoullitheorem @seolis-world @jak-ey @my313 (send an ask to be part of the taglist! here's the spreadsheet for reference!)

#smiles' slumber party #mdni #smiles hard hours #gosh I'm so nervous for this but :') #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #taehyun smut #taehyun hard hours #taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun imagines #taehyun scenarios #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt imagines #txt scenarios #sub!beomgyu #switch!reader #dom!taehyun #smiles writes ౨ৎ

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Hurtful Word

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 650 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: Astarion being a jackass for a hot second, fluff, hurt/comfort

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

You limped over to Karlach, your whole being feeling drained. Healing everyone enough to get back to camp was taking its toll on your weary body. You gently pulled the arrow out of her calf before covering the wound with your hands. A soft blue glow emanated from them, closing her wound up enough until it was superficial. You slumped over, all power being drained from you until you could rest. You sighed heavily, running your hand over your sweaty brow. 

“Can you heal Astarion?” Karlach said as she tested her weight on her leg. She pointed to him, he was across the way with a gash in his shoulder. He held himself, glove soaked in blood. You put your weary hands over the cut but your magic waned. Utterly exhausted, your body couldn’t muster it. You sighed.

“Fucking useless…” he muttered under his breath but you still caught it. Your body froze, as did his. You looked at him, tears starting to form in your eyes. 

“Y/N… wait…” he said as you got up and started to walk towards the sigil back to camp. He tried to follow you but his shoulder was barely hanging on, he needed serious healing. You threw an angry yet hurt expression his way, stopping right before the sigil. “I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry… I’m just… utterly defeated. That’s no excuse my darling. I apologize.” he said sincerely reaching for your hand softly. 

You took his hand, “I accept your apology.” you sniffled. “Take that tone with me again though and I swear to the gods…” you trailed off, Astarion chuckled as he caressed your face. 

You lead him through the sigil, he swung your hands back and forth playfully. When you made it to your tent you took his armor off as gently as you could before having him drink a potion of superior healing. You cursed yourself for forgetting it and not bringing it to battle. You watched as Astarion’s wound closed slowly, the muscles and skin regrowing leaving behind nothing but a small scratch. You passed him a damp cloth to wipe the excess blood away while you riffled through your belongings for a clean shirt. You passed him a black night shirt you had for him. He slipped it on, both of you working in a comfortable silence. When you were both clean and finished you leaned against the pole holding your tent up, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. You felt Astarion move next to you, he kissed your shoulder before sighing. 

‘What is it Star?” you asked, eyes fluttering open to look at him. 

“I’m so sorry for what I said earlier.” he said. 

You saw the wrinkles of guilt on his forehead and the disappointed look in his eyes. “Honey, it's done with. You apologized, I forgave you. That's the end of it.” You kissed his cheek, tilting his head up to look at him and see the sincerity in your words. 

He closed his eyes, bringing your hand to his cheek so you were cradling it. He kissed your palm. You knew forgiveness was something he wasn’t familiar with, quite the opposite. He felt so guilty for snapping at you, somebody who had only shown him kindness and patience. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” he asked. 

You caressed his cheek with your thumb, “Nope, no need. You are perfect darling.” you kissed the tip of his nose.

He smiled softly at your never ending sweetness. “I love you.” he said as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, kissing you once before resting there.

You giggled quietly, his white curls tickling your skin. “I love you.” you responded, kissing his forehead before resting your head on his. You drifted off to sleep after a short while, your aching body needing the reprieve.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hey all! Sorry this one is a little short, I notice I always try to make my fics 1K+ but that can make it hard for me to post fics when I lack the motivation to write that much so I will try to post more but they might not all be super long. I hope that's ok? IDK let me know what ya'll feel/think about this. Anyways - I hope you guys like this one! Thanks for all the love, I look forward to the comments they motivate me so much! XOXOXOXOXOX!!!!!!!!

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 #writing #bg3 wyll #gale of waterdeep #karlach #lae'zel #isekai #astarion bg3 #bg3 fanart #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 art #tav #baldurs gate #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #baldurs gate fanart #astarion #baldursgate #fanfic writing #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Listen

I've Got a NEED FOR MORE VAMPIRE SATAN CONTENT PLZ

I've got massive brain rot about it

Just the thought makes me lose my mind

So like if u could do me a favor and like some vampire Satan content where it starts like really sweet and then he like he smells your blood and then it kind of just gets really really heated and sexy times happen

and it turns out that MC finds that they have a biting kink

Or whatever drabbles vampire of Satan, Dia, barb, 13 and ur faves 🥺🥺 u can think of

If u wanted

I'd be internally greatful

Ur fave

🍅🐏🐱

I FINALLY HAVE FOUND INSPIRATION TO WRITE THIS DOWN HEHEHHE PREPARE YOUR HEART KITTY - Your fave is about to go feral.

Vampire! Satan is usually so calm and gentle when it comes to you - running his hands through your hair as he reads to you or hugging you from behind while you both prep dinner together.

But on the days you accidentally cut your fingers on the knife, distracted by conversation - you see his eyes darken. He tries to excuse himself out of the room but you call him back, daring to reach out to him with the injured finger.

"You're playing with fire, kitten." He says, holding onto his last string of restraint as he grabs your wrist. One last chance to escape. You're far from it - touching his lips, smearing your blood on them.

"Its been a while since you've had a taste, hasn't it-" You are thrown against the wall, caged by his arms. His eyes glow before he yanks your top to the side to expose your neck and shoulder.

You moan as he bites into you - over and over. Your skin is littered with his marks and you watch as everyone blushed at the dinner table trying to ignore them. But Satan's eyes stay locked onto you, unmoving.

"Come to my room after this..." He whispers before he leaves. You clamp your legs together in anticipation, knowing exactly how many more marks he's about to create on them.

The next morning all you can remember is a flurry of ripped clothes and overwhelming kisses as you try to get up on your unstable feet. You can feel his marks all over your body - some deeper than the others. He bites you even harder while rutting into you because the way your blood rushes when you're about to climax.

Vampire! Satan when he's at his limit and immediately needs blood to stop feeling weak. You can tell by the way he slumps on your doorstep and his desperate, apologetic eyes.

You pull him in and offer yourself. He holds you like a lifeline - biting softly but sucking on your skin for much longer. "Please stop me if you feel like I'm taking too much..."

And yet you always let him have you until you're close to passing out. Pomogranate juice helps replenishing blood faster. He makes sure to keep a box full of it in your room. Once he feels better, he takes sips of it and pours it into your mouth.

Once you are back to your senses he holds you close whispering apologies and gratitude at the same time, your warmth and gentle hands reassuring him every time it happens.

He'll pamper you and keep you in his sights all throughout the whole week, extra careful of your health and food intake. He gets so territorial even Mammon has to back off.

#obey me Satan #obey me smut #obey me satan smut #obey me satan x reader

[starpirateee]

For the drabble thing, Steph/Lex maybe? 👀

Oooo!! Okay this is something I'm gonna be happy to get into 👀 you guys really know how to make things interesting, huh?

Lex's phone buzzed more times in the span of a few minutes than it ever normally would. Sometimes that happened while she was at work, she was never allowed to check her phone while on the job, so she tended to miss out a lot. But there was never this many messages in such a short space of time.

She opened her phone, glancing around the shop to make sure Frank couldn't see her.

[ s.lauter.x ]

hey lex

idk if you remember, but it's steph

... we were in shop class together in high school

Lauter...

Steph!

Lex smiled a little at the memory of her. She was a junior when Steph was a freshman. In that half a year before she dropped out for good, the two of them had been sat next to each other, and while they weren't the best of friends, they had gotten along fine.

They hadn't actually spoken since Lex dropped out, so it was strange seeing her name on the top of her phone.

Lex hesitated, then opened the conversation.

[ lexxxx_f ]

uh... yeah! steph, right?

[ s.lauter.x ]

yeah! hey :)

sorry about this, i know we haven't spoken in, like, forever, but i wanted to tell you about your sister.... she got into an accident in class today

[ lexxxx_f ]

what happened????

"Alexandra!"

Lex looked up quickly, leaving Steph typing. Frank had appeared out of nowhere, arms folded in discontent. There was nobody in the shop, hadn't been for a while now. It's not like he needed her for anything...

She glanced down for a brief moment. Steph was still typing. She frowned. God, this must be huge... she hoped Hannah was okay...

"What did I tell you?"

"It's about my sister," Lex tried to excuse. Normally he tended to let that slide, she was the best option when Hannah was in trouble, and it wasn't so often that it happened, so she could usually get away with it, too.

He raised an eyebrow. "What about her?"

"She's in hospital. Would you let me go, I've gotta go get her..."

Frank sighed, glancing at the depressingly empty shop floor. If they weren't busy now, then there was a really good chance that they weren't going to be busy until close. While Lex wasn't the most hardworking girl he could've picked, but if he had to give her credit for anything, it was that she never really asked for much.

That was the one side of it. She didn't ask for much, and when she did, it was usually something he had to note was worth her being excused. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I'm getting an answer for that right now..."

Another glance down at her phone.

[ s.lauter.x ]

she had some kinda blackout in shop while she was on the bandsaw

"She had an accident in shop class." Lex's voice was laced in the horror she felt, and she'd heard the way it broke too. This wasn't good. this really wasn't good. "Shit- Frank, I gotta go-"

[ lexxxx_f ]

steph... what happened to her?

just tell me, i gotta know...

[ s.laughter.x ]

i don't know, i didn't get across the room fast enough

there was a lot of blood though...

She didn't even leave chance for Frank to fully authorise her leaving early before she'd started running out the door. In the few moments she was still within reach, she didn't hear Frank try to protest, so she assumed that he would get used to it.

With a single track mind, she raced to her car, her heart pounding. She'd pretty much blacked out as soon as she saw the word blood from Steph. She didn't really care what had actually happened, if it was bad enough that she'd ended up in fucking hospital over it, then it was a cause for concern.

[ s.lauter.x ]

listen lex, i've gotta go before mr houston catches me, but i just thought i'd let you know

Lex slumped against the driver's seat and sighed, running a hand through her hair.

[ lexxxx_f ]

thanks steph, i appreciate it

It was hours before she got the chance to think straight again. The hospital was one whole mess after the other. Hannah was okay, that was a good start. She'd lost a finger in the blackout, but the surgeon had managed to reattach it before it became a real problem.

That was maybe the only good thing to come out of that whole space of time.

Hannah refused to acknowledge what happened, the panic had forced Ethan out of work early to see if everything was okay, and Lex had been forced into thousands of dollars worth of debt in a matter of moments. It was a catastrophpe, and Lex had way too many thoughts on the matter. She'd fallen deep into the spiral of worry that came with accidents of this kind.

God, she was going to lose her mind. Even after she contributed all her savings to this extortionate bill, she'd be 20 000 in debt for who fucking knows how long? Her shitty job wasn't going to compensate for this. And she never graduated high school- that's why it had been so long since she talked to Steph.

But she could do that, couldn't she? She could go back, there was an equivalency test she could take to get her diploma.... Maybe she could get around doing that.

To give her a bit of a break, Ethan had offered to take Hannah out for a bit, but because she'd ran out of work, there was no chance she was just going to go back.

For some reason, she couldn't get Steph off her mind. It was weird how she had to admit she hadn't thought about her in years, but now she was all she could think about.

[ lexxxx_f ]

this is weird, but we haven't seen each other in a while, have we?

[ s.lauter.x ]

it's been years

[ lexxxx_f ]

yeah...

Was this a good idea? God only knows it was the single most impulsive thing she'd ever done... On the other hand, though, she had a couple of hours spare, and Steph had been a great part of easing her worries today, even if she hadn't realised it.

Of course it was a good idea. Any chance to drive these thoughts out of her head, right?

[ lexxxx_f ]

do you wanna maybe grab coffee sometime? catch up?

Even Steph typing managed to make her nervous. She waited, staring at the three dots until they disappeared. They returned within a couple of moments, and Lex went right back to staring at them.

[ s.laughter.x ]

y'know what? that'd be great!

#stephanie lauter #lex foster #starkid #void offering #nova's tags → #i love this? ive never heard of this ship before but i love it??? #they could be so awesome together #where do you guys pull these ships from and why do they work so well? #star mail

[thegrandharveyspecter]

Trip to a Coffee Shop; a Harvey & Scott Drabble Part Thirteen: The Sick Ant

"Harvey? Tell me that's you." Scott's voice, hoarse and scratchy, called from behind the counter seconds after Harvey entered the coffee shop. Harvey couldn't see him. "I need help."

Harvey tried to squash the worry as he hurried behind the counter. Sitting on the floor, slumped against the counter, was Scott Lang looking absolutely miserable. He was coated in sweat, there were bags under his eyes, his hair was a scruffy mess and there were splats of vomit on his shirt.

"Jesus, you look like shit," Harvey said, kneeling in front of him. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"Too long. Waaay too long," Scott groaned. "I tried to make my way to my room but I collapsed halfway. I kept throwing up and my body feels numb and..."

"It's okay, kid. I'll get you to your room," Harvey said, schooling his voice into something gentle. "We'll change your shirt too. Come on."

Harvey stood and held his hand out for Scott to take, and he did so with a poor excuse of a grip. Harvey slowly helped Scott stand, though he still slouched and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before they could move.

Thankfully, Scott's room was right behind the counter so they didn't have to walk that far to his bed. It still took a little time thanks to how slow they had to move, and it was clear that Scott was struggling to not throw up again. Harvey carefully sat Scott on his bed.

"Lift your arms for me," he instructed.

The fact that Scott did so without protesting or complaining was a testament to how miserable he really was. Harvey pulled Scott's dirty shirt off and threw it in the laundry basket. He went to his small wardrobe and searched until he found a muscle shirt. Scott was able to slip it on himself.

While Scott laid on his back, Harvey went to the storage room/kitchen and got a bowl for Scott to throw up in. Before leaving, he grabbed an icepack from the freezer and a hand towel.

"You don't have to stay," Scott said when Harvey came back. "I just needed to get back to my room."

"I'm staying whether you like it or not," Harvey replied. He put the bowl and hand towel on the nightstand.

He placed the icepack on Scott's forehead and the guy practically jumped out of his skin. "COLD!"

"Obviously," Harvey said, dryly. "Keep that on your forehead. It'll help. Do you have any medicine here?"

Scott shook his head. Harvey sighed. "Alright, I'll be back in a bit with some medicine then. Stay here, don't get up from bed. There's a bowl on the nightstand for when you need to throw up."

"Thank you, Harvey..."

Harvey shrugged, lightly ruffled Scott's sweat-soaked hair. "Get some rest. I'll be back soon."

With that, Harvey's day of taking care of a Sick Scott Lang started. He bought cough syrup, Tylenol, different cans of soup, other cold medicine. Was it a bit excessive? Maybe. But it was just in case Scott got another fever. This way, he wouldn't run out quickly.

Throughout the day, Scott was in and out of consciousness. Most times when he woke up, he'd vomit, complain about the cough syrup, and pass out again. He was never awake long enough for Harvey to ask if he was willing to try some soup.

There was a time where Scott started freaking out, claiming that he was dying. He didn't want to die yet, he had to live and watch Cassie grow up because he missed time. He freaked out so bad, Harvey called Cassie and had her talk Scott to sleep. The poor child was scared for her dad. It took a while for Harvey to assure her that her dad wasn't really dying.

Around 10:30PM, Harvey tried to get Scott to eat some soup. Of course, the kid was pouting and whining, saying he'd only throw it up. Harvey agreed with that, but Scott still needed to eat. It took a whole fifteen minutes to convince Scott to have a couple spoonful's.

Somehow, Scott managed to keep it down but he passed out shortly after. When he was out again, Harvey cleaned up the vomit bowl, replaced Scott's icepack, and put the rest of the soup in the microwave for later. He turned all the lights off in the shop, locked the front door and sat next to Scott's bed.

XXX

Scott still felt miserable when he woke up the next afternoon, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the day before. He didn't even throw up as soon as he woke up. He wasn't as hot, probably because he had two icepacks on him now. It was hard to keep his eyes open but he didn't want to drift into a nightmare about dying.

He licked his dry lips, shifted onto his side, one of his icepacks sliding down his forehead. He adjusted it and yawned loudly. It felt great to be awake and not want to throw up. When Scott looked up, he blinked, surprised at the sight.

Harvey was still sitting in the same chair, out like a light, no doubt exhausted from caring for Scott the day prior. Thankfully, the man didn't look like he was getting sick.

There was a comfortable warmth in Scott's chest. He smiled at the thought that Harvey stayed the whole time. Down the line, whenever Harvey needed his assistance, Scott was going to stay as long as he needed.

If only everyone knew that Harvey Specter wasn't as rough and cold as people thought he was.

#Harvey Specter #Suits #antvnger #Scott Lang #Coffee Shop Owner Scott Lang #Normal Harvey Specter #Harvey cares for a Sick Scott #it's been forever since I've written anything omg #you can thank Google docs for that #this is also a long one #I tried to have it be short but sickfics are hard to keep short #at least for me lmao #vomit tw #fever tw #coffee shop au #drabble

[mutenized]

Red String of Fate

Modern Eddie Munson x AFAB Photographer reader 

Part 2 is here! thank you all for the love, it really means a lot! @omgitsd0lly​ really encouraged and supported me to make this fic more than it was going to be! With her support I’ve decided to make this a series so if you haven’t read part one you can find it here and the playlist I’ve made to accompany this work can be found here!

I really don’t know the word count since I’ve been drabbling this in my notes so apologies!

Also I don’t know the name of the one Hellfire Club/Corroded Coffin member so I’m making it up, please don’t hate me lmao

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of social anxiety, Dustin is 18 in the fic so it’s not like they’re taking a minor on tour but really would you think Eddie would separate himself from someone he sees as a little brother?

MASTERLIST / REQUEST SOMETHING 

Playful giggles left Robin and you as you two nestled together against the crowded bar. Taking advantage of the swarm of fans trying to say hi to Jeff, Gareth, Michael, and especially Eddie, Robin opens the gallery of her camera to show you the photos she took. On your way over, the two of you had agreed to laugh at photos that weren’t even that serious just to make Eddie even more jumpy than he already was.

“Oh and LOOK at this one! What a DORK!” A chortle left Robin which made Gareth push through the crowd to join the both of you at the bar. “That doesn’t look funny at all, what are you two doing?” With a lowered voice, you filled in the brunette in on your antics to which he enthusiastically joined in on. 

“Dude! Eddie looks fucking dumb! God bless him.” Fluttering his lashes while he faked a southern drawl, Gareth chuckled as a wheeze laugh escaped your lips. That was it. Politely excusing himself from the girl who wouldn’t stop clinging to his side and flirting, which he playfully returned, Eddie made his way to your part of the bar with crossed arms and feigned annoyance. 

“Let me see this photo!” Long arms reached for the expensive body of the camera in which Robin instantly reacted by leaning away from him and cradling it by her chest. 

“DUDE, I suggest you don’t grab for my baby unless you want a handful of boob and an earful of terrified screams.” The words that fell off of Robin’s lips made the taller metalhead to retract his arm back to his side before sighing dramatically.

“FINE but I’ll see them later in the hotel, you know that.” With a final pointed (but friendly) glare to the girl who reminded you so much of a more chaotic version of Peter Parker, Eddie’s chocolatey doe eyes focused on you as you nursed your vodka soda. “I’m Eddie, by the way. I hope these two didn’t make you think I’m too much of a dweeb.” Cracking a sideways smile, a hum escaped your throat. 

“I don’t know.... they both told me unholy secrets from your high school years...” a lie in which the duo played along with. God you three would be the death of him, he already knew it. 

“Oh god.” An exasperated sigh leaves him as his shoulders slump. Rolling your eyes, you hold your hand out and officially introduced yourself. “I was wondering what your name was. You tood out like a sore thumb compared to all this...” Wildly motioning his arms around, you took in the crowd only to shrug. “Hey I’m here to capture the moment and listen to good music, even if it usually isn’t my normal flavor.” With a swig of your drink, you placed the empty cup on the opposite side of the counter before waving to Bella who nodded and quickly threw the cup in the trash.

“Well, big boy,” you teased, slapping your hand against his chest, horror filling his face as he realized you had heard the name the girl whom was previously attached to his side had used, “I gotta go do my job and get the band’s set captured. See you after.”

Pushing through the crowd, you felt a mix of embarrassment and pride fill your chest. Little did you know, Eddie was staring at you with widened eyes and admiration whilst Gareth, Robin, and Jeff, who had joined at the tail end of the conversation, gaped and folded into one another laughing harder than ever before.

The show had come and gone, and you slouched behind the two folding tables that made up of the merch table for the bands. Leaning against the wall, you had gotten into a conversation with your friend’s girlfriend about the photos you’ve taken for the set as well as the ones you had snagged of them in the green room right after the set. Pride was too weak to describe how you felt about these photos, some of them being your best work. 

“Hey doll,” snapping your head to Saph, the singer and your friend, “I think fuzzball is making googly eyes at you like he was on stage. Need me to do anything?” Looking over her shoulder, you rolled your eyes playfully before shaking your head. “No, no it’s fine. I might’ve embarrassed him in front of his friends, so I think that’s why he’s like that.” Perking a brow, you filled Saph and her girlfriend in on everything which made tears fill both of their eyes as they folded and held their stomachs laughing. 

Making your way back over to the Corroded Coffin crew, you rested your elbow on Robin’s shoulder in which she responded by wrapping her arm around your waist. Your usual social anxiety was nowhere to be found, most likely thanks in part to the alcohol you had consumed earlier. You weren’t paying attention to the conversation filling the now empty venue until you heard your name being mentioned. 

“-so, what do you think? Want to join us on the rest of tour?” Snapping back to reality, your eyes focused on Jeff’s. “Oh word? What did you say? I’m sorry but I was zoned out.” A flush fell upon your cheeks as you admitted, half in part to your own fault of zoning out and other part due to Jeff asking you to join them on tour. 

“I was asking if you’d want to join us on the rest of tour. Robin’s main focus is on video so having her do double has been running us dry on content so...” Arching his brows and opening his arms out to you as if to say, ‘the choice is yours.’

Looking between the group consisting of your new friend Robin, Jeff, Gareth, Michael, and Eddie, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth gently as you rack your brain to see if you had any prior engagements. Shrugging after an anxious and hopeful pause, you nodded.

“Yea, sure! If you want, we can go out drinking then we can crash at my apartment which also gives me time to pack my shit.” A roar of cheers escaped the group before their merch slinger whom you had learned was named Dustin, trudged inside with a huff. “The merch is in the van, so what’s the deal for tonight!” 

The Barcade was filled with the ideal demographic, and the staff didn’t mind Dustin being 18 as long as he didn’t consume any alcohol, so that was a win. Leaning against the Space Invader cabinet that sat unused, your eyes dragged over Eddie’s figure as he and Gareth yelled at one another in competitive spirits. 

Twisting the wheels of the racing game, stomping of faux gas pedals were paired with the rigs that held the steering wheels in slamming as they hit the end. “Jesus, if you drive like this in a game, I’m glad you don’t drive the bus.” Walking over behind Eddie’s seat, you focus on his screen and cringe as multiple cars pass his. “Damn, big boy, put some pedal to the metal.” God, there you went with that damn pet name again. If you weren’t so oddly hyper focused on the screen, you would’ve missed the way Eddie’s ring clad fingers squeezed at the peeling faux leather of the steering apparatus. 

“Well, princess, better watch what you say. I bet I can beat your ass at this.” Eddie’s head tilted up so his gaze could meet yours. A competitive glint played in the pools of his deep orbs in which you fell into. Rolling your own eyes, your hand lightly shoved his head before pointing to his screen. “You literally drive like a fucking grandma, I can beat you.”

Hopping into the plastic seat to the right of Eddie’s you press 4 tokens into the slot before a ‘waiting’ emblem appeared on screen. Eddie wouldn’t admit it, but between the way you had easily meshed with him and his chosen family, paired with the way you returned the playful jabs he was commonly known for using, his head was dizzy with an affection he hadn’t felt for anyone in a while. He was positive he was being delusional in his tipsy state when he thought that there was a magnetic pull between you both. 

Yet he didn’t know you thought the same thing within the first moment your palm met his.

‘Red string of fate is tangling I'll gently pull on the thread Unravel all that's mangling Unclear thoughts in my head’

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson reader insert #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #rockstar eddie munson #robin buckley #afab reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things drabble #stranger things s4 #stranger things 4 #corroded coffin #hellfire club #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn reader insert #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series

[cloudbattrolls]

You & Me (Part Two)

Jikiro Takami | Gliese Benral’s Hive | Present Night

The preceding drabble is You & Me (Part One).

The blueblood’s fear turned into a snarl.

“So what, I killed the lusus. You would’ve realized you had to do the same. I just got right to it, instead of trying to pretend there was another option to feel better about myself.”

Jikiro’s eyebrows raised.

“You know.” He said casually. “People like telling me that I’ll have to be more ruthless or whatever eventually. I don’t know why that’s such a popular thing to say; it gets kind of old after a while. I also don’t know why they think I’m going to wring my hands if I have to do some dirty work. I’ve done it before.”

“Whatever.” Replied the cerulean dismissively. “Just go away. There’s nothing for you here.”

The tealblood scratched his neck idly.

“Yeah…about that. See, you killed me, so I think I deserve a few answers. First off: what’s your name?”

The blueblood froze, her lusus sniffing the air suspiciously, his long ears pricked in alertness.

“Gliese.” she said at last. “My name is Gliese.”

“Cool. So…why did you really kill the lusus?”

“Excuse me? I told you when we first met.” She said, irritated again.

Jikiro raised a finger in objection.

“No, you said you didn’t owe me an explanation and threatened to chop my legs off.”

“Should’ve done that to begin with.” He heard her mutter, looking directly at him. The lusus continued to watch the tealblood, nose twitching, and then she spoke again at a normal volume.

“Fine. I killed it because I’ve seen an abusive lusus before, I saw exactly how fucking bad it got. It’s horrible in ways I can’t even begin to describe. Watching it was hell and I don’t even like that girl. Eichio…he’s a pain too, honestly, but who the fuck wouldn’t be with a lusus like that? He’s so fucked up, but now he finally has a chance to get better.”

Jikiro sighed.

“You thought stealing and killing his dad was the best way to help him? I do not want to know what it’s like in your head.”

The hare troll bristled. 

“Get yours checked, asshole.” She barked. “I looked in and I immediately looked out, it was fucking terrifying. I have dealt with the creepy overlord of undead before! You’re worse.”

The tanuki troll blinked, then snorted.

Hanabi had mentioned back in his hive, after Jamie had left, that his nature protected him from mental attack now…but he hadn’t realized it was automatic. Or horrifying, apparently. 

He shrugged.

“Don’t be a nosy little jerk rifling through my thoughts, then. Just talk to Eichio, he at least deserves an explanation.”

“What good would it do?” She snapped. “Do I seem like I’m great at being tactful and sensitive? I fucking know myself, I don’t want to hurt him further.”

Jikiro sighed, crossing his arms. 

“Eichio’s stronger than you think. You should at least try.”

The cerulean bit her lip with her long front fangs. She hesitated, her ears flicking as she thought.

“No.” She said after half a minute or so. “If I came and talked to him, who knows what’s waiting for me? How can I trust you? I don’t know you.”

The air was still, silence stretching between the two trolls as the hare lusus shifted beneath his daughter, his long limbs as tense as the atmosphere was.

Jikiro took out some ink and drank it, then extended a hand.

A cloud of darkness swirled into existence, surrounding the blueblood and her father as the tealblood ran over.

Skeletons broke through the ground to drag at his legs, and he gritted his teeth, rapidly drawing rough symbols on their skulls - they fell apart into piles of bones.

Cold. Cold again. Frigid, choking on frost in his throat  -

Then it stopped. All at once everything stopped.

Jikiro kept running, slipped inside his cloud - 

- narrowly avoiding the snap of the lusus’s large fangs as it tried to take his arm off, feeling its warm breath.

He grabbed the thing by the throat, ignoring its kicks, and drew a symbol on its fur to subdue it. It slumped, and he looked at the prone highblood on its back.

She had passed out. Why? The darkness? That seemed unlikely.

Jikiro easily plucked the small girl off her prone caretaker, and less easily choked in shock when she leapt out of his arms, stepped back, and ran him through with a long, bladed weapon faster than he could react. His thick, dark blood ran slowly down his shirt and pants.

“Nice fucking try.” She snarled. 

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Jikiro coughed.

A brief look of confusion flitted across her face before she raised her blade again, only to have the cloud of darkness condense and wrap around her in undulating coils, staining her body and clothes black as her arms were pressed against her body. Her weapon dropped to the ground.

Part of the coils returned to the tealblood, liquefying and sealing his wound. He breathed heavily, still feeling the pain of it, slightly bent over with one hand braced against his knee.

“Stop.” He said through gritted teeth. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

The clatter of skeletons reassembling themselves and running at him was the only answer.

Jikiro quickly downed more ink, and climbed on top of the prone hare lusus, who hissed in pain.

He breathed.

In.

Out.

They came closer, jaws clattering, eye sockets glowing orange.

The tanuki troll drew on his own skin, covering his face and arms with a rapid swathe of symbols, and as the bony fingers reached for him, they all linked together - swarming onto the bones of one skeleton, then another and another until all of them were covered, the white bone only half visible under the swirling ink.

The constructs stopped cold.

Jikiro’s dark eyes glowed slightly orange, and he saw the blueblood’s widen. 

Then she screamed, loudly enough that the mage covered his ears, and he felt a sickening lurch as the air filled with cold and malaise.

He couldn’t win this, he realized, as he vaulted off the animal.

Not yet, not alone.

Jikiro withdrew the coils around Gliese and wrapped them around himself instead, turning them into a shield to keep the ghosts out - not for long, he could feel the press of hundreds at his barrier.

Quickly, he drew more symbols on his clothing, ink flying in his haste - headed not for the shrine, but somewhere closer, somewhere he needed to be. 

Again Jikiro was enveloped as phantom energy tried to drag him down - but his magic whisked him away, leaving not even a stain behind on the grass.

—

The businessman reappeared close to the lake near Viltau’s hive. He stretched heavily, but he was definitely going to ache for a few nights from that wound and the lusus’s kicks. Damn blueblood.

Yet she’d hesitated. She’d genuinely considered his words. He had been so close.

He could discuss it with the others later, figure out a strategy. First he had something else to take care of, something important.

The tealblood closed his eyes, focusing. He hasn’t used his power from such a distance before, but he knew he could do it.

He left directions in code on the kitchen counter, ones that would slowly fade to nothing when touched, so the reader had limited time to copy them down. When decoded, they’d give the first location of an arrow in the hive, which would have more instructions leading to another, which would also fade slowly when touched. 

The second would be harder to find, the last harder still - and when touched, it would fly off its surface and away, leading the indigo to where he stood. 

Jikiro pulled out his phone to answer business messages, ready to wait patiently; he wondered how long it would take. Then he paused and straightened up his outfit and his hair, throwing on a nice jacket to hide the hole his shirt had gotten from the blade (and as many of the ink stains as he could).

He smiled, knowing exactly what he would say when his friend figured it out and found him. 

Hey, Viltau. Got time to talk?

#cloud writes #jikiro takami #gliese benral #now time to plan assault on anger bunny: with maidel and xrumon's funny music box #ripple effect

[lalainajanes]

Klaroline as mates and Caroline questioning Klaus' sanity and/or thinking he was knocked on the head one too many times in the last thousand years for this to even be a possibility. :]

Everywhere With You

She stumbles, deliberate and maybe too theatrical, wind milling her arms and tottering like the heel’sshe’s wearing are going to be her downfall. They’re not - Caroline spent muchof her early teens prepping for Miss Mystic walking the stairs of her house ina cheap pair of pumps from Payless (getting her mom to buy them had been an ordeal) with a book on her head – butthe creep who’s following her has no way of knowing that.

Caroline lets herself crash into a light pole, makes a showof catching her balance, and throws her head back with a laugh that’sboisterous and supposed to sound slightly drunk. She closes her eyes andfocuses her hearing waiting for whoever’s been on her tail to make a freakingmove already.

She usually sticks to blood bags, because that’s what goodvampires do, but tonight she’s willing to make an exception. If some creep’sgoing to pick her as an easy mark Caroline’s going to make sure he regrets it.

She holds her breath, her hair spilling down in messy wavesto cover the red of her eyes and fangs she’s let out. She’s sure someone hadbeen watching her, that the rustling of leaves in the trees that line thispathway back to her dorm room had been caused by something other than animalsand the wind.

Nothing moves, now one ambles out of the woods or speeds upthe path.

Still, Caroline knowsshe’s not alone.

It’s been a weird couple of weeks.

The transition to college life hadn’t been as smooth asshe’d always expected. She’d been so excited at graduation, ready to have akickass summer and tackle college. She’d convinced her mom to take a quick tripto the cabin with her and they’d had a great time talking and watching moviesand lounging on the docks. She’d started to feel jittery then, almost likeshe’d forgotten something important, had wracked her brains for what it couldpossibly be.

Repeatedly, even when she’d known it was silly.

When they’d returned home she’d scrubbed the house from topto bottom, organized and rearranged until her back ached (no small feat givenher vampire status) hoping to put the feeling to rest.

Nothing had helped and her bad temper had continued to grow.She’d mostly managed to keep a lid on it, her mom’s odd hours helping. Carolinecould manage a sunny smile and genial chatter for the hour or so they spenttogether at meals. Still, she’d caught the worried looks her mother wasshooting her, had to brush off and redirect concerned questions.

Caroline had started taking long walks, plodding through thewoods that surrounded Mystic Falls trying to figure out what was wrong withher.

At first she’d chalked up her moodiness to the fact that shewas lonely. Bonnie was gone for the summer, Tyler’s return date unknown as heseemed reluctant to leave the pack he’d befriended and Elena too wrapped up inher weird Damon thing to have muchtime for her. Caroline had tried to get a jump on her classes, purchased hertextbooks (required and supplemental)but when it came time to sit down and read them her brain just wouldn’tcooperate.

She was constantly restless, could barely get four hours ofsleep in a night, consumed extra portions of blood and binged on Cheetos tocompensate.

She’d desperately hoped that things would get better onceshe was settled at Whitmore. She’d planned to dive into extra-curricularactivities, hoped that being busy was what she’d need to feel normal again.

Six weeks into her semester she was forced to admit that allthe clubs she’d joined and committees she was a part of hadn’t helped as muchas she wanted them too. It was a littlebetter, true. She could get through a lecture, was on top of her homework. Hersleep schedule was still a mess and she had made zero new friends. Caroline’sold ones weren’t big fans of her either at the moment.

The feeling that something was off was like an itch, aconstant nagging irritant that she just couldn’t figure out how to fix. Maybeshe was just looking for another outlet and she’d imagined the eyes she’s beenfeeling on her all evening.

Caroline groans aloud, forcing her fangs away now that itlooks like she’s just a paranoid nutjob. She sits and flops back onto the grass(she’s in no hurry to get back to her room, she’s been snappy and extra cuttingwith Bonnie and Elena lately and they’re really not having it anymore, not thatCaroline blames them). She’s tempted to scream but settles for kicking herheels into the ground for a moment, shaking her head and clenching her fists.

She’s too old for tantrums but it’s not like anyone elsewill ever know.

She relaxes with a sigh, scrubbing her hand over her face infrustration. “Maybe I’ve been cursed or something,” she mutters. “I’ll getBonnie to check. If she’s stilltalking to me.” A noise from the treeline breaks into her self-pity party andCaroline tenses, rolling over and digging her hands into the ground in case sheneeds to spring.

She expects a smarmy frat boy, his hands up like he’s not athreat (which he wouldn’t be, but still) even as his eyes rake her over.

She does notexpect a giant freaking wolf.

The wolf’s golden in color, thickly furred and powerfullybuilt. It keeps its head is down, its pace sedate, no hint of teeth oraggression visible as it pads in her direction. “What in the…”

She’s just gathering herself to run when its head lifts, asif it had understood her words, meeting her gaze directly. Caroline deflates,because the tiny bit of hope she’d had that it was just a wolf (its size made it unlikely but a girl could dream) –something that she could outrun – is dashed.

Good thing she’d never deleted Klaus’ number. She’dconsidered it often over the summer, his words, the weight of them, ringing in her mind. Her last love was a long waysoff and she had a long list of things to achieve before it was something shecould even begin to consider.

She’d stared at it in the darkness of her bedroom, duringthose nights where sleep just wouldn’t come, thumb hovering over the screen andunable to make the final tap that would erase him, put him out of her reach. Atthe time she’d been annoyed at herself, at the tiny voice that insisted shedidn’t want to make it impossible tocontact him.

Turns out that tiny voice totally had her back because itwas entirely possible she was going to get chomped on tonight.

Again.

Caroline gets to her knees, holds her palms up and speakssoothingly, “Nice, wolfy. Good boy. I know we’re like, mortal enemies orwhatever, but I’m really not that tasty. Promise. The amount of artificialcolors and flavors I’ve been ingesting lately is really going to screw up yourdigestion. Trust me.”

It snorts, almost like it’s amused, but doesn’t halt itsapproach.

She stills when it gets close, breath coming out in analarmed huff as its snout nudges at her hip. She swallows back a yelp when shesees its jaws open – because those teeth were no joke – but he merely bitesdown on the hem of her denim jacket, tugging firmly in the direction of thewoods.

Caroline swallows, and tries to sound confident, “Uh, nooffense but I’m going to have to pass. I’d rather my body be found, you know?Have a nice funeral.”

He lets out another noise, this one impatient, dropping herjacket and licking her wrist. “Ew,” she squeals, pulling away. “Slobber, much?”

The wolf’s clamped down on her jacket again and this timeit’s less of a tug and more of a drag. She debates ditching it and making a runfor it but that seems like it’ll only piss off the werewolf – not something shewants to do. She might have an advantage in the woods, she knows the trails(running has been one of her attempts to cope with her never-ending ennui) andif she could just get up a tree she’d be able to call for backup.

“Okay, okay.” Caroline climbs to her feet. Her jacket’sreleased and the wolf circles behind her, cold nose nudging the back of herknee. She turns and gives her best unimpressed look, not that it gets much of areaction, but she starts walking towards the trees. “Kidnapped again. Notawesome,” she grumbles. Though she has to admit that this wolf might be hermost pleasant kidnapper yet. He hasn’t even growled at her.

She tries to speed up but the wolf stays on her heels.Caroline’s never been herded before but she can safely say she’s not a fan. She recognizes the path hedirects her too, knows it’s one of the ones that leads to the backroad on theother side of the forest. She’s taken aback, having anticipated he’d force herdeeper into the woods and not towards civilization. The trees are spindliertoo, unfortunately, nothing that she can scale high enough to get away fromsnapping teeth and claws.

She tries to stay calm, ignores the more rapid beating ofher heart. Caroline reaches into her pocket, grips her phone tightly. Maybeshe’ll get lucky and there will be a car she can flag down on the road. Thewolf bounds ahead of her at the edge of the forest making a beeline for thelarge black SUV that’s parked on the shoulder.

She should make a run for it but her feet won’t cooperate,random pieces of information clicking rapidly into place.

She knows thatSUV.

She hears a sharp crack before she can say anything, followedby the crunch and squish of bone and cartilage and sinew shifting. She takesthe few paces forward so she can see the transformation, just to confirm whatshe’s begun to expect.

It’s quicker than she’d expected, more quiet too, only a fewharsh exhalations as Klaus shifts into the form she recognizes.

Well, mostly. She’d never seen him totally naked before.

Except for those dreams that she pretends she doesn’t have.

Her eyes drift down his back before she can think of why sheshouldn’t let them, noting the parts of his anatomy she’d not had the chance toperuse that long afternoon where he’d been trapped in Silas’ mind game. It isn’tuntil Klaus stands, a graceful movement of muscle and skin that she can’t helpbut be a little mesmerized by.

Something he clearly notices if the unbearably smug littlesmirk he wears is anything to go by.

She whirls, crossing her arms and straightening her spine,“Yeah, I’m going to need you to put on some pants.”

His laugh is soft but she hears him opening a door,rummaging around. The quiet jangling of a belt and the whisper of fabric followshortly after. Her foot begins to tap without her permission, her impatiencegrowing as questions begin to whirl. She wants to peek over her shoulder(because seriously, how long could it take?Pants, shirts. Easy peasy).

“I’m decent, sweetheart,” he says, after an agonizingly longtime.

She spins on her heel, “I highly doubt that,” Carolinespits. He’s got his arms lifted, fiddling with the ever present cords he wearsaround his neck and this time she keeps her eyes trained firmly on his face andnot on any lifting his shirt may ormay not be doing.

Klaus grins, amused. “Perhaps you’ve a point.”

Her eyes narrow as she takes in his complete ease. It justwasn’t fair. “Decent people don’t scare other people half to death by being acreepy stalking giant ball of furry death, Klaus.”

He sobers, if only slightly. “I apologize if I scared you.It wasn’t my intention. I didn’t mean…” he trails off and it might be the firsttime Caroline’s ever seen him stop to consider his words.

“You didn’t mean what?”she presses. “What are you even doinghere? New Orleans sounded pretty freaking great when you described it. Did youpiss everyone off and get kicked out or what?”

His eyes light up, “Ah so you did get my message. I’dwondered.”

She hopes it’s dark enough that Klaus can’t see her facebecause she knows it’s possible she’s blushing a bit. She’d listened to hismessage more times than she’d ever admit, had a hard time tamping down thewants it brought out in her.

There was plenty of time to explore the world, she had toldherself. Her mother only had a finite number of years and the least Carolinecould do was get a college diploma she could brag about before she had to gooff the grid with her never aging face.

He continues, leaning back against his SUV, not waiting forher to reply. “And while I wouldn’t say I was kicked out of New Orleans therewere several people who were most displeased with my behavior.”

“Did you try to murder them? Because that’s not the way tomake friends and influence people, Klaus.”

He hums, lips quirking up in a smile, “Debatable, love.However as a matter of fact I did not. I merely got a bit… moody.”

“You?” Caroline gasps in mock surprise, laying her hand overher heart, “Well I never.”

He sighs in exasperation but it’s playful, pushing away fromthe vehicle and walking towards her. “After one particularly rousing fightRebekah told me that if I didn’t get out of her sight she and Elijah would teamup, find a witch, and smother me in my sleep. Repeatedly.”

Caroline shrugs, “You kinda have something like that coming,don’t you think? Given the whole dagger thing.”

“She found those. Unfortunately. Leaving me no other optionbut to retreat from the house.”

“And what, you came here? That’s an awful long walk.”

“Not directly. This was nearly a month ago. I headed out tothe Bayou, turned, wondering if some time as a wolf would help my temperament.”

“And did it?” Caroline asks, curious where this story wasgoing.

“I never got a chance to find out. I couldn’t turn back.”

“But you just…”

He shakes his head, “I went back to the house, had a greatdeal of difficulty communicating my dilemma to Elijah, as I’m sure you canimagine. Eventually, he got the gist of it, found a witch.”

“And the witch turned you back?”

“If only it were that easy,” Klaus says, the twist of hislips wry.

She’s about to ask what exactly that means but he steps a little closer, reaching out and wrappinghis fingers around her wrist. It’s gentle, something she feels like she canbreak if she needs to though she has no immediate urge to pull away. Herquestions stick in her throat when his thumb flutters over her pulse point, hereyes widening in shock at the jolt it sends up her arm. When he speaks againit’s quieter, with a hesitance that’s uncharacteristic, but he’s close enoughthat she doesn’t need to strain. “What do you know about mates, Caroline?”

“Mates,” she repeats slowly. “I know it’s about the leastsexy word for significant other there is. And that Dawson’s Creek made ittotally gross. Just because a boy thinks he’s your soulmate doesn’t mean heowns your hymen.”

He’s still touching her, and she still doesn’t mind, hisface relaxed and filled with a fondness that’s hard for her to look away from.“In terms of werewolves, love. It’s old lore, something I myself discounted soit’s reasonable that you’re unfamiliar with the stories.”

“Werewolves have mates?”

Klaus nods, “I was skeptical too. But the witch insisted,even under Rebekah’s very dire threats, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to tryher suggestion. Reasoned that I could always find someone more competent lateron.”

“Okay,” Caroline drawls, knowing she’s missing somethingfrom Klaus’ expectant gaze. “So what happened next?”

“We drove to Whitmore. I weathered Elijah’s incessantcomplaints about the fur on his upholstery. We parked outside your dorm roomand I was finally able to change back.”

Her jaw drops, a staccato burst of laughter spilling fromher. Klaus doesn’t even twitch, eyes knowing and patient. “You’re saying thatI’m…”

“Tell me, Caroline, did you feel off this summer? Pricklyand not quite yourself?”

How could he know that? “I…” she splutters for a moment, “Iwas just adjusting, you know? Things haven’t exactly been sunshine and rainbowsfor me, you know? I’m not…”

“My sources tell me Tyler hasn’t returned. That he’s met alovely young werewolf in his travels and seems loathe to leave Carson City.”

“That,” Caroline snaps, tugging her arm away from him, “isnone of your business.”

Klaus holds up his hands, dips his head in contrition,“Apologies. But I wonder if you’ve missed him like you used to. Or has itchanged, grown more distant?”

A small thread of alarm grows in Caroline at his tooaccurate words. “How do you know that?” she hisses.

“Call it a hunch. And you’ve not taken up with any of thecollege boys who seek you out.”

She throws her hands up, “Okay, seriously. How long have youbeen stalking me? That’s not okay, Klaus.”

Klaus’ eyes flash gold, a hint of temper in the set of hisjaw, “I had little choice, Caroline. I have no desire to live as a wolfindefinitely. I’d not have disturbed you, I haven’tdisturbed you, but tonight I couldn’t help it. The pull to you was stronger inthat form than I had anticipated and I couldn’t resist it.”

She digests that, studying him warily, “How long have youbeen here?”

“I arrived your first week. Right around the time yourirritability became a little more manageable, I’d wager.”

Bonnie and Elena had been alarmingly close to joining forcesand snapping her neck just to get some peace those first few days of sharedproximity, Caroline knew. It was only the easing of the varied extreme moodsshe’d been experiencing that had led them to back off. At the time she hadn’tput much thought into the change, just relieved she was functioning at areasonable level once more.

“So you’re saying I felt better because you were around.Because I’m your…” she can’t say it. It seems too crazy.

Klaus has no such issue, the word spilling out crisp andfirm, “Mate. Precisely. Proximity eases the worst of the symptoms though you’llstill be off unless we have regular contact.”

“Contact,” Caroline repeats, slightly dubious.

Klaus watches her carefully, eases back into her space. Heskims his fingertips up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, andshe fights a shiver. She shouldn’t wanthim to touch her but she body aches for more now that he is. His palm settleson her neck, slipping under her hair to cup her nape. She knots her hands inher skirt to keep from reaching out to him, thanks her lucky stars her bra hasa molded cup. “Physical contact,” Klaus elaborates, low and with an edge of roughnessthat has her stomach clenching.

She takes a shaky breath, tries to gather her splinteringthoughts. “You’re insane. I can’t…”

He takes her other hand with his free one, tangling theirfingers together. “I know this isn’t something you’d planned for, Caroline. AndI truly meant to stay away. But I couldn’t.”

She can’t think, not with the way he’s touching her.

Caroline grits her teeth and takes a giant step back,shivering for an entirely different reason, feeling cold and a return of thatprickling uncomfortableness. Klaus’ body goes taut, his stance widening as hefights to stay still. She takes a deep breath, “I’m not sure I buy this.”

His snort is derisive but she shoots him a quelling look, “Iadmit you’ve made some sense and some of your arguments are… persuasive. But Ineed to think. And do some research.”

He looks like he’s about to protest but she cuts him offquickly, “You’ve had time to think this through. I get the same.”

His expression conveys his displeasure but he nods, a shortjerk, and his eyes never leave her face. She takes a step back, “I’ll call you.When I’m ready.”

Klaus’ makes a soft noise of assent. “Fine,” he replies. “I’llbe waiting.” The words play on a loop as she retreats.

It was probably a bad sign that she found them comforting.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #excuse me while I try to drabble my way out of a slump #ofpaintandoil

[sor-vette]

Twenty Nine on Thirty {drabble}

• type: Yoongi x fem! reader • genre/about: angst, ex's to lovers • w/c: 1.1k

• tagging/permanent tag: @pinkcherrybombs; @babycoffeefire; @moon-write; @introlxv

• masterlist

• what’s happening in Ukraine and how to help

• a/n: a little something for Yoongi's birthday. May he always have what he needs. If you want to, you can now tip me on ko-fi :)

1:27 ───ㅇ───── 3:14

"You're just going to get older and harder and more alone. And one day you're going to look around and you're going to realize that everybody loves you! ...but no one likes you. And that's going to be one of the loneliest feelings in the world."

What even was this radio? Who puts a TED talk to play in a bar?

Yoongi tipped another glass of soju into his mouth, sloshing around it like mouthwash. The bartender gazed on partly horrified, partly impressed but made no move to interrupt Yoongi's self-congratulatory pity party. Good, he really was not done wallowing.

Opening his phone he re-read the messages one by one.

Namjoon: Happy Birthday, Yoongi, sorry I can't make it little ones are coughing like crazy. Have to make sure, they're not too sick. Sorry, again but we'll celebrate tomorrow, yeah?

Jin: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRO i can't make it today, family meeting *sigh*

Jungkook: Happy Birthday! May you have a year of good health and content!

Hoseok: HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU GROUCH! The doctor won't discharge me, says the ankle is still too tender for me to walk around. But we'll celebrate when I get out of here for real! HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOONGS! :D

Taehyung: sent a little something on your way. try not to be too sad this day

Jimin: I'm really, really sorry, my flight got cancelled and I'm stuck in Paris now :( Happy birthday, Yoongi. I'm really sorry I couldn't be there for you.

So no one came. Yoongi had broken his tradition of ignoring his birthday just this once and no one came in the end. He sat by the table, with one of his more decent jackets, long hair neatly combed, so neatly he couldn't even remember the last time his hair wasn't a bird's nest, with seven menus in a pile, a birthday cake ordered and absolutely no one to eat it with.

Blankly watching the cars go past the restaurant window, he idly tinkered with the candle perched on top of the cat's head. At least, he hadn't gotten those obnoxious large numbers so that everyone here would see that a thirty-year-old man can in fact be stood up at his own birthday party. His phone rang and for a second, his heart leapt, thinking that maybe it was you. Maybe you remembered and just maybe you wanted to know.

He picked it up with an eager face but quickly slumped hearing his mother's voice.

"Son," she greeted him warmly. "Happy birthday!"

"Hello, mom. Thank you."

"My boy is thirty already," she cried. "Thirty! When will I have grandchildren?"

He figured she'd ask it.

"I don't know. Not anytime soon."

"What you and your girlfriend are doing, huh? You've been together for five years! And no engagement ring, no children, nothing!"

And unbeknownst to her, there was no more girlfriend at that. He hadn't told her yet. If he broke it to the guys then it would be a pause, a break, a little diversion, but if he broke it to his mother then it would be official. And the ring that he had carried in his pocket for a year and still continued to carry would be as useless as the sorry he said far too late.

"Put her on the phone, will you? I haven't spoken to her in ages!" Why naturally she hadn't. There was no one to speak to. Only listen to Yoongi's ever-shrinking list of excuses - you're busy, you're doing something else, you're out. You were simply not here.

He looks on at the smiling cat as though it's mocking him and while twirling the ring box in his pocket, gathered what was left of him to say the damning words.

"Mom, listen, she's-"

"She's very eager to hear you too, Mrs Min!" your voice squealed in fake cheer right next to him before plucking the phone out of Yoongi's stilled fingers. You were sitting by the table, a soft, sad smile playing on your lips, one that only Yoongi could see.

"Hello! Long time no see! Yes, I've been working very hard! How is Mr Min? Good! Oh, children, heh," you laughed and glanced at him, face unreadable. "Oh, it's still too early to say, Mrs Min. Yes, well what can you do, that's the youth for you! Yes, thank you very much. Yes, I'll tell him. Yes, thank you. And you. Bye."

Bye. He hadn't gotten to say bye to you.

When you closed the phone and pushed it towards him all the lightness in your body disappeared.

"Thanks," he muttered and you nodded.

"The cake kind of looks like you," you remarked casually. Like you're still friends, like nothing had happened, like the year apart was just a blink spent in between loving gazes.

"Yeah, well, that's why I got it."

"Shouldn't you light the candle, make a wish? If you broke the rule of not doing anything, shouldn't you go all out?"

"I don't need a candle to wish for things. I already know what I want."

You sigh, "Yoongi..."

"I want you to come back. I want for that night to never have happened. I want you to nag me to drink more water, I want to nag you to pay your phone bill on time," he wants to stop, he desperately needs to stop, but he can't anymore. He's been sitting prim and quiet for an entire year and now it just all rushes out.

"I want to buy you flowers on Sunday and I want to take you on Wednesdays."

"Yoongi..."

"Do you even remember what we fought about?"

You sigh once more seeing the determination in his eyes.

"No," solemnly, you answer. "No, I do not."

He reaches to hold your hand. It's been so long and he just wants to hold your hand on this terrible birthday of his. Thankfully you don't push him away.

"So, let's just...put it past us."

"Are you sure this is not dementia talking?"

Yoongi frowns.

"Dementia?" he echoes, dumbfounded.

"Now that you're one of the elderly."

He cracks a light, tentative smirk.

"You're not so far behind, grandma."

He leans in to rest his forehead on yours and you screw your eyes shut.

"If we want to do this...it'll take a lot of work, Yoongi. Like a lot. You're sure you want to do this?"

The ring resting in his pocket like a ton of rocks says yes. And now so will his mouth.

"Absolutely."

You breathe a shaky exhale and run your fingers through his hair. Good, that he combed it.

"Happy birthday, Yoongles."

© sor-vette, 2022

#yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi drabble #yoongi angst #bts drabble #bts angst

[amatchinwater]

55: “ Shut up and kiss me already. ” for Stiles/Jackson

This was supposed to be a drabble...then my gremlin brain decided that I was going to be in a writing slump for all of my other ships. It saw Stackson and went crazy...I hope you like it <3

---

Keep your friends close and your enemies closer is one of the stupidest things Stiles has ever heard. Well, it’s a strong contender for Derek telling him and Jackson to hang out to have some bonding time. In what fucking world does it make sense for Stiles to be buddy-buddy with his literal bully since grade school?

It doesn’t.

Jackson, Mr. I’m Hotter and Richer than All of You doesn’t want to be seen hanging around with the pack’s token human. To be perfectly honest, the feeling is fucking mutual. Why would Stiles want to spend “quality time” with striking blue eyes, a chiseled jaw, and a mouth he wants to devour?

Right.

Because against all logic and reason, hating Jackson is the farthest thing from his mind. Stiles has the worst crush on the wolf in the world. The asshole jock that slams him into lockers and can hold his own against the human’s sarcasm. Listen, Stiles knows he shouldn’t like Jackson, really he does know that. Someone should tell that to his traitorous heart that swoons over the smirks and required scenting for pack stability. Not to mention the stupid thing in his pants that is all too pleased whenever Jackson slams him into something with glowing blue eyes.

It’s a problem. He knows that too. And Stiles really did try and get out of hanging out with the ex-kanima. But everyone else is on a date, so he can’t say he has other plans. Practice was canceled, so no using soreness as an excuse. And other than Lydia, Stiles has the highest marks in their class- he can get away with not studying for one night. Something tells him though that Lydia made sure all of the above were in place just for this purpose.

She knows how Stiles feels. The banshee saw him on a pretty bad day of pining after he saw the wolf kissing Ethan. That day sucked. But she didn’t judge him and now he can talk to someone about it. Jackson also hasn’t kissed the other wolf since, small victories. But it’s like everyone purposefully made plans so he has no choice but to be left with Jackson.

God, the grin- like Peter level grin- Derek had when he told Stiles the change to pack night was a little unnerving. Their Alpha is as observant as he is broody. He more than likely knows as well. Stiles just didn’t think he would actively torture him.

Yet, here he is, sitting in his house alone with Jackson, trying to keep his stupid heart and chemosignals in check. But that’s really fucking hard when the wolf showed up in jeans that leave nothing to the imagination and his lacrosse hoodie. Their thighs in constant contact, leaving the human feeling all warm and nice knowing he’s being scented. Making Stiles want to do nothing but curl up and-

“What the fuck are you staring at, Stilinski?” Jackson yanks the human out of his head. His words hold none of the heat he’d expected to be there.

Oh god, how long had he been looking at him “Nothing!” Stiles sputters out far too loud and way too high pitched. Even a human would hear the obvious lie.

“Bullshit,” the wolf says, crossing his arms and turning in his slouch, pressing their legs together more. “Maybe you want to tell me the truth,” Jackson says, sounding rather amused. Playful. Almost flirty.

What the-

Yeah, that’s not a face Stiles can handle right now. He jumps up from the couch, “you want a drink?” The human calls over his shoulder as he practically runs out of the living room, not waiting for an answer. All the while internally scolding himself for not holding it together in front of the ex-kanima. Get. A. Grip. He opens the fridge, pulling out a mountain dew for himself and a gatorade for the jock. Aggressively opening his can, he takes a swing, sliding it on the counter. He can’t give the Beta more fuel for his jokes.

He won’t.

“Stiles,” Jackson’s voice is so soft, he almost didn’t think he’d heard it had it not been for the body heat excruciatingly close to his back. When he doesn’t turn around, a finger trails down his spine, making him shiver.

That gets him to face the wolf. Expression full of shock and confusion. “Y-yeah?” Stiles asks, breathless as he backs towards the counter for some distance. He doesn’t trust himself so close. So much for getting a grip, his heart hammering away in his chest.

“Why do you fight me so much?” Jackson steps in his space, voice still incredibly soft. He reaches his hand out, fingers ghosting against Stiles’ before he stops himself, “it shouldn’t be this hard.”

Why does he- what shouldn’t be this hard? What the fuck is going on? He’s so confused and wants to ask the former kanima what the hell he’s talking about. But with Jackson this closer, it’s a little hard to breathe let alone think. So, “huh,” is the only thing that falls past his lips.

“Derek told me that it’s normal for a wolf to be rough when trying to initiate the courting process with their mate.” Their mate? Stiles’ eyes bulge as the jock steps impossibly closer, but somehow still not making physical contact. It’s unnerving, he wants more. “It’s important for the wolf to assert its dominance; prove it’s a strong, worthy mate.”

You’ve got to be joking. Staring, slack jaw at honest blue eyes, “so every time you slammed into a locker or a wall-”

“My wolf was waving its dick around, yes.” Jackson reaches out, grabbing Stiles’ hips. The touch sparking electricity in his bones.

“And you couldn’t use your big boy words because…”

“It was an instinct I couldn’t control after the first time I smelled your arousal directed at me.” Jackson pressed their bodies together, slotting their hips perfectly and Stiles bites down a whine. The jock rubs his nose along the human’s pulse. The most animalistic he’s truly acted and it makes Stiles shiver and grab the wolf’s biceps. “You smell so good and I-” he rubs his cheek, rumbling in his chest. “I want you to smell like me. Like us.”

“You don’t even like me,” the human squeezes the other boy’s arms, not really sure why other than the need to feel that he’s really there. It’s a weak argument at best, but Jackson’s wolf wanting him isn’t quite the same as wanting him himself.

The jock pulls back with wide eyes, “but I do, Stiles.” Jackson’s grip tightens, his thigh spreading the human’s legs just enough to slot between. “I really do. My wolf just needed to pull my head out of my ass is all.”

“Okay, but-”

“Stiles,” Jackson flashes iridescent eyes at him, sending a fire in his gut. “Shut up and kiss me already.”

An instruction he never thought he’d hear from the jock. But one he wants to follow through with so badly. Stiles licks his bottom lip, watching the wolf’s curl into a grin. Fuck it. To hell with the chance of this not being real and just for show. So long as he gets to kiss the wolf at least once. His fingers twitch as they slide up to Jackson’s shoulders and before he can lose his nerve, Stiles crashes their mouths together. The sounds of absolute relief from both teens is unmistakable. A soft growl in the back of Jackson’s throat and a small moan from Stiles’.

The wolf’s hands snake around the other boy’s back, keeping them close as his tongue swipes across Stiles’ bottom lip. His mouth opens instantly, letting Jackson deepen their kiss to his heart’s content, grinding against the human. A loud clearing of a throat startles the boys apart, finding his father in the kitchen, watching them with a weird mixture of amusement eyes and a stern mouth.

“Let’s maybe keep things a little above the belt while I’m home,” the sheriff says before walking out of the kitchen.

“Come on,” Jackson kisses the corner of Stiles’ shocked, open mouth. Taking both hands in his, the wolf leads him back to the living room. Laying down on the couch, Jackson adjusts until there’s enough space beside him for the human to curl up with him. Once comfortable snuggled up to the wolf, Jackson nuzzles the back of his neck, kissing him softly.

Maybe Derek and Lydia knew what they were doing.

Maybe Stiles is grateful.

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #jackson whitemore #stackson #stiles x jackson #jackson x stiles #thank you for asking #Match Writes

[btsmosphere]

Crossing Paths - drabble from the Crossfire universe

request from @excusemyuwus -

I remember Tae said he had a crush on her while working on that project so now I kinda want to see his pov of that time and how he was holding being around his crush lol, not gonna lie gangster Tae all nervous bc he like someone is something want to see (also imagine how much the guys would tease him uwu)

tumblr ate your ask when I tried to answer it, sorry! this is the only part I had copied, but if it ever resurfaces, I shall answer there. for now it is still refusing to cooperate so I am posting like this! (update: the ask just returned, it is here)

~pairing: taehyung x reader ~word count: 1.4k ~pre-relationship, fluff, angst, slice of life, mafia au, college au ~rating: g ~warnings: vague mention of gang activity, this is a gang au after all, but it’s not particularly prominent

~a/n: thank you for your great request! this was so nice to come back to, I am so sentimental about this series as my first bts fic🥰takes me back to when I was just getting into bts… it felt hard to do it justice! because of this, sorry it took me a while to write, but I wanted to do it well, and again I kept the theme of making my ‘drabbles’ wayyy longer😅final big thanks to the site being frustrating and eating drafts and such🙃🙃but here it is, finally seeing the light of day! I hope you enjoy it x

“I can tell something’s on your mind, Tae.”

Jimin stared coolly at his friend. Looking over his shoulder guiltily as he unlocked the door, Tae found the other boy with his hands in his pockets, looking expectant.

All Tae could do was shrug as he elbowed the door open, heading to ditch his bag.

“Hey, Jimin’s right.”

A light flick on Tae’s forehead made him startle, looking up to find Hobi grinning, though his head was tilted to one side in question.

“What is it?”

Jimin’s shoulder nudged his own as they sunk into the sofa.

Tae checked his phone.

“It’s just a project for class, don’t worry about it,” he pocketed his phone, ignoring their gazes, “I gotta meet with my partner in an hour.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t staying that long anyway,” Hobi slumped down too, having helped himself to a drink from the fridge, “I’m on watch with Yoongi across town.”

As the discussion turned to this week’s jobs and deals, Taehyung rested his head back against the sofa. The sounds of his friends’ conversation was like static. Instead, he was picturing the scene in class earlier, as the slideshow was flipped to show the project partners on the screen.

Tae hadn’t been too fussed, idly playing with his pen lid as he searched for his name. But when his eyes fell on it, he sat up straight.

Having only bumped into you a few times in class, he had never expected his heart to be hammering quite so hard as he quickly scanned the room for you. Sliding his things away, he had walked towards you as everyone began to file out, meeting you halfway as you did the same.

Leaning against a desk to keep his jittery hands occupied, he grinned at you.

Your returning smile, he noticed, was much more nervous, only flickering into existence for a wavering second. The two of you had only a brief conversation to sort out when you would meet, before you had practically scurried away.

His eyes had lingered on you as his smile slowly sank.

Unconsciously poking his tongue against his cheek, Tae wondered if you were afraid of him.

“Hey!”

A finger clicked sharply in front of his face. He blinked back at Hobi’s grin, Jimin bursting into laughter at his side.

“Just a project, my ass,” Hobi shook his head, dumping an empty bottle on the coffee table, “don’t wanna be late, do you?”

A radiant smile was tossed over his shoulder as Hobi left the room, front door clicking soon after.

Sending his best friend a knowing look, Jimin also gathered himself to stand.

“Have fun tonight, yeah?”

He winked. Tae protested, shooting up from the sofa with an affronted look.

“So it is a special someone?” Jimin giggled.

“You’re impossible,” Tae grumbled, trailing after him to the door, “it’s just a project, I told you.”

Jimin hummed in a way which made it very clear he didn’t believe him.

“Don’t scare them off, tiger,” he remarked, stepping outside.

Tae’s shoulders slumped. He was certain that was just what he had already done.

“I’m busy tonight. And my house isn’t free, so I can’t have anyone showing up here.”

Namjoon chuckled across the line.

“All this for a college project?” Clearly he had heard about this from the others. “If you could lend Kook some of your commitment to school, that would be great,” he teased.

Sighing, Tae spun around to survey the road outside his window, ruffling his own hair.

“You’re very funny, but I need to go. See you tomorrow.”

Tae was certain he would never hear the end of this from the others. It was true that he had firmly set aside time for your meeting today, even if it was only for a minor college presentation. But it was important to him.

He knew that this was the only time he would get together with you, and though it would end as soon as the presentation was given, he couldn’t help but want to make the most of it. At your last meeting, he had been largely distracted by the dizzying height of your apartment, leaving him shying back from any windows.

So this left you with his house today instead.

Arriving soon after Tae’s phone call, you were both soon seated on his floor. Though you mostly worked in quiet with occasional, quick conversation, it was not awkward. Your legs lay close together under the coffee table as you scribbled away diligently on its surface.

Glancing over the lid of his laptop as his fingers hung idly, Tae sighed. Watching as your pen swirled across your notebook, he let his eyes drift across your focussed features.

He swallowed as he did so, teeth tugging his lip. A light frown came over your features. He couldn’t take his eyes away from your lips as your pen lifted to your mouth, resting between your teeth as you mulled the work over, eyes flitting about the page.

Eventually, the lack of tapping at his keyboard must have got through to you. You raised your head.

Too late to divert his gaze, Taehyung cleared his throat and muttered a proposal for a break. Eager as well to put your work aside, you clambered from the floor to join him at his offer of a drink.

Moving through to the kitchen, he made casual conversation, asking after your dad. Last time there had only been a brief meeting, as he met Tae at the door before you hurried him away.

Picking up on his offer to chat, you teased Tae for his fear of heights, giggling over how he had screwed his eyes shut whenever he had come within sight of the view from your windows.

Of course, Tae tried his best to roll his eyes at you, but the smile dragging the corners of his mouth refused to be suppressed.

He poured your drinks. When he turned away to put the cartons back in the fridge, he took a breath, trying to settle himself. Why did he feel so flustered?

Squaring his shoulders a little more, he turned back, only for his hand to catch one of the glasses. It clattered against the surface, barely leaving time for him to jump back and avoid being splattered with its contents.

You hopped from your seat, ready to help.

Swallowing down his shock, Tae scratched at the back of his neck to hide his slightly trembling hand.

“Don’t worry,” he quickly muttered, flashing a nervous smile as he gathered towels and set to cleaning up.

Soft laughter followed from you. Still, you reached across to help.

Righting the glass and taking one of the cloths to clear up, your hand came concerningly close to Tae’s own. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the countertop, his cheeks warm even as you finished and he was rooting in the fridge again for a refill.

You seemed miraculously unfazed by his flailing, though, he noticed as you finally settled beside each other sipping your drinks.

“So it went well?”

Jimin nudged a reluctant Tae, eyebrows wiggling all the time.

“Yes, fine,” Tae groaned, trying to shrug him off.

Jimin did stop, but only in favour of staring at his friend with doleful eyes.

“Don’t be like that. You’ll see her again. You literally share a class!”

“It’s nothing like that,” Tae refuted.

He even halfway believed it.

You had got on well together, but surely not more than could be expected of most classmates? He sighed a little as he thought of it. It had been fun, but there was no excuse to spend any more time with you.

Besides, sparing one night to work on a project was a little different to becoming friends, or even more…

There was a reason the bangtan boys stuck to themselves.

But as he reminisced, he knew he had a soft spot for you, even if it should come to nothing. The project was over, the presentation given, but he still remembered the way you bounced with excited relief after you had finished talking to the class. Your face was glowing as you high-fived him with a grin, the work having paid off.

There was still a hint of nervousness though, and you had only given a timid smile and a small ‘see you later’ before heading out of class.

And that was the end of it.

But Tae smiled to himself. It had been fun, and he knew he wouldn’t be sorry if you ever crossed paths again.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments super appreciated always!!

Taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ @un2-verse​ @ddaechwita​ @taegularities​ 

#thebtswritersclub #taehyung x reader #taehyung mafia au #bts mafia au #taehyung imagine #kim taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #btscreatorscorner #bangtanarmynet #purplearmynet #vantaenet #taehyung fluff #taehyung college au #bts college au #mafia bts #bad boy bts #bad boy taehyung

[xenospacebabe]

Broken Wings pt. 3

Summary: After breaking one of his wings, Hawks breaks into an animal clinic for some help. Little does he know that the doctor there would occupy his mind this much

TW: Mentions of animal death.

Another busy week that seemed to endlessly drag on was coming to a close. There was a spike in Parvovirus cases in the last few days that had you hospitalizing as well as euthanizing beloved pets. You loved your job, but sometimes it really took a lot out of you. There were times where you lost more patients than you saved and it left you wondering if you were even good at what you do. However, there were the times where miracle patients made an unprecedented recovery. Those were the moments that kept you coming back.

The stress mounted on your shoulders, though. You had three dogs in isolation that were struggling to survive, so much so that you did your best to not promise anything to their owners. For now, they were resting in the silence of your closed clinic. You leaned back in your chair and let your head hang until you stared blankly at the ceiling. The muscles in your lower back burned and ached from standing and kneeling all day. Did you eat lunch today? Did you ever use the bathroom?

“Y’know I was really hoping you’d text me back this week, Doc.”

“WAH!” The sound of Keigo’s voice breaking through the fragile silence sent you backwards in your chair with a frightened shriek. But before you could hit the floor, you were looking up into Keigo’s eyes as he had rushed over to catch you. His good wing caught your chair while his hand cradled the back of your head.

“Woah easy there. I knew you’d fall for me but I didn’t think you’d do it literally.”

“Keigo! Oh shit, you scared me!” The winged hero looked so smug as he held you there. You were incredibly aware of just how close his face was to yours and you felt your stomach flip as a result. That stupid grin cracked on his lips, a wild eyebrow arching confidently.

“P-please help me up.” The shakiness in your voice was louder than you’d like it to be. But he brought you upright, nonetheless, in a smooth motion before sitting on your desk. “Thank you...”

“Hey it’s what heroes do, am I right? So-...” He reached forward with a gloved hand to fidget with the ends of your ponytail between his fingers. “What’s up? You seem more stressed than usual.”

Than usual? How would he know how stressed you are on a daily basis? You’d only seen each other twice, three times including today. What you didn’t know was that Keigo had a lot of time to fill while he allowed his wing to recover. Most of it was spent catching up on paperwork he had neglected back at headquarters. The rest of the time? He was watching you from afar. This strange instinct to keep an eye on you was out of character for him, he never paid this much attention to anyone who wasn’t a target for a mission.

But you...

Choosing to ignore that last statement, you let out a weary sigh. The tension in your shoulders relaxed and they slumped. Keigo observed you, choosing to stay quiet until you responded.

“It’s just...been a rough week. This business-...I don’t always get to save everyone and it was just a little more than I could handle this week.”

Something about that struck a chord in the depths of his heart. He knew about that reality all too well. Sometimes not everyone made it out alive, regardless of how hard he tried. And remarkably, you understood that. There wasn’t much he could say that would make you feel any better other than just a hum in his throat.

“Mmh...I get it. That’s a really heavy burden to carry.” The hand that played with your hair slipped out of its glove and rested on your shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze. You felt your anxiety dissolve a little when he smiled at you.

“Anyway...that’s why I didn’t text you. I just didn’t have the moment to spare. I haven’t really left the clinic for more than a couple hours each day.” You let out an exhausted yawn behind your hand. Keigo noticed the way your nose scrunched up when you did so, and the cute squeak your throat made.

“Mmh my goodness, sorry. How’s the wing?” Back on track. He admired your tenacity and dedication to your work. Arms slipped out of his jacket followed by his uniform shirt. The redness returned to your features and you chewed your bottom lip nervously before regaining focus. It shouldn’t be this hard to look at a shirtless man. You’re an adult, get over yourself! But then again...you reminded yourself that there were no men like Keigo.

“Not too bad. The pain killers have helped but I didn’t wanna take them too long.” The splinted wing lifted and tried to flex. There was a tightness in the limb that was driving him crazy. And boy was it itchy. You noticed and began to remove the tape and gauze so you could feel the bone with your fingers.

To your surprise, Keigo didn’t flinch. In fact, you didn’t feel much of the break anymore. That was odd. One hand gently grasped the far side of his wing and slowly flexed it open. Once more, no pain response. You let go and told him to open and close it, which he did with a little strain but after a few tries it opened and closed in a smooth motion.

“How the-...this was a completely transverse fracture two weeks ago.” You muttered to yourself, truly confused but intrigued. Without thinking, you snagged Keigo by the wrist and yanked him into the radiology suite for immediate xrays.

“Woah hey! What?! What’s wrong?”

“On the table. Flex the wing. Hold still.” You were in like a trance, transfixed on getting answers. He did as you instructed without his usual teasing banter, the less he said the quicker you’d speak to him. You said nothing throughout the process, even after the images printed and were clipped to the lightbox.

“How?!” You gasped with your eyes trained on the image of Keigo’s healed wing. There wasn’t even the typical crease that came with the fusion of broken bones after they healed. You felt stupefied just gawking at his xrays.

“What?!” He practically shrieked, you were making him nervous by not explaining as quick as you usually did.

“It’s healed. I don’t-...did you know you could heal this quickly?” Keigo had the audacity to look embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly with a dumb smile on his handsome face.

“Ah yeah, I guess I did. But I dunno, I just figured I needed an excuse to keep seeing you.” Once again you found yourself in close proximity to the winged hero, too close, in fact. Being this close made it suddenly dawn on you that now he didn’t need to come back anymore. He was healed and had no reason to sneak into your cute little clinic after hours.

Keigo could see the realization on your face, your expressions were incredibly loud in spite of you not having said a single word. You’d only seen each other twice before today but even he could tell there was something there.

“Hey, why don’t you take a short break and come on a test flight with me, there’s something I wanna show you.”

“What now? Keigo I-..” His back was already retreating back to your office to put his shirt and coat back on. When he returned, he held your hoodie out that was on the back of your office door. You looked at the clock, your overnight tech would be here soon to look after the hospitalized patients. Maybe you could afford to slip out for just a little while.

“Come on. You won’t let me pay you with money, so let me thank you my way.”

There really was no arguing with Keigo, he was too headstrong. So you reached for your hoodie, only for him to yank it back. Instead, he held it open for you to slide your arms into. You were trying so hard not to swoon.

“Alright...let’s go.”

A/N: I’m really glad you guys are liking this drabble. I’m thinking of making it into a fanfiction of sorts, maybe. With some conflict and maybe a lil romance. Let me know what you think! I love feedback!

#keigo x reader #keigo takami #hawks x reader #hawks #winged hero hawks #hawks drabble #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero #my hero academia drabble #boku no hero drabble #writing

[nalu-love-4-life]

Dragon Swan Song

Author’s Note:

It’s been a very long time since I wrote a drabble on Tumblr for NaLu. But I have had an itch lately to write something for them, because I haven’t written anything passionately in a very long time, and what could be more fun to jump back into writing than to write about my OTP?

I hope you all enjoy this short NaLu drabble where Natsu is a knight assigned to protect the princess, Lucy!

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The skirt of my dress flowed freely around my ankles as I paced back and forth from the end of my bed to the chamber doors. A feeling of impending dread was steadily building in my stomach and each time I stopped to take a breath the anxious knots only seemed to pull tighter. The late morning sunlight streaming in from the balcony created patches of heat on the cool stone floor. While the warmth on my skin brought brief comfort, my thoughts were still troubled and they swirled in my head, going ‘round and around, making me dizzy. My pacing stopped only when I heard a low rapping on the doors behind me.

“Excuse me, Princess. I’m coming in,” a husky voice called.

I swiveled around and straightened my back, and hastily tucked a couple loose strands of hair - which had fallen over my face - behind my ear. After clasping my hands together with a firm grip, I answered, “C-come in!” There was a momentary pause before the doors opened and a familiar mess of pink hair peaked into view.

Natsu, I thought with a soft sigh. I could already feel my worries sliding off from my shoulders. As he stepped into the room, I could see his firm build. He stood almost a foot taller than me and his skin was tanned from spending long days training in the sun.

“Princess Lucy, is everything alright?” He asked. “I could hear your footsteps from the other side of the doors. Is there something on your mind?” His voice was deep and sincere, but the formality of his speech felt strange.

“Y-yes! Everything is fine, really. No need to worry. I’m just overthinking some plans that my father had proposed to me this past evening.” I did my best to brush his concern away with a smile and a curt wave of my hand, but the crease between his eyebrows remained and his lips did not move from the slight frown they were set in.

“Hmm,” he hummed aloud. “Well, though I believe you’re telling me the truth, I cannot take your words at mere face value.”

“Huh?” I questioned.

“You don’t look like you’re in full health, Princess. So I will do my own inspection to make sure you are feeling well,” he said in a raised voice while peering down the long hallway. I waited with anticipation as Natsu quietly shut the wooden doors. He paused, and I watched his shoulders rise and fall as he slowly breathed in and out. When he turned around and looked at me I could see the glimmer of mischief dancing in his onyx eyes.

“Natsu,” I said. “What are you doing? It’s the middle of the day. We could be caught!”

He smirked, briefly flashing his sharp canines. A jolt rippled down my spine and my heart beat faster in my chest.

“We’ll be fine, Luce,” he said. Natsu took a couple steps closer to me. He had a confident air about him. “Anyone who was around thinks I’m simply checking on the princess to make sure she’s feeling well. Nothing wrong with that, right?” He raised his eyebrows and the devilish flare grew in his eyes. My knees wobbled underneath the intensity of his stare. As he entered further into the room, the sunlight illuminated the details of his face. I couldn’t help myself from studying him.

The old scar that ran down his right cheek stopped at his jawline, and another stretched across the right side of his neck. The rough skin healed a bit darker than his normal shade, which only made them appear more prominent. His cheeks were dusted a soft rose giving him a healthy and youthful likeness. Light freckles speckled the bridge of his nose and under his eyes, but if you weren’t looking close enough you wouldn’t think he had any at all. There was a bit of dirt on his forehead and his hair was in mild disarray, so he had probably been training in the courtyard or tending to the horses in the stables earlier. My eyes continued to scan over his face. I didn’t want to miss a thing.

“Like what you see?”

“Huh?!” Startled, my concentration broke and our eyes locked.

Natsu chuckled and closed the little distance that was left between us. His smile was warm. “You’re cute when you get lost in thought,” he muttered bringing his right hand to rest on my cheek. It was as if there was fire in his fingertips. His touch was gentle, but every one set my skin ablaze. I could feel the rough callouses on his palm that had formed from years of hard work wielding his sword and perfecting his skills.

“Don’t tease me like that,” I pouted. My hair fell loose around my shoulders as I turned my head to the side.

“Aw, come on, Luce. I was being serious,” he whined, but the slight twitch at the corners of his mouth gave away his amusement. A gasp escaped my lips as I felt two strong arms circle around my waist and pull me forward. Our bodies pressed together and the palms of my hands rested on his chest. All I could think about was how firm and strong it felt.

“Natsu th-this is embarrassi-!”

“You really are beautiful, Princess,” he murmured. His voice was low and tender and every word sounded so sincere. I really admired that about him. Though sometimes he could be honest to a fault, it was just another one of his many charms.

He used his hand that was on my cheek to brush the hair from my face and place it back behind my ear. “There they are,” he said. “Hey, Doe Eyes.” A quiet chuckle rumbled in his throat.

“Hi,” I whispered almost breathless. Natsu smelled like warm linen and earth, with a hint of something sweet, like honey or vanilla. I wished that I could bottle that scent so I could revisit it whenever, but did my best to focus so I could at least commit it to memory. His dark eyes held me as a willing captive and I couldn’t tear myself away. As frustrating as his teasing could be at times, I was never more at ease than when I was enveloped in his embrace. Whenever it seemed like everything was turning upside down and I felt as if I could float away at any given moment, I could always count on him to tether me and bring me safely back to solid ground.

His face relaxed as he scanned over me. “Now,” Natsu said clearing his throat. “Are you gonna tell me why you were pacing so much? Your footsteps were so loud, I bet everyone in the castle thought an ogre was stomping around in here.” Natsu’s eyebrows lifted and his lips puckered ever-so slightly. I could tell he was holding in laughter.

“How dare you!” I huffed and pushed against his chest so that he would relinquish his hold on me. “And just when I thought you were being genuinely sweet for once.” I crossed my arms over my chest and marched onto the balcony.

There was a cool spring breeze and the sky was bright blue with thin white clouds floating lazily overhead. I positioned myself so that my arms rested against the thick metal railing that overlooked the castle garden. All of the flowers were in full bloom and their many scents mixed in a harmonious melody which filled the air and swirled around me. I took a deep breath in to fully appreciate the wonderful aroma. As my muscles began to relax the sound of heavy boots came closer to my turned back.

Natsu stood quietly beside me with his back leaned against the railing. He craned his neck to the side and looked across the castle grounds. “You always did enjoy the garden, didn’t you?” He asked, although it seemed like it was more of a statement to himself. “Even when we were kids, if you were ever upset you’d always go someplace where you could see the flowers.”

I glanced at him from the side. “Of course I like the garden,” I sighed. “The flowers are pretty, it’s always quiet, and I can lose myself walking around in it. I can pretend like I don’t have a care in the world—like I can do whatever I want—be whoever I want—love whoever I-” I stopped myself and turned to look at Natsu. He was smiling at me, but it was small and there was sadness underneath. Natsu shifted his eyes away from me and turned around so that he faced the garden. His broad shoulders slumped forward and his weight pressed down on his forearms that he’d rested on the railing.

“Do you remember that day?” He asked. “When we met?” I ran my eyes over his face, trying to discern what he might be thinking. “You were picking daisies in the far corner of the garden to make a makeshift crown, and I was running from Makorov ‘cuz I accidentally tore a hole right through his trousers with my sword.”

“As I recall, you caused that tear because you were sparring with Gray again over who was going to get to eat the last slice of Miss Mira’s strawberry shortcake that she’d baked earlier that day,” I mocked. “But then Erza knocked your heads together, claimed it for herself, and ate it right in front of you! So neither you nor Gray got any cake and you were both punished for fighting—no sweets for a whole month!” I raised my hand to cover my mouth as I laughed.

“Y-yeah… Erza’s scary,” Natsu muttered.

I stood with my hands on my hips and gave a disapproving stare. “I haven’t forgotten how you ran straight into me and crushed all of my daisies before I could make that crown, by the way,” I said. “And you caused me to fall face first into the dirt and ruin the new dress Father had gotten for me, too,” I huffed. Natsu grimaced and rubbed the back of his head, ruffling his hair.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” he said. “I remember getting an earful about that too.”

I scoffed in mild amusement. “It’s fine. To be quite honest, Father always ordered the most stuffy dresses back then, anyway, and the one you ruined was particularly stifling to wear,” I said. “Especially when I was out in the garden.”

“Well, I wish you had said something back then before Erza chewed me out for that in between mouthfuls of cake,” Natsu laughed.

“Why would I when it’s so amusing to see how you and Gray shake like puppies when she scolds you?” He pretended to pout at my taunting which only made me laugh more. “Miss Erza’s not so terrible, you know,” I said gaining my composure.

“You only think that because you’ve never had to fight her. After one training session I can barely move for days whenever she’s put in charge of combat practice. She’s merciless!” He whined.

I giggled and Natsu turned his head so he could look at me. His eyes were serious when they met mine. Something about his steady gaze threw my stomach for a whirl. “W-what is it?” I asked.

Natsu shifted his weight and stood tall. His stature blocked the sun and cast a shadow over me. To someone else, he might seem scary using his full height to his advantage like this. But to me, he was no more threatening than a dragonfly.

“Lucy,” he said. His voice came off stern but his eyes were almost pleading. “Tell me why you’ve been so stressed lately. I won’t continue to pretend like I haven’t noticed.” Natsu took my hand in his. I could feel his thumb tracing gentle circles over the tops of my fingers. Unlike before, he kept a respectable distance between us and was careful to hide our clasped hands behind the railing.

We couldn’t risk the groundskeepers or any other castle attendant seeing us, and the balcony was a very public spot. Any affectionate display witnessed by the wrong person was sure to circulate through the castle grapevine, and there would surely be repercussions to face. I knew this, of course, but I still felt my heart longing.

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Author’s End Note:

I hope you all enjoyed this first installation of this NaLu drabble as much as I enjoyed writing it! Sorry to leave you all on a bit of a cliffhanger there but it was getting much longer than originally intended haha Should I continue it and make it a real story? If you want more please like, comment, and/or DM me and let me know what you think! And make sure to follow me on here on tumblr for any updates on this story and so you don’t miss any other Fairy Tail NaLu drabbles or fanfic posts/art or story reblogs!

❤️ nalu-love-4-life

#fairy tail #angst #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #romance #fanfiction #love #princess #knight #adventure #fluff #drabble #writing #story #sad #heartbreak #anime #nalu-love-4-life

[cinnaminsvga]

🤬 | seokjin

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ frenemy!seokjin ft. e2l and the magnificent get-along sweater | 2K words → a/n: this is dedicated to my homie @jincherie​ who has been, as they say, wiping her ass everyday only to shit again. i can’t really do much to actually alleviate your circumstances except maybe making you smile, so i hope this can be your tiny ray of sunshine amidst the crap. this fic literally makes no sense because i wrote this within one hour so i’m sorry but pls know that ilysm!!

“Where’d you even fucking get this abomination?” you growl, struggling fruitlessly against the coarse fabric. In your fidgeting, your elbow knocks into Seokjin’s broad chest, causing more damage to your weak joints than anything. Even so, Seokjin grunts overdramatically, stepping on your toes in retaliation.

“Yoongi-chi, you know that I love you very much—” Seokjin seethes, his teeth clenched almost painfully as he fights to restrain himself from ripping the sweater in half, a la Hulk style. “—but I will not hesitate to stab you once I get out of here.”

“Not my fault that you both are acting like a bunch of toddlers,” Yoongi snorts, hip jutted out in contempt like the homosexual that he is. “And to answer your other question, I bought that sweater online after your last fight, when you two were literally wrestling on the kitchen counter. I didn’t know whether I walked into some intense BDSM play or a WWE ring.”

“You bought a fucking get-along sweater for us? What are you, some sort of Christian camp counselor?” you growl, kicking your legs out in an attempt to hit him. The slimy twink bastard jumps away gracefully, landing onto the loveseat opposite the couch that you were sitting on. He crosses his legs, opening his arms wide when your traitorous cat jumps onto his lap, looking to all the world like a terrible Bond villain from the 80s.

“If I was Christian, I would not put the two of you into a sweater together,” Yoongi says. He strokes your cat, who purrs loudly before pointing a contemptuous glare back at you, as if she was enjoying your torture too. Dumb cat. You never liked Miko anyway.

Yoongi continues, “Anyone would two eyes knows that you both are just one brawl away from fucking each other into the next dimension. Lord knows that your sexual tension could power the entire city.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to snort, who has been relatively quiet in comparison to you. He’s also less fidgety, but that might be because he at least has the advantage and comfort of occupying 90% of the sweater space due to his oceanic shoulders. You once described him as “horizontally imbalanced,” which he did not find slightly amusing.

“I would rather place my balls into a panini press and feed them to Miko than to ever fuck Y/N,” Seokjin fake-gags, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. “It would be less hot for me to actually grill my penis than for me to sink into her hell-ish cunt. I swear, you could bake bread in there with how much yeast has accumulated from—“

You headbutt his chin before he can finish, squawking indignantly. The satisfying sound of his teeth clacking together in pain is momentary but worthwhile. “Excuse you, but it’d be an honor to fuck me! I’ve got that S-tier pussy! If my pussy was in a gacha game, people would spend thousands of dollars just to roll for my mystical coochie!”

Yoongi smirks. “So you admit that you do want Seokjin to fuck you!”

“What the fuck! No! That is—what the—I don’t!” You stammer, face flushing as you struggle to regain your footing in the conversation. Yoongi’s eyebrow raises, intrigued by your slip-up. “That is totally not what I meant, and you know it!”

Yoongi picks at his nails, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, I don’t speak hetero. Prithee, explain thy peculiar mating rituals to one who does not walk the straight and narrow path.”

You slump back against the couch, forcing Seokjin to follow and fall backward with you. His shoulder hits you square in the boob, causing you to groan in pain. “Yoongi, just let us out of this thing before I lose a limb to this walking inflatable tubeman,” you plead, ignoring Seokjin’s glare.

“I resent that,” Seokjin inputs, but no one pays him any mind. Your attention is focused solely on the smirking kitty man in front of you, who grows smugger as time ticks on.

Everyone in your friend group is aware of the weird relationship you have with Seokjin. Ever since you met him in your freshman year of university, things were never peaceful between the two of you. It was always constant bickering, squabbling, competing… everything. Even Jungkook, Seokjin’s other sworn enemy, doesn’t argue with the elder as much as you did.

For three years, everyone just assumed it was your weird kindergarten schoolyard way of showing affection for each other, and at the beginning, it might have been. You and Seokjin, both of whom have never dated in their lifetimes despite being moderately popular while growing up, are unsurprisingly emotionally stunted and never learned how to just be nice to people you like. Affection who? Compassion where? To the both of you, physical connection can only be achieved through hair tugging and nipple pinching, and not even in the sexy way.

But at a certain point, things were starting to get tiring. Your arguments only grew larger in scale, to the point where it was getting hard to differentiate whether the bruises on your neck were from pinches or something else.

“I just… Ugh… When are they gonna fuck, hyung? I’m actually getting tired of their constant fighting,” Namjoon had lamented one afternoon, just a day after your last altercation with Seokjin. It had been a big one, where Seokjin nearly lost a tooth when you had landed a neat uppercut squarely on his jaw after he called your toes ‘a foot fetishist’s worst nightmare.’

Yoongi’s boyfriend had been staring listlessly into his bowl of soup for the past hour, and he was honestly starting to get worried when it looked like Namjoon had started muttering to himself in a foreign language. Yoongi almost thought he might have been scrying for a prophecy, begging for an answer to their most pressing question.

“What do you want me to do about it? Lock them in a room and let them out only after they’ve done the deed? Mixed bodily fluids? Performed the monkey dance to its climax?! No thanks, I don’t wanna be near them when that can of worms finally explodes,” Yoongi grimaced, shivering at the thought.

Namjoon shook his head quickly, face paling with him. “Heaven forbid. Maybe you can keep it PG? How about getting one of those get-along sweaters or something. I think they used those in kindergarten.”

Yoongi sighed. “Yeah, but the question would be how I’d get them into it.” He flaps his noodle arms around in demonstration. “I’m not exactly in the running for world’s strongest twink. Plus, years of fighting each other means they’re both stronger than I am.”

Namjoon shrugged. “Easy, just dare them to wear it. Make it into a competition. Nothing gets them more riled up than when they’re trying to outcompete each other.”

And so, that’s how the two of you had gotten stuck in a 3XXL Hello Kitty sweater that Yoongi had bought from Ebay. It has yet to be decided whether spending $40 on expedited shipping was worth it.

“Look, Yoongi-chi. We both promise that we will stop fighting once you let us out of this,” Seokjin says, smiling sweetly at him. Had Yoongi been younger and much more prone to the alluring temptation of the Straight Man™️, he might have caved. But Yoongi is older now, plus he knows when Seokjin is lying better than any polygraph test.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, waving him off. “Fat chance. You’d probably stop fighting for approximately three hours before getting mad about mint chocolate ice cream or something.”

“Hey! Give us some credit. We both agree that flavor is abhorrent, so we would never argue about that,” you retort, with Seokjin nodding furiously in agreement. You glance at him. “And I feel like we’d last at least six hours without fighting. What was our record again?”

“Five hours and twenty-two minutes,” Seokjin says.

You hum thoughtfully. “Okay, I can promise at least five hours and thirty minutes. Maybe.”

Yoongi groans, rubbing his temples in frustration. His souring mood even makes Miko jump away in fright, and the two idiots trapped in a sweater can immediately feel the dip in temperature. Uh oh, here we go!

“I am absolutely sick and tired of the two of you dumbasses fighting all the time! It’s embarrassing as hell trying to bring either of you anywhere in public because everyone mistakes your little catfights for strange foreplay or whatever,” Yoongi glowers. The two of you shrink into your seats, ashamed.

“We’ve only gotten kicked out of one Costco—” Seokjin defends. 

“But we did get fined for public indecency at the beach when I pulled your trunks down, which was totally unfair, by the way,” you mutter. 

“You literally threatened to, and I quote, ‘Suck the soul out of Seokjin’s dick until he dies.’ How the hell is that unfair?!” Yoongi exclaims. 

“It was a death threat! I would’ve accepted a charge for attempted murder, but that was not going to be a sexy blowjob, I assure you—”

Yoongi holds up a hand to silence you. “Face it, you both like each other. Whatever! Sure, you guys are the token straight people in our friend group, but that doesn’t make you bland as hell! Well, actually, it does but…” Yoongi pauses, wondering if it was worth lying. It takes a second for him to refocus. “Where was I? Oh right—“

Yoongi clears his throat, starting again. He heaves a deep breath, shoulders sagging tiredly as he puts on the sincerest face he can muster. “Listen, I just want to say that I care a lot about you, okay? And it sucks seeing the both of you hurting every time the other person says something really mean that neither of you even mean! If anything, will you please stop for me? If you really cared about our friendship, will you do it for me?”

There is a heavy pause as Yoongi strives to get his breathing back in check, his impassioned speech causing his fragile grandpa heart to race. He can feel his cheeks darkening in embarrassment, unused to using his “hyung voice” on Seokjin or you. Separately, the two of you are very reliable, never really needing him to scold either of you. Together, however… that’s a different story, but as the next eldest hyung, it really only fell to Yoongi to fix his friends’ mess of a relationship.

Screw age hierarchy. Yoongi would love to see Jungkook try to get Seokjin and you to fuck. Would absolutely pay to see the twerp squirm as he tries to even say the word “penis.”

After a while, Seokjin and you share a look. Yoongi watches with bated breath as he waits for either of you to speak, but he can sense some unspoken conversation happening between you. Perhaps, after years of exchanging blows, you had somehow knocked brain cells into each other and now share a weird psychic connection. Or, more likely, the two of you actually like each other and understand each other on a deeply personal level, so personal in fact that you could probably finish each other’s sentences, like—!

“We refuse,” you both reply in tandem, your joined voices echoing throughout the apartment. You both had said it so in sync that Yoongi might have imagined the other person speaking, but no—you both really did just say that to his face. In front of Miko. In front of his goddamn imaginary salad.

“Excuse me?” Yoongi squeaks. He cleans his ears with his fingers but finds no cotton there. These bitches! How dare they just throw his speech to the gutter! That shit took brain cells to think of, and he is not in the business of wasting his precious minutes by using them for productivity.

You shrug, leaning against Seokjin’s shoulder. He can see the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s confusion. “You heard us. We’ve made the executive decision to double our efforts, actually.”

Seokjin nods, not even shoving you off his shoulder like he normally would whenever you made contact with him. What? “Exactly. Honestly, we’ve been fighting for so long that we’ve kinda been just doing it for the bit at this point, and the fact that it annoys you so much is just the icing on the cake.”

Yoongi stares at them. His brain doesn’t feel like it’s connecting to his body at all; he feels like he’s floating. “So. What you’re saying is—“

“We know we like each other. Whatever. But we also like fighting, so who gives a shit if we’re having fun at the end of the day?” you shrug, pinching Seokjin’s cheek for good measure. As per usual, the elder retaliates by grabbing your finger with robot-like accuracy, before biting you there like a ravaging beast.

“And before you ask, no, we aren’t really dating. Yet. We kinda just wanted to piss as many people off before actually becoming official. We honestly didn’t think that you’d be the first one to crack.” Seokjin says, your finger falling from his mouth. The imprint of his teeth marks on your skin are plain as day, but you don’t look remotely bothered by it. In fact, you’re practically cooing at his ‘baby teefies’ like a psychopath.

“I—“ Yoongi stutters, at a loss for words for once in his life. He stands from the chair, but his knees give out from under him, causing him to tumble to the carpeted floor. He holds his head in his hands, shell-shocked. “So… That means…”

“Yeah, we’re kinda just freaky, I guess.” You muse before laughing hysterically when Yoongi begins to sob. “Hey, you’re right! We did make Yoongi cry! Do you think we could make Namjoon piss himself in rage when he finally confronts us too?”

Seokjin cackles, shaking your hand underneath the sweater. “If anyone can do it, I know that we can.”

And so, the two of you stand up clumsily to your feet, not bothering to escape the ridiculous sweater as you both waddled out of Yoongi’s apartment. From outside his door, Yoongi hears the sound of a new fight commencing, your shrieks resonating down the hall and for all the world to hear.

#btsghostie #bts scenarios #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts humor #e2l #kim seokjin #seokjin scenarios #jin scenarios #bangtan #bts fanfic #the sleep deprived series

[alj4890]

Good evening! I’m have an ask? We know during the social season in book one after the regatta there’s a beach party. What if we get Liams POV when he see Riley and Drake putting each other sunscreen then they go for a swim.

A/N Hmmm. Very interesting. I would love to have seen Liam's response to that. I always hated that forced choice of either Hana or Drake if you are playing the book with Liam as the LI. Why couldn’t we choose no one or Maxwell😉 Of course, this could be my own reaction of not wanting anyone other than the one I'm interested in touching me 😂 But let's see what I can do with a drabble for Liam and this situation.

@gkittylove99 @darley1101 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight

Masterlist

Burning

Liam tugged at his collar. The light burgundy sweater had been comfortable during the regatta, but now it felt like it was nearly suffocating him. The sun seemed to beat down upon him as his eyes once more settled on a certain lady.

Perhaps it wasn't the sun that had caused him to burn.

He had to remind himself numerous times that he must to be the well behaved crown prince. That meant that he had to spend time with each suitor, especially after today's bombshell of an announcement.

Why didn't Father warn me he was stepping down as king?

Liam began to scan the crowd on the beach, hoping to find his secretive parent. Feeling frustrated, he remembered that one of the medications Constantine was taking warned about being in direct sunlight. After spending the early morning at the regatta, he would have had to go inside and miss this private event.

Regina gently squeezed his arm when she noticed he was not paying attention.

"Liam, dear?" She nudged. "Madeleine wishes to know if you prefer these type of appetizers or something else."

"I want to make certain that when you next visit Fydelia that your every comfort is met." Madeleine added with a well practiced smile.

"How thoughtful." He muttered, once more watching with envy as Drake drew Riley, Hana, and Maxwell over to Liam's surprise . "I believe I would prefer something other than this. I enjoy seafood, yet not necessarily some of the more adventurous cuisines."

Seeing Riley's delight in the different offerings of American barbeque made his heart ache with longing. He wished he was the one she was expressing her happiness to instead of his friend.

He felt his heart stutter when he noticed her searching the crowd. Her eyes finally found her prince and she leveled her smile on him.

Thank you, she mouthed.

He smiled at her. He stepped back, deciding to give in to his need to join her. Before he could utter the words to excuse himself, his arm was captured by Kiara.

"My prince," she said softly. "I was hoping you would join me at my table."

"Thank you for the offer, my lady." His shoulders slumped somewhat. Summoning his court smile once more, he allowed her to pull him in the opposite direction of Riley's. "I would be delighted to sit with you."

Throughout the meal, he managed to give the appropriate responses to the other suitors that joined him and Kiara. His attention though remained on Riley. Every laugh, smile, and movement she made held him enthralled.

He also couldn't help but notice how thrilled two of his oldest friends were spending time with his lady.

A slight frown firmed on his lips when he noticed Drake sitting unnecessarily close to Riley.

Liam had never considered himself a jealous man. He had not held envy over Leo being the heir to the throne. He had accepted his lot in life as one being in support of his family and country. The women he had occasionally been interested in never resulted in a possessive sort of love.

But since meeting Riley, he realized he wasn't above such emotions. He didn't believe he owned her or her heart, yet...he so desperately wanted her love for his own. He was glad those he cared for were growing closer to her. Nothing made him happier than seeing their joy along with hers.

But, there was a fine line between friendship and something more.

And if Liam had to go by appearances alone, it seemed that Drake was crossing that particular line.

Tuning out the buzz of female voices surrounding him, his eyes narrowed when Drake began to get undressed.

Hana followed suit all while encouraging Riley to join them for a swim. Maxwell good naturedly told them he needed to recover from gorging on so much barbeque as he flopped down on a beach towel, keeping his secret tattoo hidden under his black shirt.

And then the bottle of sunblock appeared.

Riley removed her swimsuit cover, revealing a body only he had seen at Olivia's mere days ago. Liam felt heat that had nothing to do with the sun rise up his neck and ears as his eyes traced her curves.

Then the burning consumed him.

The lady he had lost his heart to began to rub sunblock on Drake's shoulders and back. Those same hands had tangled in Liam's hair with every secretive kiss.

He noticed that his friend wasn't really grumbling about the attention he was receiving.

And then they switched places.

Liam wondered if it was his imagination that Drake's hands seemed to hover before touching Riley's skin. There was a slight tremble to his fingers as he rubbed the lotion into her lower back.

Just when Liam thought that he would lose what surprisingly little control he had on his unexpected temper, the three ran into the water. Their laughter could be beard from where he sat, trapped, as they splashed each other before challenges to race were issued.

"Prince Liam?"

He mentally shook himself as he looked up into the pouty face of Penelope.

She gestured toward a shaded area. "Would you like to sit over there with me for a change?"

He grit his teeth at once more having to postpone joining Riley.

"Of course, Lady Penelope. I know we haven't had much of a chance to talk these last few days." Liam followed her to a set of chairs under a beach umbrella.

While Penelope hemmed and stuttered to try to find things to talk about, he focused once more on Drake and Riley swimming.

They were nearly neck and neck as they neared Hana. Riley's triumphant whoop brought a smile to his face. He wished he could hear her teasing as Drake rolled his eyes.

He felt a deep sense of relief not only with Penelope leaving his side for something to eat but in seeing Riley and Drake part ways. Some more nobles approached him, keeping him once more from finding a moment alone.

A stray thought began to worm its way into his mind.

What if all Riley remembered about this day was her time spent with Drake

He had helped her win the sailboat race. He had been the one to produce the barbeque. He had touched her skin, played in the water, and made her laugh.

Liam knew he needed to do something, something romantic to leave his own mark on Riley's memory.

He then remembered the waterfall.

With his heart beating in anticipation, he retrieved a glass of lemonade for her and intercepted her return to Maxwell's side.

"Liam!" Her smile grew warm as she looked up at him. "I was wondering if we would get to spend any time together today."

If she only knew how he was beginning to think of every event they had to attend. She had become the prize Liam worked so hard to achieve. He knew he had to do what was expected with the other suitors just so he could not feel any sort of guilt over spending the remaining time in her company. Every moment with Riley felt like he had won the lottery, Olympics, and the Tour de France all rolled into one.

When Liam offered to take her somewhere private, just for the two of them, he once again felt the jolt of happiness when her hand slipped into his.

"I would love to." She replied.

And with that, Liam set out to show her once again how much she meant to him.

#liam x riley #choices the royal romance #choices the stories you play #trr liam #trr drake #trr maxwell #trr hana #choices fan fiction #asks and replies

[scoopsgf]

can i get a good night’s sleep? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep?!

or: five times peter parker doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

my contribution to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! this is for @snarky-drabbles - I hope you enjoy it! 

1. 

The first time is actually just the first in a while. Peter’s had problems sleeping ever since he was a little kid; it was just one issue of many that stacked up on top of each other, resulting in his personal belief that he must be the most difficult kid to look after on the planet.

Asthma meant hundreds of dollars spent on inhalers, covering what their shitty insurance didn’t. His poor eyesight was the same story and the bullies that used to break his glasses had never helped. But it wasn’t just physical crap, of course: he’s had anxiety for as long as he can remember.

There are cute side-effects like panic attacks and nausea, not to mention the constant sense of impending doom he’s been nursing since… well, birth, probably. When he was younger he’d worry about whether or not the taxi driver had enough gas in his car to get them where they needed to go, or maybe Ben would get shot at work (ironically enough, he’d never worried that Ben would get shot off-duty, and there is a teeny superstitious sliver of him that believes maybe if he had considered the possibility it never would have happened, like some kind of a reverse jinx or something).

One of the other cute things that comes along with it is insomnia.

So here he is, pacing in his kitchen at three in the morning because May isn’t home yet.

Her shift ended at two. She’s usually back within a half hour considering the hospital isn’t far, hence his agitation.

He’s tried calling and texting to no avail, and he keeps telling himself that everything is fine, that she probably just got held up; meanwhile his subconscious provides a great slideshow of mental images that speak to the opposite—her getting kidnapped because somehow someone links her to Spider-Man, her getting hit with a car, mugged, shot, slipping on black ice—and that’s actually not far-fetched considering it’s January, there’s a lot of it, and so he pulls out his phone and types, You didn’t slip on black ice and die did you? to May.

No little dots appear to signify that she’s typing. The message doesn’t even change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’.

She has her read receipts on. She’s promised him. There’s no reason she’d change that, right? But maybe she accidentally switched them off when she was scrolling through her settings.

He calls her.

“Hi, this is May Parker, I’m unavailable at the moment but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as—”

Peter hangs up with a dissatisfied grunt.

It’s only then that he realises, to his great dismay, that he’s paced all the way onto the ceiling.

In his shock he loses concentration and falls. “Ow, fuck.” He pulls his aching knee to his chest. It’ll no doubt be bruised soon. “God has forsaken me.”

He picks up his now cracked phone and texts Ned:

I just fell off the ceiling at 3 AM in the morning

Don’t ask me what I was doing on it

Every bone in my body is broken :(

No reply comes which is pretty typical; Ned probably passed out in front of his PC like, hours ago. Peter can picture it: the light of his computer screen casting a blue glow over everything in the room, his head probably tucked into his arms to muffle his snores (and there’s also probably a bowl of stale popcorn spilled across his floor at this point), his creepy mother lurking in the doorway—or worse, trying to find out how to snoop through his laptop while he’s out of it.

Peter could totally go swing down there and help the guy out. It would be something to do anyway.

But no. The door is too far. His suit… too much work. It’s definitely better to just stay here curled up under the table like a little turtle.

But wait—a blanket.

Is it worth the effort? Probably. Peter scans his immediate surroundings and, oh boy, Lady Fate is actually on his side tonight because there’s a gigantic purple fluffy one hanging off the couch and it only takes a little bit of physical exertion to yank it down and wrap it around his body.

He burrows deeper into it and scrolls through Instagram. MJ posted a picture of a banana today. Literally like, just a banana. No caption, no explanation on her story, nothing.

Peter double taps it and comments: i hope u asked before u took his jacket

No like. No reply. That makes sense. It is three in the fucking morning, after all.

No. Three thirty. It’s been an hour and a half.

What had May said once? That it was okay to call someone if she was two hours late?

Peter tries texting and calling one more time and then just sits there, staring at his home screen and watching the minutes pass. At exactly four AM after much deliberation and stomach churning, he calls someone else.

Three rings later: “I’m in Vienna right now so this better be good.”

Peter feels even more nauseous than before. “Oh,” he says. “I guess—never mind, then. Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, that was just for show and I’m greatly intrigued as to why you’re calling me so… early? Late? Anyway I’m out of the conference room now so lay it on me.”

Against his will, Peter’s lip quirks up. “Um, it’s kind of stupid—”

“Nothing is ever stupid,” Tony says. “Especially when it’s coming from the brain of a kid with an intelligence quotient of 260.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and then it all just comes tumbling out, “It’s really late and May was supposed to be off at two and home by two-thirty, but she’s not and I don’t know what to do. I tried calling and texting but she’s not replying and I know that I’m probably just building it up in my head but I can’t help freaking out because like, what if she got stabbed or slipped on black ice or—”

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Tony’s voice has softened immeasurably. Something uncoils in Peter’s stomach. He flops onto his side and closes his eyes. “I’m breathing.”

“That’s good, kiddo. Now just hang on a sec, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Well she works there, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“And you haven’t tried calling them yet, correct?”

“...Correct.”

“Ergo,” Tony says.

“But I—”

“Yeah?”

Peter bites his lip and then he just blurts it: “I don’t want you to hang up.”

He feels like such a child but the thought of losing connection with Tony is literally making his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. He needs someone. He needs an adult.

“Well lucky for us both I have two phones.”

Peter cracks an eye. “You what?”

“I’m Tony Stark, don’t question it. Hang on, let me just—hello, hi, um, I need this room. No, it can’t wait. Yes the whole room. Yes locked. I don’t know, five minutes? Ten? An hour? No, I’m not joking. Thank you. Thanks. Yeah. Okay. Bye now.” Something slams shut—the door to the office Tony just stole, probably. “Okay, just a sec, I have the number for the reception desk she works at in my phone.”

Peter, for some reason, feels immeasurably comforted by that. He sits in silence gnawing on his lip while Tony has a somewhat muffled conversation he can’t hear the other side of. Then, “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay, well, they said she’s covering for someone and can’t get to the phone because a baby had to have emergency surgery so she’s literally in the OR as we speak. Pretty badass and not bad as far as excuses go. Now that you know she’s fine and not dead by ice, how about you get some shut-eye, okay kid?”

Peter swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No Mr. Stark this time, huh?”

“It’s too late for formalities.”

“I see,” Tony replies. “Sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line goes dead. Peter, slightly relieved but not fully consoled, rolls over to face the door. He doesn’t sleep at all that night and is still there when May comes home at six in the morning with bagels and apologies.

—

2. 

The anniversary of Ben’s death is always super weird.

This time it takes him a few minutes to remember what day it is: he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and then it hits him like a train: oh, it’s been three years.

Then comes May. She usually tries to cook something for breakfast but like always it burns. He leaves the bathroom to the sound of the smoke alarm and fans a cookie sheet at the screeching little device while she swears up and down in Italian.

“It’s okay, May, really—”

“No, it’s not!” She snaps, tossing a batch of blackened cinnamon rolls into the trash. “I just want this day to be easy for you!”

Peter goes over to her and, after kicking the oven door shut with his foot, pulls her into his arms. May starts to cry even though she tries not to; sniffles turn into barely stifled sobs. He knows that it’s harder for her than it is for him. Ben was her husband and they’d been married for thirteen years when he died. Sometimes he still catches her looking to see if he’s laughing too when they watch TV, only to find an empty recliner.

“It’s okay for it to be a bad day,” he whispers. “You know that, right? I mean, I love you to pieces, May, but I don’t wanna see you bending over backwards for me.”

“But that’s my job, doofus.”

Peter pulls back. He’s an inch taller than her now. “No it’s not. We take care of each other, okay?”

Then comes school. Ned usually hovers nervously like an agitated gnat, too afraid to say anything, not sure if he should act normal or be sad in solidarity, which means it’s kind of Peter’s job to set the tone. As he’s putting his combination in for his locker he asks, “So did you beat that level of Obra Dinn last night?”

Ned, shoulders slumping with relief, starts to ramble on about how hard it was to do and how it took him like, thirty whole tries.

They go to class. Peter zones out. He doesn’t bother making more web fluid or ditching and he gets so inside his own head that Coach Wilson compliments him again during gym class. Peter deliberately slows down after that, even if it’s kind of irritating; being physically active actually helps work off his anger.

Because that’s what he is more than anything else: angry. At the mugger, yeah, but at himself more than anything else. It was his fault that they were out that night, anyway. It’s a wonder that May doesn’t hate his fucking guts.

When school is up Peter comes home to an empty house. He thinks about going on patrol but doesn’t really feel up to it, and then he feels bad for not wanting to do it because like, what if someone is dying?

So he puts on the suit and swings from rooftop to rooftop, but there’s no action today. Peter eventually settles on a fire escape with a burrito. A stray cat hops up after a while and, despite his matted fur and crazy eyes, Peter decides he has a kind of quiet dignity about him and names him Charles.

“Do you like beef?” He asks, holding some out for Charles to sniff. The cat yowls and, without any warning other than that, nearly chomps Peter’s fingers off to get the meat.

“Ow, jeez!” Peter shakes his wrist. “I was literally giving it to you for free, but go off I guess.”

Charles blinks his big brown marble eyes and then literally jumps off the fucking ledge. Peter leans over and watches him scamper across the street, somehow not getting hit by any traffic. Sometimes he thinks his spidey sense is more like feline sense in that way: he could probably manage the same thing with his eyes closed.

After a while the sun sets and all of the streetlights turn on. Peter does another patrol around the immediate vicinity but again, nothing. He stays out anyway though because he’d rather do his Chemistry homework behind a dumpster than sit alone in the apartment with nothing but the quiet for company. At least out and about there are sewer rats and mangy dogs and shady characters who actually just turn out to be skateboarders.

Peter is almost done with his assignment when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He looks up and finds Iron Man himself coming in for a landing. The suit drops with a barely audible clunk; it’s Mark 54, the sleekest and most lightweight model yet.

“Oh thank God,” says Tony’s voice, “you’re not dead.”

Peter frowns even though Tony can’t see it. “No,” he agrees slowly. “Why would I be dead? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your aunt called me in a panic at around four when she got home and you weren’t there, and then I checked the scanners and saw that you’d been here, completely stationary, for like five whole hours—needless to say I had a little bit of a heart attack and here I am, relieved and also mildly infuriated. Care to explain, young padawan?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again and, “It’s four AM?”

“Four fifteen,” Tony corrects.

“I didn’t even—I didn’t know! Shit, May’s totally gonna kill me, I might as well be dead—”

“Woah woah woah,” the faceplate lifts, “calm down, okay? No one is mad. Just, uh, concerned, I promise.”

Peter is still frantically packing up his school supplies and not really listening. He only stops when Tony gently touches him by lightly gripping his elbow. “Kid?”

Peter stares down at the older man’s hand. Behind the mask his eyes start to burn. “Ben died.”

“Pardon?”

“Ben died,” he repeats louder. “In this alley. Two years ago.”

All at once Tony’s face falls. He moves to sit by Peter on the grimy floor of the alley while the suit hovers nearby, a hollow shell, just the way Peter feels now.

“Kid,” Tony says, “take off the mask.”

“What? No, I’m in public—”

“No one’s around,” Tony says. “Just take it off, okay?”

Peter does, reluctantly peeling it back to reveal his tear-stained cheeks. Tony stares for a second and then, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Peter. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I—” he chokes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of having to watch May be strong for me when I can’t be strong back, and I’m tired of Ben not being around. I miss him and it—it’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s never fair. That’s why it hurts, kiddo. You’ve got all this love and no place to put it.”

Peter bites his lip to stop it from quivering and looks away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just feel pathetic.”

“Don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I felt the same way after my mom died and it… In some ways I don’t think the feeling ever actually went away, but uh, take it from someone who’s had a lot more time to process: no one is expecting anything from you, okay? And I can guarantee there’s not a single human that thinks two years is long enough to be perfectly fine again. You’re allowed to still be upset about this.”

And Peter is. He’s really, really fucking upset about it and so tired of holding it in. Tony pulls him against his chest when Peter starts to cry and it sort of seems like he’ll never be able to stop. There’s just so much, so much guilt and pain and all kinds of other bullshit that he refuses to lay on May.

So he lays it on Tony. And it’s surprisingly not horrible or awkward or even the end of the world.

“You good?” the older man asks, when Peter finally sobers up enough to wipe his cheeks dry and take a few steadying breaths.

“Yeah,” he says, voice ragged and awful-sounding. “Um, sorry. For freaking you and May out and ruining your shirt, I mean.”

“You know there’s this really snazzy invention called a washing machine—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Tony laughs and it makes Peter laugh too, and the tension between them just sort of dissipates. “Speaking of clothes,” Tony claps his hands together, “you got any to wear in that backpack?”

“Uh, jeans and a hoodie?”

“Fantastic, incredible. Throw them on, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“But what if someone sees?!”

“Let ’em. I’ll have Pep release a statement claiming you as my personal assistant or head intern or something.”

“That’s totally unrealistic.”

“Do I care? No. Just—okay? Up and at ’em, make haste, come on. What do you feel like, pancakes or waffles?”

They bicker about which is better the entire way to the little diner Tony choses, and Peter comes home full an hour later. May is fast asleep at the kitchen table. He kisses her forehead and starts on breakfast for her.

—

3. 

He’s thirty minutes into helping MJ study for her AP French test when she finally gets a question wrong. “‘Il n'est pas clair que’?” Peter queries, holding up the flash card.

“‘It’s not certain that’?”

He makes a pitying noise. “Close. ‘It’s not clear that’.”

“What’s not clear, exactly? That if I see one more word in French I’m gonna blow my brains out?”

Peter snorts. “No, actually it says more clarification is required on how much you like your boyfriend. Suggestions to improve that include: a hug, a kiss, both—”

“Neither?”

He pouts. “Mean.”

MJ rolls her eyes, but she kisses him first. She tastes like the Twizzlers they’ve been eating and her hands are in his hair and she laughs when he presses his lips to her cheeks and nose and forehead.

They somehow end up in an incredibly compromising position. “You know,” MJ muses, “I don’t think I’ve been studying the right kind of French.”

Peter, hovering over her (oops), nods in agreement. “This kind is definitely way better.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and he’s so consumed with this: her and him and the smell of her jasmine shampoo—that he almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

Peter rips away abruptly. “What was that?”

She groans. “God, you’re such a dog sometimes.”

He ignores her, sitting alert with his eyes narrowed at the window and, sure enough, there it is again: a faint, blood-curdling scream. “Someone’s being attacked or something. Maybe four blocks away tops.”

MJ squints. “Don’t tell me you can echolocate.”

“I—” Peter’s mouth snaps shut and then opens again. “I actually don’t know. Anyway, I gotta go.”

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, throws on his jacket, and quickly ducks out her fire escape (which happens to be the same way that he came in). He slips the mask on and tosses his hood up; it’s raining in heavy, icy sheets and Peter is drenched within seconds of swinging. He remembers the first time he’d gone out during a storm; the webbing he’d made hadn’t held up because the chemical formula hadn’t accounted for the massive amounts of water-based reaction, so the biocables had evaporated as they left his shooters. Thankfully he hadn’t jumped first that day, otherwise he would be a Peter Pancake.

Another scream sounds. Peter follows it and winds up latched onto the side of a two-story brick building. There’s an incredibly dark alley below, but a quick flash of lightning tells him everything he needs to know: one man is trying to wrestle a woman down, while another is rifling through her purse. He’s also holding a gun.

“Oh, cute,” he mutters sarcastically.

Peter tries to time it right: he takes aim and shoots a web right at the weapon with the next bout of lightning, but to his immense misfortune, the armed mugger had already seen him and was aiming right back. The bullet hits Peter in the side.

“Ow,” he says, “that was uncalled for.”

He drops. His side is throbbing and hot but he ignores it in favour of disarming the guy who shot him. It’s a brief struggle but Peter ends up whacking the gun out of his hand and webbing it to the wall opposite. Then he knocks the guy out with a solid upper cross to the temple.

Peter rounds. The assailant has already fled, leaving the woman shivering but relatively unharmed.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.

“Me? That guy shot you!”

Peter looks down at his side which is now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah.”

He’d actually forgotten for half a second. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s starting to really feel it: a burning sensation in his abdomen, an aching that pulses from his stomach to his chest. Ah. Wonderful.

A little dazed, he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me. Super healing. Are you good? You need me to call you a cab?”

“What? No, um—the police station is like, down the block, I can go get them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally do that—”

“I can handle myself,” she says sharply, bending down to pick up her purse and the discarded items within. “It’s just… there were two of them and there was a gun and—”

“I get it,” Peter says, his hand pressing harder into his side as the world grows blurrier around the edges. “You really don’t want me to at least walk you down?”

“I’ll take a taxi,” she says. “You just, um, get yourself fixed up, okay? And thanks.”

“Yeah, sure, anytime! But, y’know, preferably never again,” Peter says, and proceeds to swing away.

—

Tony doesn’t expect to get woken up at two AM after only just falling asleep five minutes before, but such is life; FRIDAY’s voice bleeds through the speakers above to inform him that Spider-Man is currently rifling through the Med-Bay and bleeding from a wound on his side.

Pepper looks at him. “You heard that too, right? That was real?”

“It was real.”

They both scramble out of bed. Tony takes the lead, throwing on his jacket as he runs toward the elevator. It’s times like these when every second stretches out into an eternity; it takes maybe five of them to get from their floor to the Med-Bay, but it feels like forever.

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

“I know, right?” Peter glances up. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Peter,” she returns. “Do you mind if I wash my hands and take a look at that?”

“If you want. It’s kinda gross, though.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Through this exchange Tony was already washing up, and now he dons a pair of gloves and sits on the rolling stool. “Looks like it’s through and through,” he tells Pep over his shoulder. “Could you grab a couple suture kits and, uh, the stuff?”

Pepper makes a face. “The stuff?”

“You know,” Tony says, “The Good Stuff.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, that stuff.”

Tony feels around the area. “Do you know what kind of gun was used?”

“Looked like your standard nine mil,” Peter replies. His voice is growing a little slurred.

That’s good though, about the gun. Means there’s probably not any bullet fragments to worry about. Tony grabs a load of gauze and presses it against the wound. He checks Peter’s pulse while he’s at it and finds that it’s slowed considerably. “We’re gonna have to get you some blood, too. A neg, right?”

“Yuppers.”

Tony excuses that because after all, the kid is bleeding out on a table. Said kid actually starts to swing his legs back and forth and, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. “Do me a favour and lay back? I’m gonna put this towel right under you for now.”

Peter doesn’t have any arguments, or if he does, he doesn’t vocalise them. Pepper comes back in with the kits and drugs and, because she’s just smarter than him like that, bags of blood.

Tony grabs the vials first and loads up a syringe. Peter is pretty numb to all of it until the needle goes in. Then he frowns. “Why are you injecting me with alien blood?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s not alien blood, it’s a pain killer. A serious one at that, so you’re probably gonna feel a little out of it for a while, okay?”

Peter frowns. “Is it for Steve?”

Tony tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Yes,” he says, somewhat tightly.

“Ugh. What a turd, Mr. Stark. You’re giving me turd vitamins!” Tony scoffs while Pepper laughs. Peter notices. “See? She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re not helping me here,” Tony says to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, have some thread.”

Tony sighs. “Just stay still for me, okay?”

Peter does. Pepper passes him various supplies and they work together to sew up both ends of the gunshot wound. By the time they’re done, Peter hasn’t moved once, but his eyes are open and he’s frowning.

“How do you feel?”

“Wired,” he says.

“Seriously? Bruce never said anything about the side-effects, but I figured they’d be like normal pain-killers; make you drowsy and all that.”

“No,” Peter sits up quickly and doesn’t even flinch. “I feel like I just got steroids or something. Are you—are you actually telling me that Captain America’s drugs are infused with a stimulant? What, so he can keep fighting even when he’s in the middle of dying?”

Tony blinks. “Well that was smart of dear Banner.”

“Yeah, or insane.” Peter flexes his hands. “I feel like I need to go for a run, or like, break something.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “You need to heal, not mess yourself up even more, understood?”

Peter stares. “Is it normal to see sounds?”

Pepper bursts out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she says when Tony glares. “Really, I am, I promise. Peter, honey, how about we get you to a bedroom where you can rest up? We’ll call your aunt and explain everything.”

—

Everything is going fine until May asks, “How did you get to the Tower so quick, then?”

Peter blinks. “Hmm? Pardon?”

“If you were at Ned’s,” May says, “how’d you manage to swing all the way across town?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I, uh… well, funny story, um… I wasn’t actually at Ned’s?”

There’s a pause over the phone. Pepper, who’s holding it, raises an eyebrow. May says: “You told me you were going to Ned’s, Peter.”

His face feels hot. He hopes it isn’t red. Both Pepper and Tony—from the doorway with his hands stuffed in his sweatpant pockets—are staring. It’s almost as bad as if May were really here.

“Well I was going to Ned’s, but then I changed my mind and went somewhere else and oh—look at the time! I think we’re going through a tunnel—”

“Don’t even try to pull that crap! That’s it, I’m coming over there—”

“May,” Peter says, serious now, “you’re in the middle of a shift, there’s people dying. Just—I’m perfectly fine, I took my Captain America drugs and everything is gonna be okay.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No, I changed my mind.”

“And went where?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Peter.”

“May.”

She groans from the other end of the line and demands to speak to Pepper one on one. Tony’s fiancé grins and switches off speaker, before slipping out with a bright laugh to finish off the conversation. Tony stares expectantly. “So where were you?”

“Oh my god, not you too. You know, on second thought, I actually am completely exhausted and—”

“Uh, nope,” Tony flops down onto the bed. “Fess up.”

Peter sighs. He squirms down and covers his pillow with a head. “No.”

Tony joins him under it. “Tell me.”

Peter scowls. He rolls onto his side so they’re facing one another. “I was with my girlfriend.”

“Oooo—”

“Shush! It’s… it’s really not a big deal and I haven’t told May yet because MJ and I haven’t even really talked about it and it all happened super fast and—” he remembers to breathe, “I just… I always tell May everything, you know? But I kind of just felt like… this was something I had to figure out first on my own. Maybe it’s stupid, but I know she’s gonna be super hurt when she finds out it’s been a month and I haven’t said anything—”

“Kid,” Tony cuts in. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Peter promises, because he is. He’s also just incredibly hyper and stressed.

“It’s a normal instinct to want to figure things out and define them before you start announcing them to the world. I get that. But you’re still a kid, Pete, and even if you don’t want people prying into your love life, we still need to know where you are in case something goes wrong.”

Peter harrumphs as he turns away. “There’s a tracker on my phone and my suit. It would be easier to find me than anything else.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “You got a point there.”

“I just wanted time.”

“I know.”

“But I really like her, okay? Like she’s so smart and she’s got this really dark sense of humour and she’s actually kind of terrifying sometimes—”

“Oh, the scary ones are always fun.”

They stay up talking through the night and, when the sun comes up, Pepper joins them with a tray of freshly made blueberry waffles. May arrives around the same time and, looking too tired to be mad, simply drops onto the bed with them and steals what’s left of his food.

—

4. 

Peter is on patrol when he hears it:

a soft, quiet yelping coming from somewhere down below the rooftop he’s perched on.

At first he figures he’s imagining things, but then his ears perk again. He leans over the building’s edge to find the source of the noise.

In the dark it’s hard to make anything out, so he climbs slowly down the side of the wall, squinting. There’s another yelp and a low whine, almost pained. Peter zeroes in on the sound and creeps toward a set of dumpsters; they’re so full of trash they’re overflowing, and it’s underneath a broken down cardboard box that he finds it... 

A puppy.

Now, Peter is no liar. He’s wanted a dog since he was like, a fetus. The words ‘A dog’ have been on every birthday and Christmas list for as long as he can remember. It’s only recently, in the years since Ben’s death, that he’s pretty much given up—after all, May is so overworked and they can barely afford to feed themselves. How could they afford a pet?

But also…

This is the cutest dog he’s ever seen.

It’s tiny and fluffy and brown and has the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

Peter kind of just stands there staring like an idiot for a good few seconds and then slowly kneels down. “Um, hi,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage. The puppy, who can’t be older than a few weeks and looks completely starved and exhausted, whines in response.

Peter holds out his hand for the dog to sniff. It lifts its head lazily and leans forward, nose twitching and dry. “You need water, huh? Come on, I know a place.”

—

“Shelob,” Tony greets without looking up from whatever project he’s working on. “What can I do for you at… one in the fucking morning?”

“I need your help with something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad or make me get rid of him—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, what have you done now?”

“He was just so helpless and cold and small and…” Peter swallows and reveals the puppy, presently wrapped up in his hoodie. “Meet Nugget.”

Tony’s face is the epitome of Disappointed Dad. He stares, open-mouthed, and after a second his shoulders fall. “Well, fuck.”

Peter snuggles Nugget against his chest and steps closer, but then Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “Nah-ah! Not until that thing gets a flea bath!”

Hope sparks in Peter’s chest. “You mean we can keep him?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m getting near him until I know I won’t break out in hives.”

“That’s not how fleas work.”

“Do I care? No. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

—

“Why do you have flea shampoo?”

Peter’s inquiry is made tentatively. They both have their hands in the sud-filled sink as they systematically wash Nugget’s fur.

“There was… an incident a while ago. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Peter stares. Blinks. “Okay. Well, I think he’s clean.”

Nugget barks as if in agreement, and so Peter and Tony lift him out of the basin and set him on a pile of no doubt expensive, fluffy white towels. Tony takes the lead after that. He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with the yapping, impatient puppy—even when Nugget tries to claw at him and shake himself dry, Tony never loses his cool.

A few minutes later they’re sitting on their stomachs watching Nugget stomp around on a blanket. There’s water in a bowl for him at one corner and a plate of chopped up chicken at another.

“I can’t take him home,” Peter says morosely after a few minutes. “May won’t let me keep him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Where does she even think you are right now?”

“...In my bed.”

“Wow,” Tony says, deadpan. “Okay, well, I most certainly can’t keep him either.”

“What?! Why not?!”

Tony sighs. “I’m Iron Man, if you hadn’t noticed, kiddo—”

“Oh, what, so you’re too tough to look after him?”

“No, I’m too busy. I spend like, twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a day in my shop and the rest of the time I’m on my knees apologising to Pepper and begging for forgiveness. There’s no time in-between to feed the pup, walk the pup—”

“I could come by,” Peter blurts. “Like, once a day, and I could make sure he’s eaten and play with him and stuff. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—”

“Except to press ‘purchase’ on my shopping cart full of dog food—”

“Tony,” Peter cuts in, pleading, “please? I can’t just drop him off at some kennel so they can—” he covers the dog’s ears, “so they can euthanize him in a week when no one buys him. He deserves so much better, you know?”

Tony frowns, considering it, and Peter waits with his breath caught in his throat until, “God, fine.”

“Yes!”

“But! But! A pet is a serious responsibility, okay? You might as well be adopting a child—”

“What would you know about raising kids?” Peter asks, only jokingly, but Tony just stares and then, for some reason, smiles.

“You have to make sure he’s happy,” Tony says. “You have to be there for him in whatever way he needs, alright? I’ll set up a pen in the penthouse and you can make sure he works off his energy there, and if I have time I’ll even take you both to the park. And if he ever happens to pee on my carpet, I’m counting on you to clean it up.”

“Don’t you have, like, housekeepers for that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, but this is character building stuff.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll clean up the pee.”

They continue to iron out the details for a while and bicker over whether Nugget’s last name should be Parker or Stark, and it’s only when Pepper walks in—still in her pajamas, bleary eyed and complaining that they woke her up—that they both decide it should be ‘Potts’.

—

5. (+1)

It starts with a headache.

He’s bent over his desk studying for a Calc test when the throbbing begins. It’s not so bad at first, but after a half hour or so his vision is swimming and he keeps having to take breaks to massage his temples and close his eyes. The equations are all blending together and he can’t think straight anymore.

Peter decides to give up right around then. After all, if he’s not gonna retain any of the information, why bother?

May pokes and prods through dinner. Peter tries to fool her by acting like everything is normal and okay and even manages to make her laugh once or twice.

Inside, dread is coiling through his stomach like an irritated snake. He knows what’s coming next; after all, he doesn’t really get sick anymore, so what else could it be?

Peter tries to sleep but ends up tossing and turning for most of the night. He falls into some kind of half-conscious daze at around four in the morning and rouses about twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat and aching everywhere.

Feeling like he’s gonna vomit, Peter kicks off his blankets and strips the sheets off his bed. He takes his shirt off because the fabric is too abrasive against his skin and it’s like he can feel every fibre tickling against it, grating and chafing. He curls up into a tight ball and covers his ears with his hands to block out the now amplified sounds of the city: car alarms, dogs barking, music playing.

Normally Peter loves the way New York is never silent. Now, he just wishes everyone would shut the fuck up for once.

When he stumbles out of his room a little while later, May is already gone. She’d told him the night before that she had an early shift and for once he’s actually grateful. Haltingly, Peter gets ready for school. He’s already skipped three days this month and if he misses this Calc quiz he’s gonna fucking bomb the class.

May would kill him.

It’s better to suffer a little than die.

Brushing his teeth makes his head spin and the minute he wriggles into his clothes he feels like a caged animal about to claw his skin off. Everything takes so much longer than normal. He doesn’t eat because the mere thought of food makes the back of his throat sting with bile.

On the train, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to tune out the constant screeching of the rails. One day, on God, he will make it a personal project to oil every fucking line in the subway.

At his fifth stop, an old lady boards and all the seats are taken.

Peter swallows thickly and stands. Black spots dance in his vision and he grabs onto the overhead bar—something he hasn’t actually needed to use since he was a little kid—and tries not to pass out.

He almost misses the stop to get to school, but slips out at the last second, millimetres away from getting his backpack caught in the doors. Peter is hot all over and lightheaded as he makes his way out of the station. It’s even hotter up above, what with summer coming now and all.

Peter is late and he doesn’t need his watch to tell; Flash’s car is already parked out front instead of zooming through the drop off to run him over (which, hey, silver lining), and the majority of the student body is already inside.

Peter has to stop multiple times on his way to Spanish just to breathe. By the time he gets there he’s at least ten minutes late for roll call.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher greets, unimpressed. “So glad you could join us.”

Peter makes a noise and takes the proffered quiz. He wonders absently why some people choose to teach. What is it, like, some kind of power trip for them?

He has five minutes to finish the quiz but doesn’t make it past the first question. Ned volunteers to collect them and stops at Peter’s desk while Professor Scott outlines today’s lesson plan.

“Dude,” he whisper-hisses, “you look like complete shit. What on Earth are you doing here right now?”

“Test,” Peter mutters dully, resting his cheek on his hand and closing his eyes. “Here you go. Didn’t finish it.”

Ned takes it carefully, holding it with two fingers like it’s covered in disease. “Do you want me to get the nurse or something?”

Peter hums. “No. Just… headache.”

Slowly Ned backs away. “Um—”

“Mr. Leeds!” Professor Scott says, loudly. Ned jumps. “Is there a problem back there?”

Yes, Peter thinks. You’re the human version of nails on a fucking chalk board. Please, for the love of all that is holy, just start on the vocab.

Only he accidentally says all of that out loud.

The whole class is staring. Flash is slack-jawed. Betty Brant’s eyes are the size of small moons.

“Parker,” Scott grits out—and Peter has denominated him to just Scott now out of reciprocation and spite; “You just earned yourself a shiny new detention. I’d like you to take this slip to the principal’s office. Please.”

Oh, thank God. At least it’ll be quiet there.

Peter stands and brushes past Ned and it literally feels like flames of hell are licking against his skin. He almost vomits. This is decidedly not good.

He takes the paper. “Gladly, good sir.”

When he’s gone, there’s an outburst of muttering that his enhancements let him hear. It only makes the overload worse. Peter covers his ears with his hands again and, overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, ducks into the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before emptying his stomach of last night’s food.

Peter sags against the wall, panting. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for the world to stop spinning. About ten minutes later, the smell of jasmine shampoo—normally welcome—causes him to lean over and retch again.

MJ pokes her head inside the unlocked stall. “Jesus,” she whispers. The second her hands touch his body he flinches and she immediately retracts them. “Fuck, sorry. Ned said you wigged out in Spanish. I looked for you in the Principal's office but you weren’t there and... What’s—what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t even get sick.”

“Bad headache,” he mutters, spitting into the toilet. It’s easier than explaining about his freakish mutations and how they sometimes go completely haywire, leaving him on edge and nauseous and irritable.

MJ grabs him some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. “Did you take anything?”

“Pain meds don’t work on me.”

“Does May know? You should have called in.”

“Couldn’t. Can’t miss my test.”

She sighs. “Your final is like fifty percent of your grade and you could pass it with your eyes closed. You can miss your test, you’re just afraid of getting anything lower than an A.”

Peter is silent. “You got me there.”

MJ’s hand twitches like she wants to touch him but knows she can’t. “You need to go home. Lie down, get some rest.”

“May is working,” Peter says, “and if I have to take the subway again right now I’ll die. I really will. It’s so—the smell and the noise and I can’t sit down and—”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give it.”

She’s holding her hand out for it and giving him a no-nonsense expression that kind of reminds Peter of Pepper Potts on a rampage. He’s seen what happens to Tony when he crosses her, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Hold on.”

She stands and leaves. Peter closes his eyes again. He tunes out her conversation because if he doesn’t, he’s absolutely gonna vomit again and nobody wants that.

MJ slips back inside the stall. “Okay, solved. Do you still feel like you’re gonna vomit?”

Peter thinks about it. “No.”

“Good. We’re gonna go to the nurse, okay?”

“Oh boy.”

—

Tony Stark walks into Peter’s school and finds the hallways empty. The classroom doors are shut and the muted sounds of teachers lecturing are the only signs that anyone is here at all.

He finds Peter in the infirmary, sitting on the examination table with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

He’s at his side in an instant. “Kid?”

It’s surprise that gets Peter’s eyes open, but the little spider baby immediately regrets it. He flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony,” he whispers, like the name is all he can manage and the questions will have to wait for later.

Tony looks him over. There are no obvious injuries. The girl on the phone had said it was just a headache, but Tony is way more experienced with Peter’s brand of bullshit and knows there’s usually something else going on beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna go talk to the nurse and then get you out of here, okay?”

A nod.

It’s always a bad thing when he doesn’t argue. Peter Parker would start a fight about what kind of pizza to order, even if you suggest the kind he really wants, just to be a stubborn little shit about things.

Tony slips out of the exam room. The nurse looks up when he enters her office. “Oh my—Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, hello,” Tony takes a cautious step forward as she stands. He doesn’t bother to sit. “I’m here to pick up the little gremlin in there.”

Her face flushes. “I didn’t know you’d been called, I—I figured I would just let him wait it out, you know? He didn’t want to be touched, so it was hard to figure out what was up and—so it’s real? About the internship?”

“Of course. Why would he lie?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Well… you know how kids can be.”

“Do I?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Tony sighs. “Look, Nurse—uh, Timms—Nurse Timms, can I please just sign the kid out and take him home? He’s clearly in pain here.”

She starts rifling through her desk for a form. “I mean, I can admit you to take him home, but I really suggest you talk with the principal first—Peter was given a detention before he was brought to my ward, see, and I was—” she shakes her head. “I thought he might be faking.”

Tony stares without blinking for a whole five seconds and then, “Detention? For what?”

“I heard he bad-mouthed a teacher or something. But to be fair, Professor Scott isn’t exactly what I’d call patient.”

“Well, be that as it may,” Tony takes the form she hands him to sign, “my kid doesn’t fake. He has a condition, see. Gets uh… overloaded. Sounds, smells, it can be too much for him. Probably why he snapped.”

“That… that makes sense.”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, and hands the paper back. “You’d know that if you bothered to ask. Anyway, I’ll be going. Thanks for the help, Nurse Times.”

“Uh, it’s—it’s Timms—”

The door shuts behind him.

—

MJ was forced to go back to class. She’d argued and protested but Nurse Timms was insistent. So, MJ had relented. She’d pressed the lightest of kisses on his forehead and it surprisingly hadn’t felt that bad, and then she’d gone.

Tony Stark had shown up about twenty minutes later and it’s just when Peter’s starting to think it was all just a vivid hallucination that the smell of coffee and motor oil fills his senses again. It’s overwhelming but not debilitating.

“Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “is it okay to touch you?”

Peter cracks an eye. Everything is bright but Tony’s suit is mercifully black, so he focuses on that. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well I gotta get you outta here somehow.”

“But my detention—”

“I already got you out of it,” Tony says breezily. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tony,” Peter says, cheeks flushing. “You can’t just bribe my principal into—”

“I didn’t bribe anyone. I just explained the situation and besides, Morita’s an old friend.”

Peter closes his eyes again as he frowns. “You’re friends with my principal?”

“I’m a benefactor for your school, too,” Tony says. “But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.”

Something shifts in the air. Tony is sitting now. “Happy’s waiting outside,” he says, “but whenever you’re ready.”

Peter thinks about it for a few seconds and decides it’s gonna have to happen at some point, anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off now. Slowly he takes a deep breath and manages to sit up with Tony’s help. The older man tries to avoid touching him as much as possible, but surprisingly enough the weight of his hand against Peter’s spine isn’t crushing or aggravating. It doesn’t hurt.

“Baby steps,” Tony says softly. “We’ll take you out the side door, okay?”

Even getting to the door is slow going but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Right before they open it, Tony stops and pulls his sunglasses off. “Here, try these.”

Peter puts them on. He feels ridiculous because like, they work on Tony who was literally born in the seventies, but Peter really doesn’t dig the groovy shades. Regardless they’re better than nothing and even help a little.

The halls are empty again. Most of the students will be in the gym right about now, or the cafeteria for lunch. They don’t run into anybody on the way out and as soon as they’re in the back of the car, Peter sags against Tony’s side. He feels like he’s just run ten miles.

“Drive, Hogan,” Tony says, and then the partition glides up.

For a few seconds it’s almost completely quiet. Noise suppression tech, Peter realises, and he feels like he could cry from relief. For the first time in hours there’s just… nothing. No traffic, no dozens of students talking at once. The air conditioning unit is filtered, so he’s not being attacked with the smell of body odour and clashing perfume scents and Axe cologne. There’s just Tony and beautiful, amazing, showstopping silence.

Tony shifts a little. “Better?”

Peter nods, figuring it’s still probably not safe to speak.

“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says softly.

—

Peter doesn’t remember much after the car ride. He can vaguely recall protesting getting out of the Audi, and he remembers Tony assuring him that everything would be okay, and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back in an utterly dark bedroom. The walls are insulated just like the car had been, so there’s just no sound, and the bed sheets probably have the highest thread count of all time.

Something shifts beside Peter and he realises Tony is there, feeling his forehead.

“What—?”

“Oh, hey,” Tony greets. “I think you might’ve blacked out there. All the noise hit you at once when we got out of the car and you just…”

“I fainted?”

Tony snorts softly. “Relax. It happens to the best of us. How do you feel, Webster?”

Peter hums. “Bad.”

“Let’s try a scale of one to ten.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Ten.” Tony lets out a little grunt at that and so Peter elaborates, “It was at like, a twenty this morning, so.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony’s grip shifts to Peter’s wrist to measure his pulse. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.”

And it really is. He doesn’t feel like burning his skin off or anything. Tony’s hands are just warm.

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Peter shifts a little. “I uh… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.” He swallows. “Like, at all.”

“And how long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t know. On and off for a few weeks, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Tony sighs and pulls his hand away. He rakes it through his hair. “Kiddo, what have we said about communication? Does May know?”

“....No?”

There’s a long pause where Tony just kind of sits there thinking, like he wants to say whatever comes next carefully. He massages his temples and then: “Alright, scooch over.”

“What?”

“Make room for me.”

Peter blinks and then, tentatively, scoots over a little to allow Tony room to lie down. The older man does, arching his back a little and grunting in pain because he’s like, ancient. They’re not touching, but very slowly Peter starts inching closer again. Eventually he works up the courage to try resting his head on Tony’s chest, which is terrifying not only because it’s Tony Stark, but also because he’d rather not have his brain implode.

Nothing happens. “Your fabric softener must be like, super expensive,” he whispers, because this is actually better than the sheets.

Tony snorts. “I’ll ask Pep about it.”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise and before he knows it, his eyes are closing. For once they actually feel heavy, and the steady rhythm of Tony’s heart beat is soothing, dependable.

Tony’s hands brush lightly over Peter’s hair and then thread through it. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter promises. “Good.”

And so Tony’s fingers run through his curls over and over, gently, lightly. His thumb sweeps over Peter’s cheek once, too, and then he starts muttering in Italian.

Peter cracks an eye. “Are you telling me your grocery shopping list?”

Tony laughs a little. “My mom used to do it for me,” he says. “Something about just hearing her speak the language made me feel… relaxed, I guess. Didn’t matter what she was saying.”

Peter smiles and wraps an arm around Tony’s torso. “Tell me something else.”

“You wanna hear about the time I almost blew up a Chem lab?”

“Uh, duh.”

So Tony launches into it, speaking in a low voice and absently twisting one of Peter’s curls around his finger. It feels nice and the headache is fading fast.

Peter sleeps. 

#marvel #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #my writing #friendly neighborhood fic exchange #may parker #pepper potts #michelle jones #spideychelle #pepperony #nugget the dog #insomnia