#half of my brain chemistry is the way it is because i replayed the care bears movie tape so much as a kid

[zodiakuroo]

Envy

EreMika is the villa’s top couple. Reader is hoping to turn one of their heads.

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Mikasa Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Contains: 18+ characters, a good ol' fashioned love triangle, possessive behaviour, dom/sub dynamics, lil angst + lotsa pining, threesome, the sex is kinda messy but so is everything else

Word count: 10.5k (yes it's proofread but it's also kinda not)

Notes: For @doinmybesthere’s love island collab! happy pride month 🏳️‍🌈

Lush, mediterranean forests, thick with leaves and the wonder of adventure hidden inside.

Snow white, sandy beaches

Cerulean waters that sparkle in the sunlight and stretch to the edge of the horizon

The view from the infinity pool really is magnificent.

“You and Armin look good together.”

“You think so?” You murmur nonchalantly. The dark shades that cover your eyes dim your surroundings, making it all the more easy for you to see the brilliant figure in front of you.

“You don’t?” Mikasa cocks her head to the side, jet black bangs sweeping across her forehead.

“Armin’s a great guy. He’s my type on paper but… I dunno… I guess I wanna keep my options open.” You chew on your bottom lip, hoping she’ll change the subject. You can’t help the guilt that sits heavy on your heart.

The ‘you’ on the outside would never do something like this. Lead on some poor, innocent soul so you can stay close to the true object of your affections, biding your time until you can confess. Only when you’re certain that said love interest is free to be yours.

“Well, I still think you should lock him down before the recoupling. I don’t want you to get sent home.” Her gentle voice chases away any shame, kind eyes reminding you how you ended up in this situation in the first place.

“Oh you’d miss me?” You adjust your sunglasses, propping them atop your head, slowly wading towards her

“Of course you idiot.” She deadpans, kicking at the water, splashing in your face a little. You squeak in surprise and retreat a little. “You’re my best friend in the villa.”

If guilt is gnawing at you from one end, on the other end is bitterness, frustration slowly building towards a fever pitch.

Still, you don’t want to think about that now. You’ll only sour this moment for yourself. It’s rare that you get her full attention like this these days.

In the beginning, you two were inseparable almost from the jump. Both of you were a little more on the reserved side, especially stepping into such unusual circumstances. Naturally, you gravitated toward each other. Simply being in each other’s presence was enough to bring both of you out of your respective shells. That was the chemistry between you and Mikasa.

But when he dug his claws into her, your crush became one half of the strongest couple in the villa, leaving you behind to bury your own feelings.

Normally he’s stuck to her like a leech with his arms hanging around her like chains as if he’s afraid she’ll make a break for it any second. Like he’s afraid she’ll realise she’s too good to be catering to his every whim, too good to put up with his moodiness and too smart to fall for his charming front.

“Are you hoping someone new will come into the villa?” Someone ‘more your type’?” She uses air quotations to copy your words.

“Not exactly.” You start, distracted by the way she adjusts her bikini top, the soft flesh bouncing ever so slightly underneath her red bikini. The skin on her nose and on the apples of her cheeks are branded a similar shade thanks to the summer sun.

Your heart thrums against the ungiving wall of your chest, as you drift slowly towards her again, this time until you’re so close you feel her feet, drifting underwater at your waist. “I already have my eye on someone.” You answer as truthfully as possible.

“Are you gonna tell me who?” She furrows her brows curiously as you wrap your fingers around her ankles, slowly moving them up to rest on her calves. You use the position to pull yourself closer to her, until your chin rests on her knees. She leans down, as though she expects you to whisper the name of your crush into her ear.

You press yourself on to tip toes, to meet her halfway. Time seems to slow as you try to figure out what to do.

Lie? Confess? Kiss her?

But time doesn’t slow and-

SPLASH

You don’t get a chance to respond after your moment is ruined with an icy splash from behind you.

“Fucking hell!” You scream swatting water in his direction.

Right on cue.

“Eren what the fuck!” Mikasa scowls at him, clearly not amused either.

“I was just messing with you guys.” The sound of his cheery laugh may as well be nails on a chalkboard to you. “Sorry babe.” He pouts.

He takes up your spot by nudging you out of the way ever so subtly. Except it’s not really subtle. Not to you anyways. It’s pretty reminiscent of when he pushed you to the side when the two of them got together. He’s telling you to remember your place.

“Grow up Jaeger.” You roll your eyes.

With his arrival, discomfort sets into your bones. She accepts his apology almost instantly as always, easily placated with simple kisses. Innocent enough at first, starting over her knees but bit by bit his lips move further and further up her thigh, until she’s pushing him away murmuring “Not here.” As if he cared…

Watching them together, the picture of lovestruck, from a distance is nauseating enough, today you don’t have the willpower to experience it firsthand as a third wheel.

You’re about to excuse yourself when you hear Sasha yell from the opposite end of the pool. “Hey guys! I’ve got a text!”

Everyone shuffles closer, awaiting the message with quiet apprehension. When Sasha opens the message she gasps before reading it, making everyone’s anxiety grow tenfold.

“You don’t have to be a math genius to know that 1+1+1 = a crowd. It’s time to simplify the equation. Eren and ______ , get ready for a date! #LoveTriangle”

All eyes are on you in an instant and you resist the urge to duck down under the water to hide from the cameras. You wonder briefly if it would be easier to breathe down there, rather than up here where the tension is suffocating. Your fellow islanders are murmuring amongst each other but the words are indiscernible, muffled by the blood rushing to your head, face burning hot with embarrassment.

Everyone around you is wearing variations of the same expression; confusion. Sure they all had theories about you and Mikasa. Not that you were exactly subtle about it. Often touches that would linger for just a little bit too long, you would always lean in just a little too close when helping her with her makeup and many a time you’d been caught staring at her from afar. It’s just a little too intimate to be completely platonic but not intimate enough to be considered anything but a friendship. Then again, you never even had a chance to take it further because the only person who didn’t seem to notice was the ever oblivious Mikasa, not when she couldn’t see past the brunette boy with the striking jade eyes.

Now, looking at those very eyes you notice how they’ve lost their usual playfulness. As the exception to the bewildered expressions around you, he looks cold and unreadable. Then the corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes but big enough for him to flash his sharp white canines at you.

Mikasa has her eyes fixed to her hands in her lap, picking at her nails (a nervous habit she once told you). She refuses to look at neither you nor Eren.

You want to explain but the right words are nowhere to be found. Right here and now, in front of everyone (including the person she’s currently coupled up with) is not how you wanted her to find out. But you have to say something, anything to take away the melancholy that is so obviously weighing her down, but the words are stuck in your throat and before you can swallow that lump, he interjects.

“I wanna talk to Mikasa real quick.” He addresses you directly. “Why don’t you go ahead and get ready?” He phrases it as a suggestion but it’s more of an order. And just like that, your emotions flip to irritation. Who is he to tell you what to do? Even now, he wants a monopoly of her time and attention. As if your relationship (even just as a friend) might not also be damaged because of this.

And it’s not fair. You have to speak to her as well. You need to tell her that-

“It’s fine.” Her mouth pulls into a tight smile, being mindful of the cameras. It’s obviously not genuine, you can tell but you also know that she’s not one to show her true feelings, especially not publicly like this. But this feels too much for her and that brave face has never been more transparent.

Still, her slate gray irises meet yours. “I’ll be inside to help you get ready in a minute.”

You give an equally artificial smile and then swim across to the other side of the pool, where Sasha lends you her hand to pull you out of the water.

_

The car ride was awkward at best, insufferable at worst. You and Eren weren’t on friendly terms to begin with. Aside from the fact that he was coupled up with your crush, it was safe to say that being alone with him is not something you would ever have done willingly.

Where you found him loud and obnoxious, Mikasa found him excitable and bubbly. Where you saw him as stubborn, Mikasa saw him as driven and headstrong. Where you thought him impulsive and reckless, Mikasa thought him brave and spontaneous. When you said that he was rude and crass, Mikasa would say he was opinionated and outspoken.

It wasn’t as though she couldn’t see the bad sides of Eren but it was that she cared for him in spite of those things. Loyal to a fault she was. You let out a heavy sigh, thinking how much worse that makes all this. She must feel as though the loyalty she felt towards both you and Eren had been spat back into her face.

Silently you stare out the window, head turned away from him. A rare moment when you don’t feel the presence of camera lenses watching your every move.

Your brain is constantly replaying the last conversation you had with Mikasa. True to her word, she did help you choose an outfit and style your hair. But that natural comfort was gone.

No. That’s not true. The bond may be strained but it’s not broken. You can still do something to fix it. But neither of you were willing to address the elephant in the room.

Well, that's not exactly it.

It’s that neither of you knew how to.

Stood in front of the full length mirror, you took one last look at yourself, smoothing out the front of your sundress, but caught her sad gaze in the reflection behind you.

“Hey ____. Earlier, when you said you had your eye on someone. Were you talking about Eren?” Her voice was hushed but you feel it in your viscera, like a sharp kick that leaves you winded

You know what she’s thinking. What everyone is thinking. That you were going to swoop in and steal your best friend’s partner. And you can’t blame her because that’s exactly what it looks like.

But you didn’t betray her, you would never.

You want her. Not him.

It’s almost as though you’ll never get a chance to set the record straight. Before you could even try you were being shooed out the door.

Now at the table, you fiddle with the stem of your glass, resisting your body’s command to down the whole thing. Sitting here in silence with him for 2 hours may as well be torture if you were completely sober but it sure as hell would be better than talking to him.

Eren doesn’t seem to share your sentiments and is the first to break the silence.

“I know you don’t like me.” He says before taking a sip of his drink. “All this bullshit about a love triangle is ‘cause you like my girlfriend. Right?”

He flashes you his signature cocky smirk, one of the many things about Eren Jaeger that seem to irk you to no end.

“I mean she’s technically not your girlfriend.” You say as a feeble retort.

You are right. She’s not his girlfriend because he’s never asked her. Life in the villa was harsh like that. If your relationship wasn’t official, anyone was fair game. Really the only thing that had stopped you from making your move was the painful gnaw of your insecurity. The deep-rooted belief that she would never choose you over him. Just the idea of public rejection, in front of your friends, family and god-knows how many other people, puts the bitter taste of bile in your mouth.

“Like that fucking matters.” He leans back in his chair, long legs spread wide. At least you didn’t bother denying it, he thinks. But why would you, Eren is many things but he isn’t stupid. The way you stare at Mikasa all dreamy eyed, following her around like a stray puppy. When you two are together, he doesn’t like how you sit so close, always whispering and giggling at god knows what. You’re entirely too comfortable, letting her lay her head in your lap while you play with her hair. Small things like that add up, it’s not hard to fingers out what you true intentions are.

He’s not jealous. He’s not. Why would he be jealous of someone who doesn’t even have the balls to go after what they want? You just… bother him. You could have your pick of literally anyone in the villa but no. Instead, you’re always hovering around, waiting for him to fuck up so you can play the role of comforting best friend.

“What’s wrong?” Extra bravado backs your voice. You know this act. He’s trying to intimidate you. You always thought Eren saw himself as untouchable but the way his jaw ticks makes you wonder for a brief moment, is he threatened by you?

“Scared of a little competition? I think you’re on the wrong show.”

“Oh please.” He scoffs before picking up his glass again. “You’re no competition sweetheart.”

“Famous last words.” You hum condescendingly, before bringing your fork to your mouth, letting the food pass your lips.

He clenches his jaw tighter. Being able to push his buttons in this way is something you’re very proud of right now.

He lets out a deep exhale through his nose and says. “You know. I actually had my eye on you in the beginning.”

The bite of food seems to lodge itself in your throat, eyes bugging out of your head. You cough and sputter, quickly gulping down your drink to try and move the lump into your stomach.

“Surprised?” His voice takes on a much deeper tone.

You don’t reply, too busy fumbling for a napkin to wipe down the edges of your mouth so he continues. “Yeah. You’re hot, obviously. But also real feisty. Fun to tease and ease to get a rise out of. My type. But Mikasa…. I could tell she wanted me from the start and if I wanted to stay in this competition, I couldn’t waste any time grafting on someone who was playing so hard to get.”

“So this is all a game to you then?” You say through gritted teeth, both hands squeezing tightly around the cutlery you’re holding. All your anger is bundled up by a thin thread, ready to snap at a moment’s notice.

“I think you’re a little confused. Isn’t that exactly what this is?” He rests his chin on his palm, wearing that same chilling smile from earlier.

“You’re a real piece of shit. You know that?” You don’t want to lose your temper. Doing that means that you’ve given the upper hand back to him. Too bad you’re doing a terrible job of keeping it under control.

“Oh come on.” He laughs as if any of this is funny. “Its not like I’m leading her on.” Sharp as a dagger, those words jab themselves right in your gut. They’re a painful reminder that you don’t deserve to take the moral high ground. Thinking about what you’ve done to Armin, you may even be worse than he is.

“If I didn’t like her, I wouldn’t be bringing her tea in the morning, or making sure she ate.” Eren leans across the table, voice low and gravely. “Or making her cream all over my fingers every night while you and everyone else are fast asleep.”

You pick up the wine glass with the intention of covering his smarmy face in the blood red liquid.

Eren quirks brow at you, watching and waiting to see if you have the nerve. Because he knows that you don’t. If you did, you would have told Mikasa how you feel already. If you did, you would haven’t have latched on to the sweetest person in the villa as a fail safe. If you did, his pristine white shirt would have been stained burgundy by now.

Eren thinks you’re a coward and there’s nothing he hates more than that.

“Could have been you.” He sits back again. “Sorry I beat you to it.”

-

Your reception upon return to the villa is fairly mixed. Everyone is already dolled up with a drink in hand, the party in full swing.

Some people are glad to see you guys back, eagerly asking questions about the date. They might be genuinely curious as to how it went, interested in the development of new relationships or the survival of the villa’s power couple in the face of this challenge

Or they might just be in it for the drama, looking for gossip fodder. Wanting to know the details so they can go to the confessional booth and talk about how terrible of a person you are and how they would “never do anything like that to a friend”.

Other people greet you with disdain, people who would have been friendly with you mere hours ago. Armin is well liked in the villa, boyishly handsome with a kind heart. He’s a bit of a flirt at times but has never done anything with bad intentions. Of course everyone is fond of him. It’s only natural that you would look like the villain for stringing him along all this time, while he was developing genuine feelings for you.

Armin himself was angry of course, but it’s nothing if not deserved. You thought he would rage at you, call you selfish and cruel but he didn’t. Because Armin is a better person than you. You wanted to explain to him that you never meant to hurt him, but that wouldn’t mean anything because you did. In fact it would probably upset him more to hear that he was just an accidental casualty. A meek “I’m sorry” was the best you could offer. A nod and an impassive expression is all he offered in return, walking away to join Jean and some others on the daybed.

As for your date, you can feel his glare from all the way behind you as you make your way across the lawn to the bar. Mikasa is sitting on one of the stools with Sasha.

“Hey.” You interrupt Sasha’s animated chatter.

“Oh hey.” She turns to face you. While you’ve been gone she’s had time to build her defences up again, appearing stunningly neutral, not a hint of listlessness she couldn’t hide earlier. “How was the date?”

The first thing you think is She looks gorgeous tonight. But she always does.

The second thing you think is It’s time to grow a pair. Now or never.

You can still remember the sad look in her eyes from this afternoon. The thought still has your heart sitting in the pit of your stomach. The idea that it was a hurt you caused makes you want to throw it back up.

“It was…” You pause to find the right word. “Fine.” you decide on. You could have lied and said it was good but that’s probably not what she wants to hear. You could have been honest and said you would have had a better time removing your own wisdom teeth with a butter knife but that’s not the point. The date was irrelevant anyways, simple misunderstanding that you need to clear up right now. “But actually, I was wondering if I could pull you for a chat?”

Sasha hops off her chair, wobbling a bit as she lands. “Why don’t you guys stay here? I'm gonna go find Connie.” She places her hand on your shoulder, her own way of giving you a little courage.

You mouth a thank you that she meets with a wink before leaving.

You wipe your sweaty palms on the front of your dress, taking the seat across from her. Your mouth is dry and once again you can’t find the words to tell her how you feel.

Why can’t you just say it?

“So Armin is pretty mad at me. I’ll probably crash on the daybed tonight.”

You colossal idiot! You scream internally.

Once again you’re dancing around what you truly want to say.

Mikasa digs her clipped fingernails into her palm, struggling to keep her emotions at bay, dam threatening to break at any second. After everything, that’s what you came here to say? She knows it’s not your fault that you two didn’t get to talk before you left but you don’t think she deserves an explanation now?

At least Eren had the decency to come to her after. He didn’t say much except reassured her that nothing happened and he wasn’t interested in coupling up with anyone else.

Still, it didn’t quell Mikasa’s insecurity.

She’s never been jealous before in her life but this must be it. It feels like someone has dug into her chest and is squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until her poor heart is nothing but a crumpled mess.

If it had been anyone else, maybe it would have hurt less. Now she’s so afraid that she's losing you to Eren and she's losing Eren to you and in the end, she’s the one left with nothing.

“Yeah he was pretty upset when you left.” With her elbow on the counter top, she rests her chin in her palm. You’re used to her stoic expression because you know if you look long enough, carefully enough you’ll see how soft she is. But this is different. There is nothing but cold, hard steel behind her eyes.

“I deserve it though. I shouldn’t have strung him along like that.”

“Yeah I’d be mad too.” The bitter edge to her voice is one that you’ve never heard her use towards you. You try hard not to take it personally, she’s only mad because she doesn’t understand. You have to set the record straight.

Now or never right?

“Mikasa look. I have to tell you something. I-”

“I’VE GOT A TEXT!” Jean announces, getting in the way of your confession.

“For fuck’s sake.” You mutter under your breath.

It’s pretty obvious at this point that the producers have you on their hit list but as Jean reads aloud the message, it only becomes clearer that they must have some personal vendetta against you.

“Eren, you get to spend the night in the hideaway with the islander of your choice. #DecisionsDecisons”

It’s an easy decision so Eren doesn’t give it much deliberation.

But his choice shocks everyone.

“_____. It’s you and me tonight.”

Even after what transpired this afternoon, your relationship with Mikasa was salvageable but this… you don’t think it will survive

Without a word, she hops off her seat, storming into the villa without sparing a glance at anyone else.

It might have been the final nail in the coffin for his relationship with her as well.

-

Alone in the hideaway, you nervously tug at the silk sheets, bunching the fabric between your fingers.

You’ve been waiting here for 15 minutes, sat in your pyjamas, a simple t-shirt and cotton shorts. The possibility that Eren would stand you up becomes more and more likely. Why he would do all this instead of just choosing Mikasa is beyond you but you know better than to waste precious brain cells trying to figure out Eren Jaeger. If he did plan on leaving you alone here for the night, it was probably for the best. At least you could sleep in a room by yourself for the first time in ages. A small consolation.

Just as you start to contemplate turning off the lights and calling it a night, you hear the door of the room creak open.

Eren walks in still dressed in his jeans and white linen shirt and kicks off his shoes.

“Look Jaeger. I don’t know what you want from me but I’m not interested in playing your games. I-“

The rest of your sentence evaporates when Mikasa appears from behind him. You jump to your feet, fully prepared to leave. Did he bring you here just to humiliate you? If that’s the case then he’s had more than his fill, you won’t let him have any more fun at your expense.

“Not interested you say?” Eren raises his eyebrow, as he gently nudges Mikasa forward.

You should go but your feet just won’t move when she stands square with you. “What’s going on?” You ask, as your chest grows tighter, with every second that ticks by.

“Do you-” she pauses, after a silence that dragged on for much too long. “Do you like me?”

Everything about it is innocent; question, the tone, the way she looks at you. But now your heart is beating so ridiculously loud that you can’t think straight. She asks you so bluntly that you feel stupid for how long you’ve spent agonising over how you would confess. Unlike you, she’s never struggled to get to the point.

Behind her, Eren wears a poorly concealed smile and that’s confirmation of the obvious. You don’t know what he told her but it’s obvious she knows this much. There’s no reason to deny it now.

“Yeah.”

You had rehearsed it countless times, thought about all the flowery words you would use to tell her how you feel. Yeah is not as eloquent as what you had in mind but it would have to do.

“Oh.” Her blush deepens, blending perfectly with the red and pink hues of the dimly lit room.

Mikasa is still shocked, she didn’t really believe Eren when he told her. Granted, at the time she wasn’t really interested in what he had to say seeing as he had just publicly humiliated her. Hearing you say it now makes her rethink everything, from those early days up until now.

She’s seen people chop and change partners with every new face that comes in and out of the villa but that was never her. To her, she already had Eren so there was no need to consider anyone else. But now that she knows how you feel, things are different.

“Hmm. Oh.” You mimic followed by a dry chuckle.

It’s not the response you had dreamed about but what did you expect? Yes you’ve confessed but this wasn’t your moment. It wasn’t the one you’d been waiting weeks for. Ultimately, that moment never came and maybe that was a sign that you and Mikasa just weren’t meant to be.

The big room now feels too small for three people. There's not enough space. There’s not enough air. You need to leave. You need to-

“Well, why didn’t you say anything?” She steps closer to you. There is no malice in her tone. A simple question with a simple answer but you can’t pick up if this is a rejection or not.

“I didn’t know if you liked girls.” You mumble, taking a step back.

It’s not the reason. Maybe it’s one of them but you just needed the space to think. To breathe. But the back of your legs hit the bed and once again your backside is on the soft cushion of the mattress.

She moves even closer until her knees knock against yours.

“That doesn’t matter to me.” She shakes her head and cups your face with both hands so you look at her face, her smile (even though it’s only slight) alleviates the tension in your chest. “If I like someone, I like them and… I think I like you.

The relief that you feel meets an untimely demise when Eren approaches the bed. He pulls her body flush against his chest.

You truly were something. Here he was making it easy for you but you still can’t say what you want. A coward.

He whispers something inaudible into her ear and now you have both of them looking down at you. This is the smallest you’ve ever felt, wanting to shrink even further under their scrutinising gaze. Still, you feel a familiar tingle just buzzing in your lower belly as they size you up.

She tilts her head to the side, granting Eren access to her neck which he accepts. He plants soft wet kisses across the expanse of pale skin. Pink tongue and white teeth appear every now and then as he leaves bruises and bite marks on the, once flawless, canvas. Her eyes fall closed as she writhes in his hold, grinding her rear on to his crotch. His hands wander, underneath the hem of her short dress, exposing more of her milky thighs, black lace panties just barely visible. She hums, finally opening her eyes, to look at you, her thumbs rub circles onto your cheeks.

You can’t imagine how you look right now but you know how you feel. Your head is spinning from the erotic scene in front of you, clenching your thighs to alleviate some of the heat you feel, breathing heavily even though all you’re doing is watch, sitting there in your cartoon pajamas.

Mikasa gasps as he digs his teeth into her neck especially hard, leaving behind the dents of his incisors.

“Focus.” He murmurs into the crook of her neck.

You don’t know what he means but you can’t exactly blame her. If there were hands squeezing and clawing up your thighs, never reaching where you actually need them. If there was a tongue sliding over the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth raking over the same sore spots over and over again before soothing them with featherlight kisses and kitten licks. If you were in her place, you wouldn’t be able to focus either.

“I- I’ve never been with a girl though.”

Your mouth dries up at the promise of her words. There’s no way she means….

“But Eren said he’d help.”

Help?

There’s no chance for you to stop and question once he unzips her dress, letting it fall off her body, leaving her in her underwear in front of you. You can’t stop yourself from shamelessly raking your eyes over her body.

Yes, you’ve spent days with her, lounging around in swimsuits but this feels new. Maybe it’s the way the black lace cups the curves of her breasts, budding nipples just barely visible through the sheer fabric. Or maybe it’s the way the matching fabric only just covers her pussy, that’s just mere inches from your face. She’s so close you can practically smell her. Your tongue dips out to moisten your lips, practically dying to taste her.

Perhaps the biggest difference comes in the smouldering way she looks down at you, it’s the same desire you’ve had in your eyes for weeks, finally being reflected back at you.

Your hands twitch atop your thighs, itching to do something.

Touch her.

Touch yourself.

Anything.

She tugs at the sleeve of your shirt and that's all the instruction you need. You pull your shirt over your head, perhaps with a little more eagerness than necessary. While Eren unhooks the other woman’s bra, flinging it across the room. You feel your nipples harden instantly but you can’t be sure if it’s because it’s due to the cold air of the room or the heat of her stare on your chest.

Mikasa straddles you, stepping free from Eren’s hold. From the corner of your eye you see him unbutton his shirt but you can’t focus on him for too long. Not when your bare chests are pressed together. Both of you shudder as your nipples graze against each other and you feel the heat of her cunt radiate onto yours. You hear the sound of heavy breathing, you can’t tell if it’s hers or yours. You can smell her perfume, intoxicatingly sweet jasmine and amber. Her pupils are already blown wide, only a thin grey ring that lines the pitch black of her iris. You see your reflection of yourself in them and you can only imagine that she is seeing something similar. Mikasa has literally taken over all of your senses, all except for one.

She’s so close to you, she must be able to tell that your heart is racing. Her nose bumps against yours ever so softly. You’re almost too scared to even move. Everything about this moment feels like a dream, what if you close that millimeter gap and it ends?

But you know it's real when her petal soft lips press against yours. It can’t be anything but real when she kisses you, gently as though you might break. You can’t help but want more, slipping your tongue past her lips. And finally you taste her and you don’t think you’ll ever get enough.

You swallow all the sounds she makes as you lick the inside of her mouth, lips sliding against each other. Every whimper makes you hungry for more so you kiss her deeper, massaging her tongue with yours.

Puffs of air escape through your nose, but both of you are much too desperate to stop the kiss for something as trivial as breathing. It’s not worth losing the feeling of her mouth on yours.

Before long, your hands are wandering, trailing over the curve of her ass, rubbing over thin fabric that moulds to her body, tracing the intricate patterns of the lace. Her hand glides up your torso gripping the soft breast in her palms, making you moan into her mouth. She smiles into the kiss, rolling your nipple between her fingertips, sending small shocks of pleasure straight to your pussy.

You maneuver her body, rocking her back and forth on your lap. It’s not nearly enough friction. You’re dying to get rid of the fabric that separates you. You want to feel skin to skin how wet she is for you. You want her to know how unbelievably wet you are for her. You fiddle around trying to adjust the position, trying to get her closer to where you need her.

“Baby.” A deep voice cuts through the tension in the room. For a moment you’d forgotten he was there at all.

Much to your chagrin, Mikasa pulls away from the kiss. You’re both left panting with your lips swollen. Your heart sinks as you come to the realisation that this is as far as everything would go. One searingly passionate kiss and nothing more. You couldn’t imagine a crueler fate.

Mikasa looks over her shoulder for Eren’s instruction.

He crosses his arms over his bare chest, toned muscles rippling with the motion, and stalks over to the bed. “On your knees.”

Obediently, she sinks to the floor, kneeling in front of you with Eren directly behind her. Yes, you just made out with his girlfriend right in front of him but suddenly you’re self-conscious being half naked in front of him.

He’s staring at you and not in the ‘ogling your tits kind of way’. It’s like he’s sizing you up, breaking you down with just his eyes.

“Can I take these off?”

You blink down Mikasa, not believing your ears but you heard the words yourself, clear as day. Eren does nothing but stare, expression unreadable. The room is quiet as they wait for you to answer.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod hesitantly.

Mikasa helps you shuffle out of your shorts and panties in one go, leaving you fully naked. Your legs are already shaking, resisting the urge to snap shut out of embarrassment. You can’t hide anything, not when she holds your legs apart, exposing your bare pussy to herself and Eren.

“Look how pretty she is, Eren.” Her voice is breathy. You’ve never heard her sound like this.

It’s because she’s in awe. Day in, day out you two would lounge around in swimsuits and not once did she picture this is how you would underneath them. Perhaps it’s better that she didn’t, because the thought would drive her crazy.

“Real pretty.” He hums in agreement. He can admit, your little display had him rock solid already. But god seeing you puffy cunt, lips already shiny and slick just from making out has him aching.

Mikasa slips two fingers between your folds, barely grazing your clit.

She pulls her fingers away admiring the way your slick webs between them. She holds her hand up for Eren to see. “Real wet too.”

It proves too tempting for him to resist. Eren leans down to suck on her fingers, cleaning them of your arousal.

You wish you could deny how much it turns you on when you hear him moan at the taste of you on her fingers. But it does and you can only hope they didn't notice how you flinched at the sound.

“You wanna taste her?” He teases when he notices her pout. He’s speaking to her but looking directly at you, pinning you under his gaze. “Then ask.”

“Can I eat you out?” She doesn’t miss a beat.

That tilts your whole world. Are you really sure you’re not dreaming? You nod, not trusting your own voice right now. Mikasa spreads your legs even wider but Eren stops her, firmly grasping the back of her neck.

“Nah. Don’t make it so easy on her. She has to use her big girl words.”

If you weren’t willing to take what you wanted, then he would give it to you. Eren is a nice guy like that. But he’s not that nice. If you wanted it, you were gonna have to say so.

“Right.” She agrees. “I’ll ask again. You gonna let me taste this pretty cunt?”

Eren’s throbbing behind his zipper. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her talk like that. It’s not a monster, more of a little green pest that buzzes around his brain asking him why she’s never said those kinds of things to him.

“Yes… please.” you answer hastily but neither of the two seem to share your urgency.

Mikasa’s touch returns, spreading your lips apart, only for her gawk at your dripping entrance, so close you feel her exhales on your skin.

The buzz in his head goes quiet because she’s waiting for his permission. She’s still his.

“Go on. Taste.” Eren whispers in her ear.

With one broad stroke, she drags her tongue across your cunt making your hips cant up towards her face, both of you searching for what the other has to give.

You will your eyes to stay open, hoping to brand the image of her between your thighs like this into the recesses of your brain. You don’t know if this will ever happen again and in case it doesn’t, you’ll have this memory.

Her tongue laps at your hole with the kind of excitement you can only hope to reciprocate by grabbing on to her silky hair, pushing her tongue further inside you. Not too hard, just enough to guide her in the direction.

She’s close. Right ther-

“Oi.” A smack echoes throughout the room. Eren is now knelt behind Mikasa, massaging the now sore flesh that was reddened by his hand.

Eren hated that you were a coward and he wanted you to take what you wanted but he’d forgotten that what you wanted was his.

Her attention is on him once again and the familiar jealousy starts to crackle in your belly. When Mikasa said that Eren would “help out” you didn’t think it meant him interrupting you two everytime you were starting to enjoy yourself. Of course it was naive of you to think that Eren would let you enjoy anything tonight. Maybe he did bring you here just to mess with you.

You hoist up your upper body to rest on your elbows just in time to see Eren take out his cock. Or rather he makes sure you see it. Gives you an excellent view in fact. It’s fully erect, bobbing against his abdomen while he gropes the flesh of her ass, giving her one more spank for good measure.

“You said you wanted to top right? Stop bein’ a fucking pushover.” He growls.

Her panties are pulled to the side, letting him press the fat, drooling head past her lips. You feel her breath come out in quick puffs against your thighs as she tries to accommodate his impressive girth. Inch by inch he’s filling her up until his hips press up right against her plush cheeks where he rests for a moment .

You look down to where her head rests on your thigh. Her face is scrunched up in either pleasure or pain, you can’t discern which.

Then Eren starts moving, slow and shallow at first and finally her eyelids flutter open. “I’m not done.” She digs her nails into your skin, making you wince. “Put that pussy back on my face.”

Eren lets out a satisfied noise. He really doesn’t know where she learned to talk like that. Even though she’s talking to you, he still feels it so he rewards her by snapping his hips faster, pulling out almost completely before ramming himself back in.

You don’t need to be told twice. Soon you’re back where you were a minute ago, Mikasa hopes to do the same, dipping her head low, already missing the taste of you on her tongue.

Sure she knows her way around her own body but she’s never eaten anyone out. She wonders if everyone tastes this sweet. Doubtful. She’s so eager for more wanting her tongue as close to the source as possible.

But before she can get there Eren chimes in.

“Nuh-uh baby. Go for the clit.”

Mikasa doesn’t argue because she knows that he’s helping her in the right direction. She can’t vouch for his skills, having had first hand experience. If she could learn to eat pussy half as good as Eren that would be enough to brag about.

She parts your slippery folds ever so delicately until she finds the swollen bud, that’s just throbbing for attention.

Her tongue hangs out of her mouth, tentatively flicking against it. She watches your face intently, taking careful note of your reaction. And what a reaction it is. Your thighs twitch beside her head, threatening to trap her between your thighs while you moan something that definitely sounds like her name.

She wants to hear it again to be sure.

“Spit on it.” He instructs her again.

You don’t think she will. The Mikasa you know would never do something so-

She doesn’t question his orders, cheeks hollowing out to collect her saliva that she allows to mix with your juices.

“See how messy she is? Fuckin’ sloppy.”

“So sexy.” She murmurs before diving for your clit again. Her tongue flicks at it haphazardly, she can’t get a good reach because of the way Eren’s thrusts shake her body. It feels good but you need more, shuffling down the bed until she can wrap her lips around the bundle of nerves. Everytime Eren hits just the right spot inside of her she moans against you, and you can feel the vibrations radiate from your pelvis up your spine.

While you’re so entranced by your own pleasure you don’t notice Eren’s lascivious stare. Mikasa being so eager to make you feel good should enrage him. He shouldn’t be this turned on, watching his girlfriend get on her knees for someone else, especially not you. But seeing the way, you’re so desperately trying to keep yourself from rutting against her face, nearly drawing blood from your bottom lip to try and keep yourself quiet. It’s adorable. But Mikasa has been too easy on you in his opinion and he doesn’t think you deserve ‘easy’. He wants to see your attitude breakdown bit by bit.

“Fingers. Use your fingers baby.” He prompts while slowing his thrusts, giving Mikasa more room to work.

One slender finger slides into your dripping cunt, feeling near no resistance on its way. Noticing how easily you take her, she’s quick to add a second, scissoring her fingers to stretch you out. High pitched ah ah ahs fall from your lips matching the rhythm of the drag of her fingers against your walls, the rhythm of Eren’s thrusts into her. It’s agonisingly slow, so she can enjoy the sight of you sucking her back in every time her fingers attempt to leave and admire the way your sticky arousal drips down her knuckles, onto the satin sheets.

Once Eren decides he’s had enough of that he picks up the pace again, meaning Mikasa has no choice but to follow suit. While her fingers pump in and out of you, she crooks them ever so slightly to try and find your g-spot.

When she prods at the spongy spot you go limp for just a second “Mikasa. Oh my god!” You squeal.

“Oho. She likes it.” Eren remarks, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “Keep doing that.”

Mikasa is nothing if not diligent. She consistently aims for that spot while her tongue stimulates your clit, stroking it over and over again. You’re practically rushing towards an orgasm, stomach muscles already tightening up and white spots already clouding your vision.

“G-gonna. Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.” You stammer, teetering on the edge.

“You hear that baby?” Eren asks. “She wants to come for you.”

Eren tugs on her hair, pulling up her head so she can answer him, but all she can manage is a string of needy whimpers.

“What do you say? Hm?” He pulls harder, not satisfied with her response.

“Mm-ah. No.” She slips her fingers out, leaving you empty and clenching around nothings.

“Atta girl.” He praises her, beginning to fuck her in earnest now.

All you can do is watch as Eren fucks her stupid on his cock, driving her closer and closer to her peak while you feel your own pleasure dissapate into nothing.

A hazy fog has descended over her eyes, she’s looking at you but she’s so far gone that she may as well be looking past you.

Eren’s hair is messy, chocolatey strands framing his face, skin dewy with sweat. The heavy plap plap plap of his hips ramming into her ass is deafening. He catches you staring and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed although you do regret inflating his already sizeable ego.

“Tell her how it feels.” He hooks his middle finger into her cheek “Tell her how good my cock feels inside you.”

He has no issue with admitting he’s being petty but he wants you to see what he does to her.

No, scratch that.

He wants you to feel it. That deep hunger you have for Mikasa? He wants a share in it too. He wants you hungry like that for him too.

“Feelsh shhho good. Eren’shh cock feelsh sshoo good.” Her words are barely coherent, drool seeping from the corners of her mouth.

“Hmm. Ask her if she wants it.” He grunts.

“You want him to fuck you?” She slurs, words distorted by the obstructing force of his finger.

Do you?

Before you would swear up and down that you hated Eren. You still do. But Mikasa has gone delirious on his cock, mouth hanging open with her tongue lolling out, whining muffled “Eren Eren Eren”s even with him fish hooking her, and you can’t deny that it has you curious. It doesn’t help that you’re still desperate, from being left high and dry, poor empty pussy just begging for attention.

You shake your head yes and Mikasa’s hand comes down hard on your sore puffy clit. “Words.”

“Yes please.” You mewl. Tears prickle at your eyes from the sting between your legs. “Please. I want Eren to fuck me.”

“So well behaved.” Eren mocks you. “Hm?” He stops moving, still balls deep inside her.

“Good girl.” Mikasa practically purrs, lifting her head up once more. The small praise makes you feel flustered, desperate for more.

“Yeah?” His palm comes down hard on her ass. She almost sounds delighted at the pain. “What are you gonna do for your good girl?”

“I’m gonna make her cum on my tongue.” With that she’s back into your pussy, face first, suckling on your clit with quick pulses and pumping into you with three of her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for her to bring you back to that peak. Maybe because she left you on the edge just a moment ago only to let you watch her get fucked within an inch of her life. Maybe it’s you’ve been wanting this, fantasizing about this for weeks. Or maybe it’s because (as per usual), Eren Jaeger doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up, a string of filthy words falling from his lips.

“You're doing so well baby.” He still hasn’t moved, more focused watching Mikasa fuck you open on her fingers. She’s so focused on making you cum, he wonders if she’s even listening but he knows that you are. “Gonna make that sloppy pussy cum so good. Let her make a mess all over your face.”

That’s the catalyst. It’s then that you’re falling into the abyss of pleasure, legs shaking as you writhe on the bed, while Mikasa’s fingers ride you through your high, gradually coming to halt as everything subsides.

When you finally feel grounded again, you open your eyes in time to see Eren pull Mikasa’s face towards him. Tonguing at her mouth, licking inside and around it to clean off the remnants of your orgasm. You watch longly from the bed as their tongues tangle together, tasting the mixture of you and each other.

When Eren has had enough, Mikasa turns to you, spit-slicked face gleaming under the dim lights. “My turn right?” She asks you, still slightly breathless.

Eren answers in your stead. “Yeah, take these off.” He stretches the elastic of her underwear so it can flick back against her skin. He’s trying very hard to sound indifferent because he’d be mortified if you knew how eager he was to see Mikasa rut against your face until she cums.

“Move up.” The instruction is for you this time, Eren patting your knees that still dangle over the edge of the bed. You clamber up until your head lands on the soft, downy pillows, body sprawled on the length of the mattress now. Eren crawls on top of you, slotting himself between your thighs. Mikasa sits next to your head, now sans panties.

He nudges against your tender pussy with the bulbous head of his cock, spreading your lips apart ever so slightly.

You don’t expect a ceremony, closing your eyes in anticipation for the burn you know is coming. It never does.

“Beg for it.”

Your eyes fly open, face immediately moulding into a scowl. He looks down at you with unabashed cockiness, clearly amused at your frustration.

“You fucking bastard! I-“

“_____. “ Mikasa trails her hand down your neck, grazing over your sternum and tracing the underside of your breast and circling your areola. Your nipples stiffen under the light touch. “He said ‘beg’.”

“But I already said it, didn’t I!?” Your irritation simmers when you address her, still deep down you cringe at how petulant you sound.

Eren’s hand comes down hard against your pussy and you let out a loud cry on impact. His hands are bigger, stronger and harder than Mikasa’s and that one spank leaves your whole pussy aching.

“Told you babe. You were being too soft.” He slides his tip through your folds while you twitch underneath the two of them, spreading is pre-cum around, mixing it with your juices. “Now she thinks she can get whatever she wants.”

She takes your nipple between her fingers, tugging on it gently. “Is that true?” She twists it hard, making you wince. “ I thought you were a good girl.”

She soothes the sore nipple by laving her tongue across it but the reprieve doesn’t last long as she sinks her teeth into the hardened nub.

“I’ll be good!” You whimper.

You're dizzy from the teasing; Mikasa playing with your tits, mouth around one nipple while her hand gropes the other one and the torturous drag of the full length of Eren’s cock up and down your pussy. It’s slow enough for you to feel every ridge and vein around him, always stopping to tease your entrance, but never giving you the stretch you’re craving.

“P-please.” Your voice is hoarse. “Please Eren fuck me. Pleasepleaseplease.”

He’s content with that; hearing you beg for him. He would never admit out loud that he’s jealous but there is a certain envy that sits heavy in his bones knowing that you want his girlfriend and she wants you just as bad. That's why it helps to know that, at the same time, you want him and he wants you too, just in a different way. It's messy and twisted, perhaps a little too complicated to unravel now. Because right now he wants to fuck you until you cry.

Yeah, that’s the way he wants you

In one quick, smooth motion he enters. You let silent scream and just as you feel full enough to burst, he reaches his hilt.

Mikasa lets go of your nipple with a pop and murmurs, “There’s my good girl.” Against the shell of your ear.

Without warning, Eren starts to move, impossibly deep thrusts, moulding your walls to the shape of him. He prods against a spot inside you that has your back bowing off the bed but he holds you down by planting one of his large hands firmly on your stomach.

Soon, he’s fucking you hard and fast. He can’t help it. The loud sound of your sopping wet cunt squelching every time he slides home, dripping down his hefty balls as they slap against your ass with each brutal thrust, was just egging him on.

That, combined with the sweet-sounding quiet moans of his girlfriend with her hand between her thighs, rubbing quick, quick circles while she’s seemingly unable to take her eyes off of the both of you.

She perches up on her knees to get a better look. Wanting to see exactly where he enters you, wanting to see your pussy stretched out way more than her slim fingers could do.

The creamy ring that encircles the base of Eren’s cock makes her shudder. She feels a sense of pride, knowing that translucent strands of your cum was because of her. Part of why you’re so sex-drunk right now is because of her.

“Eren.” She purrs. “You’re fucking her so good. Making her feel so good.” She uses her free hand to tweak at her nipples, eyes flitting frantically between you and him.

“F-fuck!” You cry out as Eren bottoms out and stays there. He leans over you, face hovering just above yours, the strands of his hair brushing over your cheeks. His pelvis is against your clit, providing delicious pressure but not much else.

“Open.”

It takes a moment for you to process that he’s giving you an instruction. But then, you slacken your jaw, lips parting.

“Looks like you can listen huh?�� He sneers. “Stick out your tongue.”

And you do.

It’s all so Eren can drop a glob of spit from his mouth into yours. He makes sure he does it slowly, so that the string of saliva can stretch and stretch and stretch until it plops unceremoniously on your waiting tongue.

“Don’t swallow. Keep it there.”

He gives you another one, coating your tongue in his spit while your own begins to pool in your mouth.

“Hey babe. You didn’t get to cum.” He addresses Mikasa. He gives you one shallow thrust of his hips, the tip of his cock nudging against your cervix.

“Yeah?” She perks up, catching the meaning behind his words.

“Yeah.” He grunts, one more of those thrusts that puts him so deep you feel like he’s fucking the air out of your lungs.

She leans over you too now. Two pairs of eyes, look down on you from above. You blink your eyes shut, trying to escape their scrutiny.

“Open your eyes, sweet girl.” Mikasa coaxes you out of your sheepishness. She purses her baby pink lips, as if considering her next words. “Make me cum. Can you do that for me?”

For the third time that night, you have to question if you’re dreaming or not.

You nod your head a yes, feeling your own saliva pool in your mouth.

“So, so good.” Mikasa tells you.

“Shit.” Eren’s hips jerk against you, when. you squeeze tight around him when she tells you that. “Say that again.” He grits out.

Mikasa is positioning herself, facing Eren with her knees next to your ears, soaking wet pussy just an inch or so above your face.

“What?”

Their conversation is nothing but a faint buzz in the back of your mind, how could you focus on anything except what was right in front of you. Her pretty pink pussy, all wet just for you. The smell of her is heady, rich and sweet. The kind of thing you would get addicted to. God if she would only….

“——, you're such a good girl.” She sighs as she finally sinks down, resting directly on your face.

You moan involuntarily, finally getting to taste what your mouth has been watering for. You let your tongue stay still, letting her grind herself down on it. She tries to roll her hips in fluid motions but they stutter every time her clit rolls over your tongue as she lets out the most melodic moans.

You know that you’re being greedy now, but you can’t help it, the more she gives you, the more you want. Your hands fly up to her thighs and hold her in place. The tip of your tongue catches the rim of her leaking hole, trying to draw more of the sweet honey.

Eren clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “There you go again, letting her do whatever she wants.”

She pays him no mind, slipping her hand between her thighs to play with her clit, while your tongue massages the inside of her walls. “You’re just mean. She just wants to make me feel g-good r- ah right?” She rubs Her other hand tweaks one of your nipples, signalling to you that she wants an answer.

You moan a yes, muffled by the weight of her. You’re darting your tongue in and out of her pussy, unintentionally matching the pace of Eren’s unyielding thrusts.

She rolls the pulsing numb under her fingers, round and round. Her breathing quickens as she tries to bounces on your face; shallow up and down movements.

You can tell she’s close and briefly lament the fact that you won’t be able to see her face when she cums. You wish you could see what she looks like when that wave of pleasure finally crests. But when her knees dig into the mattress beneath her and rooting her firmly against your face, moaning your name as the waves of an orgasm rock her body, you can’t bring yourself to regret a thing. You’d let Eren have that. Getting to swallow down every drop that spills from her is more than a fair trade-off.

You clamp down on Eren’s cock, quickly approaching another orgasm of your own. Mikasa rides out hers by rutting against your tongue, her moans gradually fading into gasps.

“Make her real cum real hard okay ‘Ren?” She still hasn’t fully regained her bearings before she climbs off your face, (much to your dismay). “She really earned it.” She sighs giddy with bliss, plopping down beside you, turning her body to face you.

Eren huffs. “Your wish is my command.” His reaches your raw clit, rubbing it in harsh circles, setting your nerves alight like a livewire. There’s no way you could have held off your orgasm. Your muscles pull taut as you cum around his cock while he pummels your g-spot throughout your climax. As soon as you’ve come down, he pulls out of you. You whine, despite yourself, disappointed at the abrupt emptiness.

Eren mutters various expletives as he strokes himself over you. He’s coated in your cum and it makes the most obscene noise with every flick of his wrist. He releases onto your stomach hot, white ropes of cum shooting out, streaking from your belly button right down to the mound of your pussy. He milks his cock, desperate to get out every last drop, jolting his hips with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He collapses on your other side, leaving you sandwiched between the couple.

For a moment the room is filled just with heavy breathing, the three of you recovering from your recent activities.

Mikasa drags her fingers across your torso, smearing Eren’s cum over your skin.

Your body is sticky all over, a mess of sweat and sex. All of you are. But you’re not able to get your muscles to move, just yet.

As the lust that fogs your brain clears, nagging questions start to rear their head.

‘What does this mean for us now?’ being the most pertinent.

You roll over, to face Mikasa.

Perhaps now isn’t the time to ask, but you’ve learned your lesson about waiting until the right time. It’s in everyone’s best interest to clear it all up as soon as possible.

“So um- agh!” you choke around a sudden intrusion and a salty taste spreads across your taste buds.

“Not now.” Mikasa gags you with two of her digits that are coated in Eren’s cum.

“Yeah.” Eren jostles behind you. His sinewy arm snakes around your waist pulling you into his chest. At the small of your back you can feel his dick pressed up against you, already at half mast. “We’ll talk later.”

#love island collab #dyk it’s mandatory for islanders to go to therapy after the show #i think my subconscious took that info and ran #CAUSE THEY ARE ALL SO BAD AT FEELINGS??? #and have 0 communication skills #eren yaeger smut #eren x reader #eren jaeger smut #aot x reader #aot smut #eren smut #mikasa x reader #mikasa ackerman smut #eren yaeger x reader #mikasa x eren #mikasa x eren smut #tw spitting

[kornflake82]

I already get a good vibe from your profile oh my god- could I have narancia trying to tell his crush he likes her thank you ❤

hello! thank you so much, i’m so happy that I've passed the vibe check!! here's some orange juice for you! i based this off the song bombastic love by britney spears, so read the lyrics or give it a listen! 

bombastic love . (narancia confessing to a fem crush)

narancia was always a late sleeper, usually the last of bucciarati’s gang to dredge his way out of the bedroom while still wiping the sleep from his eyes. when he started waking up later and later, though his dedicated capo started to worry. 

“narancia--” bruno set a firm hand on his shoulder, causing the shorter man to jump before facing his superior. “b-bruno! is something wrong?” he asked, doing his best to sound alert and awake, despite having barely woken up but a few minutes prior. “narancia, i know you like to sleep, but you’re mistaken if you don’t think i haven’t noticed you waking up later each day. i’m sure you--” 

“bruno, it’s okay, i’ve just, uh, been heading to bed a little late these days. and i know, i know, go to bed sooner. don’t worry, bruno! i’ll be up and at ‘em tomorrow for sure.” narancia interrupted, not giving bucciarati the slightest chance to lecture him for something he just wouldn’t understand. bruno furrowed his brow, giving narancia a warning glare before walking off with a sigh. 

 no, of course he doesn’t understand, because bruno’s not the one seeing visions of you taking his hand while lying under the stars in his sleep, no. bruno’s not the one dreaming of you cupping his cheeks before going in for a kiss, whispering sweet nothings he would do his damndest to remember throughout the day. of course he doesn’t understand, so narancia gave him the most half-assed excuse he could understand--get off my back. 

when it came to you, narancia had only thought of you as a friend, a damn good one at that. you two had amazing chemistry on the battlefront; it was almost as if your stands were tied to each other by the red string of fate. he wasn’t the only one who took notice of that of course. hell, even bruno would be impressed by how well the two of you worked together which is why he started partnering you up on missions more and more. narancia hadn’t really realized, though, that the more time he spent with you--learning about your favorite color all the way to how you ended up alongside him in passione--he developed feelings for you. he simply brushed it off as the fact that since he worked with you the most, you became his closest confidant. 

his subconscious was desperately trying to get a hold of him, trying to make him realize not to compromise his true feelings, the fact that he and you should be--

“nara!!” you eagerly bounded up to him, greeting him with the bright smile he loved so much. “o-oh, y/n! what are you up to?” the faint blush on his cheeks deepened the longer he looked at you. your voice lingered in his head, and for the first time since meeting you, narancia felt nervous around you. why? why now? 

“up to finding you, sleepyhead! i just got this from bucciarati-” you waved a manila folder in front of him which ended up snapping him back from his thoughts--all of you, of course. “oh! what’s this?” you gave him an exasperated look as you landed a playful punch to his chest. “all that sleeping is turning your brain to mush, nara. what else do you think it is?” you waved the folder around again, this time a little too wildly, and its contents fell to the floor with an almost inaudible thump. instinctively, both you and narancia dove for the papers; however, when both of your hands met, he mindlessly entangled his digits with your own smaller ones. “n-nara, it’s okay, i got it--” 

“OH, Y/N, I,” he coughed, trying to calm the rising panic in his voice, “I, uh, didn’t even realize i did that! d-don’t worry about the papers, i-i got it.” his lean figure visibly trembled as he quickly gathered the folder messily, clutching it tightly before his chest to keep the slipping papers from falling once more. “narancia, are you alright?” you asked, noticing the flush coloring his cheeks and the sheen of sweat accruing at his brow. the soft pads of your fingers ghosted along his arm and made all the hairs on hid body stand on end. “y-yes! yes, y/n, i’m fine! don’t worry about me, just a little, uh, sleepy.” 

you blinked at him while trying you hardest not to break into a fit of laughter. “narancia...you’re sleepy?!” narancia took a step back, now holding the folder with two hands. “uh, yeah, i think im g-gonna go splash some cold water on my face,” he took a few steps in the other direction before spinning right back around again, “oh, right! y/n, don’t you need this folder?” 

you barely had a second to even register all that transpired within the last 5 minutes, the sight of the folder being thrust back in your direction snapping you back with a start. “ah, n-no, actually, nara, bruno told me to give it to you. he told me there was something in there he wanted you to get a chance to look over before i did...something about needing you to devise a plan on your own so you can start taking the lead a little more, i dunno.” you shrugged, giving him an awkward smile before you stepped back. “well, uh, i think i’ll leave you to your planning, nara. come get me when you’re done, okay? i’ll just be in my room waiting for you.” before he could say another word you hurriedly found solace in your bedroom. 

you hadn’t noticed the burning in your cheeks and the faint tremor of your hands, but they became achingly apparent the second you shut your door behind you. was nara always that cute? your mind was racing, going a mile a minute. even when he was acting like a total klutz, you couldn’t help but subconcsiously admire the way his raven hair messily framed his face--youthful, yet prettied with age. the way his hand felt around yours lingered on you like a phantom, causing you to slide down your door like a lovesick teen. have you always cherished him this much?

**

meanwhile in the bathroom, narancia splashed his face with freezing cold water nearly 5 times. what the hell was wrong with him?! first those damn dreams, then the way the heat in his cheeks would radiate to his reddened ears when your visage hung in his mind, now the tremble of his voice? “merda, narancia...pull yourself together!” he cursed under his breath. as he crashed back upon his bed with a groan, his violet gaze met with the folder lying limp on the bedside table; of course, he forgot to even see what the hell bruno’s deal was. taking the lead? planning without his partner? it made less and less sense the more he replayed your words in his mind--though, that could be because he was too focused on remembering the harmony that was the sound your voice. 

with an exasperated sigh, narancia sat up and leaned over to snatch the folder, emptying its contents carelessly across the bed. “cosa diavolo sta succedendo?!*” in his tremblng hands was--bruno’s credit card? and with a note attached: 

“narancia, 

i see the way you smile aorund y/n, the way you lose yourself in her gaze and your undeniable dedication to her partnership. i think your oversleeping will resolve itself once you finally take the lead. 

take her out tonight--that’s an order.

-bruno.” 

narancia nearly fainted. too much was happening and too many thoughts raced into his mind as he struggled to even hold the card still enough to remove the sticky note. “so a date..he wants me to ask her on a date--” 

“nara?” 

narancia’s head snapped to the doorway, and seeing your figure frozen in the doorway made his blood run cold. when the hell did you get there? “y/n! wh-what’s up?” he asked, the tremor of his voice only making your own panic worsen. “uh, i came to see h-how you’re doing, but...who are you asking on a date? i-if you dont mind me asking!” your heart pounded in your chest as your mind pleaded not to hear another girl’s name, not to hear anyone but you. narancia glanced back to the note-- take her out, that’s an order--then back to you. “uh, y/n...” he set the card aside, getting up to close the distance between the two of you, then gently held both of your hands.

 “n-nara, i--!” he shushed you, thumb gliding gently across the back of your hand. “y/n...i’m going to take the lead now. i’m going to make sure you never have a doubt in your mind about my next move ever again!” with newfound confidence he gave your hands a careful squeeze, before continuing, “y/n, cara...well, there’s no better way for me to say this, but,” your heart burned with desire, trembling body nearly melting as narancia took you into his surprisingly strong embrace. 

“i love you, y/n. and i want to show you just how much i love you...how does tonight sound, carina?”

*what the hell is going on?

#jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo part 5 #jojo vento aureo #vento aureo #narancia ghirga #narancia #narancia ghirga x reader #narancia x reader #bruno bucciarati #fem reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #fic #tomitara

[cagestark]

WinterIronSpider//5

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

sorry about this, really wanted to share SOMETHING with you, even if it’s not my best work.

Here on AO3. -

At the sound of Tony Stark’s rumbling voice, Peter’s stomach drops to somewhere around his socked-toes. All the terrible things that could have happened (not that he’d been imagining any of them, not when he saw Bucky’s pale eyes drop to his lips. All thoughts of morals had been beaten away by the butterfly wings that battered inside his stomach), all those terrible things that could befall any infidelious person and this is the worst of them. Getting caught. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter gasps, stumbling back to put distance between himself and Bucky. Nothing to see here, nothing funny, just two acquaintances slow dancing with red, raw mouths. Yeah—Peter can’t imagine anyone being able to pull the wool over Tony Stark’s eyes, much less himself. Even if he had an excuse that wasn’t thin as he is, there’s no way his conscience could let him hide behind it. Aunt May hadn’t raised him to be that kind of man. Shoulders bowing, Peter says, “Please don’t be angry at Bucky. I came on to him, he—” 

“Is that true, Bucky?” Tony asks. “Did you make this sweet, sick boy do all the work?”

“Hell no,” Bucky mutters. “My ma raised me better than that. He didn’t have to lift a finger.” 

Had the pneumonia scrambled Peter’s brain? Maybe the medicine Dr. Banner gave him had strange (wonderful) hallucinogenic properties that hadn’t manifested until now. His eyes flicker back and forth between the easy banter of the couple, throat growing tighter and tighter.

“In that case, don’t mind me. Fly on the wall,” Tony says, leaning back into the doorway. In his three piece suit, he is the picture of a respectable businessman. The way his eyes burn as he traces up and down them is anything but respectful. His tongue traces his lower lip and Peter replays the sight in his head in ultra high-definition. “Pretend I’m not here. Picture me in my underwear, if you’d prefer—you know, that idiom doesn’t work when I’m not wearing underwear, but these goddamn worsted wool suits, you can see every line—” 

“What, you’re, you—I’m sorry Mr. Stark, but are you joking?” Peter wonders. A worse thought comes with no justification save for a long history of experiencing cruelty at other people’s hands: what if they’re trying to trick him? What into, Peter can’t be certain. What he is certain of is that no man like Tony Stark (no man in general) could possibly be okay with someone else kissing their lover. 

Tony’s face goes soft, a tender twisting of his mouth. Peter’s eyes drop. No, these aren’t the kinds of men who would trick or hurt him. Surely if he looks Tony in the eye, the man will see Peter’s cowardice, his betrayal of their characters. 

“Kid—I’m sorry. It was just a joke. In a way.” Tony lifts the needle on the record player and the music cuts away, leaving a heavy silence behind that no one is sure how to fill. After a stretch, Tony goes on: “Pizza for dinner? Are you hungry?”

Peter is always hungry. “Yes, but—Mr. Stark, maybe I should go.”

“You can’t even stay for dinner?”

“I—alright. No—I mean. I don’t know.”

Tony turns to Bucky. The tone he uses to speak to the other man is night and day from the tone he uses with Peter, his voice low and familiar. “Did you not explain anything to him? What have you been up to all day, buttercup?”

Bucky’s mouth curls up at the corner, a wry, guilty look that makes him look ten years younger. “Dancin’?”

-

Peter clears his plate twice, burning the roof of his mouth (though he hardly cares, the pizza is so good. From someplace in upper Manhattan, real gourmet stuff topped with portobello mushrooms and red peppers and black olives). Bucky is almost as ravenous, folding his pizza like a true New-Yorker. When he takes his metal fingers into his mouth to suck the grease off, Peter has to look away, stomach feeling hot in a way that has nothing to do with the peppers on the pizza. That mouth, those fingers, god. 

All throughout dinner, Tony’s dark eyes flicker back and forth like they are prime entertainment, looking a little heated under the collar himself when Bucky cleans his hands. He tells them a story about running into a professional Tony Stark impersonator in the pizza shop, until Peter nearly forgets that there’s a reason Mr. Stark should hate him. By the time nothing remains but empty, grease-sodden pizza boxes, Peter feels sleepy and full, lulled in the best way. 

“Two things, kid,” Tony says, using a napkin to wipe his mouth. “Small things. We’d like you to live here, and also Bucky would like to make out—“

“Nice opening,” Bucky huffs, eyebrows low and threatening. “Any other bombshells to drop on him? You his bio dad? Tell him that I killed JKF?”

“FRIDAY, scrub the last five minutes,” Tony snaps. 

Peter struggles to follow along. Tony began to lose him somewhere around live here and left him in the dust at Bucky would like to make out. Blinking hard, nothing changes, no world slipping sideways, no veil lifting to reveal everything as a hallucination. But surely this can’t be real life. Real life wouldn’t be nearly so strange. 

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Peter admits, fingers tapping his thighs in an anxious rhythm. “Did you say something about living here, Mr. Stark?” 

“Let’s start with Bucky first, actually,” Tony says, eyes glittering like he’s getting strange pleasure from seeing Peter so flustered. 

“Tony—” 

“No, no, you had your chance to talk to him during the 9-5. You’re officially off the clock. We’re all about not violating Fair Labor Standards Act.” Bucky’s face gives away nothing. His metal hand makes a sound as he clenches it into a tight fist and then tucks it into his lap, shrugging in a way that says less fine, whatever and more I, very begrudgingly and under extreme duress, relent. When Tony’s gaze turns back on Peter, he can’t help but stare down at his lap and the fraying knees of his pants. Aunt May always said the eyes are the window to the soul. “Kid, there’s no reason to apologize to me for kissing Bucky. We’re open. Do you understand what I mean?” 

Peter clears his throat, mouth dry. “You mean you’re in an open relationship?” 

“We don’t usually label it, but that’s acceptable terminology. We aren’t people who stifle our desires, how’s that? Sometimes Bucky’s with someone else, sometimes I’m with someone else, sometimes we’re both with someone else, but we’re always with each other. Bucky has my explicit approval to make moves on young, pneumonia-ridden college students, so long as they are willing.”

Imagining Tony and Bucky together is enough to make him want to squirm in his seat. Imagining them sharing someone between them makes him long to pant like a dog, anything to help abate the volcanic heat bubbling up inside him. One thing at a time, Pete, he thinks to himself. He’s good at giving himself pep talks. After all, for a long time there was no one else around to encourage him. “That makes sense, Mr. Stark. But what does that mean? Mr.—Bucky wants to, to...you know?”

“That is a question you can direct to the defendant. Mr. Bucky?”

Peter colors, looking at the long-haired man from beneath his dark eyelashes. 

“I want to kiss you any time you’re looking sad,” Bucky says, eyes on the hardwood of the table. “I want to make sure you don’t have anymore reasons to cry when you’re around me or not. I want to protect you. I want to kill your enemies—” 

“He’s a poet, isn’t he, regular Shakespeare—FRIDAY, let’s just scrub this whole conversation okay—” 

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, “But it’s Monday, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony smiles. It hints at a lot, not half of which Peter can decipher. He adjusts the blue-tinted glasses on his face. “Right. You’re right, Peter. Did Bucky answer your question?” 

Replaying it in his mind, Peter can feel himself flushing. His mouth tingles where an hour before, Bucky’s own had been pressed against it. If Bucky wants to kiss him every time he’s looking sad, then Peter won’t ever smile again. Not if he can help it. “Sort of. I guess I just don’t get why. You two have each other, and you’re both. Wow. You’re both really wow. I think if I—” Peter barely manages to stop before he says something hopelessly romantic and tragic, something like how he thinks if he had either of them, he’d never be sad again. “I just don’t understand why you’d be interested in anyone else.” 

“I don’t believe in soulmates,” Tony says. He walks to the bar in the corner and pours himself an amber-colored drink. “I believe in chemistry. That’s a renewable resource in my book, Pete, one that can be experienced between a multitude of people all at once. A gas stove has several burners, and just because you turn the gas up on one doesn’t mean you can’t ignite the others, does it?” 

“Not if it’s a good stove.” 

“Not if it’s a good stove,” Tony repeats, voice warm like the alcohol he sips at. He tips the glass towards Bucky. “Snowflake here believes that a person can have many soulmates. It’s all about the ones we choose to cultivate. Sometimes it’s that deep. And not to watch you flush, kid, but sometimes it’s just about the sex.” 

Peter works to keep his face neutral even if he can feel the heat of a blush crawling across his skin. Mr. Stark must think him a blushing virgin (and in some aspects, Peter is). Hopefully, he can’t tell that Peter’s flush is more arousal than embarrassment. 

“So which am I?” He asks, glancing nervously to Bucky. “Am I a cultivating thing or am I a sex thing?”

“You’re not a thing at all,” Bucky says. The murderous expression on his face doesn’t agree with his words. “You’re a human being. But it’s more than just sex. Sex doesn’t need to be included at all. See—I told Tony this morning that we were going to move too fast. We shouldn’t even be mentioning sex until after the third date—“

“Incredible. Do you hear that, kid? He didn’t take me on a date until after the sixth or seventh tryst in the lab. You’re something special.” Tony’s waggling eyebrows belie any jealousy or bitterness Peter might have imagined. 

Still. Peter can’t help but feel...special. Not in a million years would he have imagined someone as handsome as Bucky Barnes being interested in him, not romantically, not sexually, not any way at all. He feels more than a little like he’s stepped into the Twilight Zone. Surely any moment Rod Sterling will appear leaning against the bar talking to some invisible camera.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Peter says, wringing his hands in his lap. He smiles at Bucky with shaking lips, watching the furrowed brow smooth. “I don’t expect anything at all. This is like, not expected. At all. Way out of left field. I still don’t understand…”

“Which part?” Tony asks. He puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, thumb soothing the skin just above the collar of the man’s shirt, and Peter feels it all over. 

“The me part,” Peter admits. “You could have anybody. Why me? Not to sound like, like I’m fishing for compliments or anything but I’m not the sort of guy people are attracted to.” But. Bad thoughts come rolling in like thunderheads, always clinging to the edges of his mind eager to blot out any sun that might appear, because there’s one thing Peter knows he’s good at. One thing people are attracted to. 

Mr. Rumlow tells him so. 

Peter shivers despite the warmth of the room, pizza sitting like a heavy stone in his gut. God, why had he told Bucky and Mr. Stark about the arrangement between himself and the super of his apartment complex? Their reactions were fuzzy in his mind, the effects of the medicine he’d taken turning everything mottled and loose at the edges, but Peter knows how it sounds. He knows what he would think, if it had been another student sucking Mr. Rumlow’s dick anytime he knocks just to keep from having to pay rent. 

It’s not as bad as it sounds, though. Mr. Rumlow (“Call me Brock, I think you’ve more than earned it, Pete”) is attractive enough. He’s not really rough, not large enough to leave Peter’s throat sore the way a bigger cock might (Peter has read on the internet that that’s Possible). He likes to say foul things while Peter’s on his knees, things he knows that are just said during sex, like how Peter is so dirty, such a slut for his cock. But more often than not, Peter just drowns that out. 

Why he feels so pathetic thinking about it, he isn’t sure. 

“Kid.”

Peter looks up and sees the blurry form of Tony, the taller form of Bucky crouched down beside his seat. Eyes stinging, he reaches up to palm at them. His hands come away damp, vision clear, but now he can see the worry on Tony’s face, the intense stare Bucky has fixed him with, and that makes it so much worse. People caring rubs a tender part of him raw and it hurts. 

“I’m not doing such a good job keeping you from crying,” Bucky mutters, handing Peter a cloth plucked from beneath the bar to wipe his face with. 

Peter laughs wetly. “Can’t kiss all my sadness away.” 

“Can sure as hell try,” Bucky says. His metal hand cups Peter’s chin with contradicting tenderness, cooler than skin. His eyes flutter closed on instinct, opening only when the older man pauses close enough that Peter can feel his warm breath against his face. Those eyes, the entire expression—it makes Peter feel like Bucky could swallow him whole. And Peter might like it. “Tell me if you want it.” 

“I want it,” Peter breathes. 

Bucky kisses him. The sound that slips past Peter’s lips is downright disgraceful, a needy desperate little thing that Bucky swallows, his metal thumb coming up to coax Peter’s jaw open. Peter’s only prior kiss was a girl in highschool, and it was nothing like this. That had been an anxious, quick thing, more time spent worrying about his breath and where to put his hands and how to turn his head so their noses wouldn’t touch than time spent actually kissing. This is a submersive experience. Nothing but Bucky exists, Bucky and his tender hand, the tongue that teases, the mouth that sucks when Peter is brave enough to go exploring with his own. 

Eyes opening a fraction, his heart jerks in his chest because—

Tony. 

Tony stands having taken a few steps back, watching them with wide, wondrous eyes. His throat bobs as he swallows, Peter’s eyes tracking the movement. Why, Peter wonders, does the sight of Mr. Stark watching them make every last drop of blood in his body turn tail and head south? He can’t help but groan, letting his heavy lids fall shut again, neck going lax while Bucky kisses him deep and slow and filthy. 

Maybe they kiss for a minute or ten. Long enough for Peter’s tears to dry, for his cock to ache, for his lips to feel raw and swollen. When they part, Bucky’s eyes seem to burn, the thinnest sliver of silver corona around the aroused pupil—and then they flicker over Peter’s shoulder. Peter turns to see that Tony is lounging against the bar, face buried in his phone. He glances up at their movement and gives them a smile that is small but real and warm. 

“Coming up for air?” Tony asks. He slips his phone into his pocket. “Before you have Peter as desert on the dining room table, there is one more important item to discuss.” 

Peter’s head swims drunkenly. Fingers tighten at the nape of his neck where they are buried in his curls. They release in an instant—just an anxious reflex—but Peter’s eyes flutter anyway. How long has it been since he was touched? Mr. Rumlow. Before that? MJ and Ned, when they’d visited him over their semester break last year. Sometimes his skin downright itched, he was so desperate for someone to hug him, to put their hand on his shoulder. His heart would burst at the sound of Rumlow knocking on his door, just to feel human contact, just to feel wanted.

Shaking his head, Peter struggles to clear it. “Sorry Mr. Stark. What, what else is there?” 

“The matter of your destitution,” Tony says, taking his seat at the table again. His glass is full now, though Peter never heard him pour it. “Delicately put—you lack resources. I have an abundance of them. I’d like us to come to some sort of arrangement. Preferably one that doesn’t make me feel seedy, but even more importantly!—one that doesn’t make you feel trapped.” 

Peter blinks. “Trapped?” 

Tony clears his throat. His hands can’t seem to still, fiddling with the tumbler glass, adjusting where it rests on the napkin. Nervous ticks?, Peter wonders. What could a brilliant, powerful man like Tony Stark have to be worried about? “I wanted to invite you to move in to our penthouse; there’s plenty of room. But my better half over there told me that you might feel obliged to say yes even if you didn’t really want to. Or that saying yes might make it difficult for you to maintain your independence.” 

“You want me to live with you?” Peter can hear how his voice grows high towards the end. Even to his own ears, it sounds like hysteria. Maybe most of it is shock, but there’s a part of it (a frighteningly large part) that is...excited. This is young Peter’s dream, his idol asking him to live with him. Kid fantasies. Nothing that should ever be possible.

At his shrill voice, Tony winces. “Here’s what we want: your security ensured and your health maintained. Whatever it takes to see those things come to fruition. Our one request is that you don’t go back to Lafayette Hall. There are people there who would, who are taking advantage of you, kid. As it is, I have it under good authority that Lafayette Hall will be experiencing a change of management soon, but until it does, it would be a real comfort to Bucky and I to know that you aren’t vulnerable.” 

His face burns. It takes effort to swallow past the knot in his throat. “If I didn’t go back there, where else would I go?” 

“You’ve got options,” Bucky says, voice a warm, comforting timber from beside him. 

“One,” Tony says, holding up a finger. “I can set you up in a nice apartment close to campus. All amenities taken care of. I know the supers, very hands off kinds of people. Two, I could set you up on a different floor in the Tower here. I have several that used to belong to the Avengers, but they come and go so sporadically now that there’s no sense in giving them their own permanent space. You’d be free to come and go from the Tower the way you would any apartment. It would be as much your home as ours.” 

“Or I could stay here with you?” Peter asks. 

“I’m prepared to have provide any legal requisite that would make you feel comfortable, so that you would know there’s no obligation to Bucky or to myself. I have lawyers at the Tower six days a week; they’d be more than glad to do paperwork that prevents me from potentially causing a legal scandal. For once.” 

“Mr. Stark, this is, that—it’s all more than generous. Not to sound like a broken record, I just don’t understand why,” Peter says. “Why me? Why would you spend so much money on me, if you aren’t getting anything in return?” 

If there’s one thing Peter has learned in life, it’s that no kindness is unconditional. Yet here Tony is trying to convince him of that very thing, that Peter can have his cake and eat it too, that there are no strings attached to this gift. Just a big, beautiful bow. 

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” says Tony. It’s too difficult to look away from his heated gaze. And Peter doesn’t want to. “ You’re intelligent, hardworking, kind. I was barely two of those things when I was your age, and I’ll let you decide which. I want to see you thrive kid, and if that means investing some—not even a fraction—of my resources, then it will be more than worth it. If nothing else, feel free to consider me a lecherous rich bastard who will sleep easier at night knowing he’s doing his civic duty.

“So what do you say, Pete? No need to break it to me gently, though there will be a mandatory period of forty-eight hours of sulking should you say no, just a warning, but don’t—” 

“Yes. Yes, absolutely,” Peter says, tucking his fingers beneath his thighs to keep from doing something embarrassing like clapping or throwing his arms around the man. He should say no. May never liked the idea of handouts. She was a proud woman who worked until she couldn’t stand anymore and had instilled in him the same work ethic. Would she be disappointed in him for taking this easy way out, for accepting generosity without giving Mr. Stark anything in return? 

If Peter lets himself wonder questions like that, then he’d never stop. 

“Yes? Yes? That was easy.”

“Tony’s used to people telling him no,” Bucky says slyly. 

“As they should,” says Tony, leaning back in his chair. It’s not hard to imagine that the smile on the older man’s face might be thanks to Peter, but it’s certainly hard enough to believe. “I was convinced I might have to beg you to take my money, kid. I’ve been turned down a few times in the name of pride.” 

Peter smiles, lips pressed together tight so that he doesn’t have to say anything like, Don’t worry Mr. Stark, I have no pride.

“You could have Sam’s floor, it’s right below this one, and he spends most of his time in DC anyway,” Bucky suggests. The man looks about as happy as Peter’s seen him. Something about his serious face isn’t made for smiling, the low brows and narrowed eyes and downturned lips, but his brow is smooth and the corners of his lips quirk upwards. 

“Oh, not here? Up here, I mean. With you two?” Peter cringes even as the words slip out. Of course they wouldn’t want him up here in their space, not when there were better options so close by. Still, an entire slideshow had played inside his brain of all the domestic activities they could get up to together: watching movies on the couch at night after Mr. Stark came home from work, cooking breakfast in the morning with Bucky at the stove. He should just be grateful, though. Grateful he’ll be in a place with food and heat and running water that doesn’t taste like iron and rust.

“Up here?” Tony asks. He claps his hands. “All the better. My lawyers will be here first thing in the morning to draw up a makeshift lease of sorts—anything to let you know that your security isn’t contingent on any relationship with us. But if you leave crumbs on my carpet, kid, I’ll throw you to the wolves I swear to—kidding! Jesus, Buck, don’t slap me with the metal hand.” 

“I can walk home tomorrow and grab my stuff,” Peter says, mind far away in the tiny apartment. All he’ll need is to fill his backpack with the few clothing items that he hasn’t worn to death, the picture of Ned and MJ, May and Ben’s and his parents’ wedding rings, his school books. He could pack up his entire life into one bag, which is both a little sad and a godsend. Peter hates moving.

“Take one of my cars; I have plenty of them.” Tony stands from the table and holds out a hand. When Peter takes it, it’s warm and calloused. They shake, but it isn’t enough, no amount of gratitude can be poured from palm to palm. Peter rounds the table and wraps his arms around the man’s waist, smelling cologne and sharp alcohol, feeling Tony arms carefully come down around him. When the man speaks, it rumbles through Peter’s own body. “Lovely doing business with you, Mr. Parker. Saturday is for chores and Sunday is funday.” 

“I’m really good at doing dishes,” Peter grins. 

“That’s what the dishwasher is for, kid. Unless you’re Bucky who likes to do them by hand.” They pull away and Tony smiles down at him, and Peter thinks that maybe things are actually getting better. Maybe all those prayers he made finally reached up through the clouds and were heard and answered. Maybe he’s suffered enough, and the universe is finally giving him some good karma. “You know,” Tony says. He winks at Bucky. “I think this business deal could absolutely be sealed by a kiss—” 

“Tony,” Bucky sighs. 

“Good idea,” Peter says brightly. He shifts up onto his toes, letting his eyes fall shut as he presses a chaste kiss to Tony’s mouth—

What he wasn’t expecting was for Mr. Stark to pull away the way he does, to turn his head so that the kiss falls on his whiskered cheek. When Peter blinks up at him, he can’t understand the shocked, no, the horrified expression on the older man’s face. 

“Kid—I meant you and Bucky,” Tony says. “This thing—between you two? I’m not included.” 

#winterironspider #unedited lmao #as always #cagewrites #helping hands

[spiders-n]

Tease Shirt

A headcannon struck when Z so graciously gifted us this image so I followed it straight to hell. 

Now on AO3

-----

Peter has been studying for his last final for what feels like years when his phone buzzes against the hard surface of the university library table.

MJ: Hey dork. I need a small favor.

Peter’s brow furrows.

Peter: Shoot.

MJ: I have been sexiled yet again

MJ: and while I would normally just kill time around campus for the next couple of hours I just finished my last final and I feel like if I don’t take a shower in the next 10 minutes I might not ever smell clean again. Would you mind if I came over and used your shower?

Peter couldn’t help the frown that slips onto his face. This is the 6th time MJ's been unable to get into her dorm since January because her roommate is having sex. She normally doesn't complain because she loves her roommate and is generally a huge supporter of any woman who actively claims their sexuality but she had let it slip to him once that she was beginning to feel like she spent more time avoiding her dorm than actually living in it. He doesn’t even need to think about it when he types out his response.

Peter: Of course, Em. You don’t have to ask, I made the extra key fob for a reason. I’m still studying for my Orgo Lab final but it’s all yours for as long as you need it. 🤓

Even though he was technically not allowed to, he’d taken his key fob apart in Mr. Stark’s shop and made duplicates for Ned and MJ to get into his building when it had become clear to them that his living arrangement in a newer dorm that gave each resident a private room and bathroom was, by far, the most agreeable place for the three of them to hang out.

MJ had used her’s a hundred times over the course of the last 9 months, Peter is sure, but there is something oddly intimate about letting her be there while he isn’t. When he'd typed his message, the only thing in his mind had been his memory of MJ during last semester's final season, exhausted and worn, and even Peter had to admit, looking a little worse for the wear. Now that he's paused long enough to push past that mental image and the immediate urge to fix it anyway he can, he thinks that perhaps saying "you don't have to ask" may have been a bit too much. He panics for a long moment, trying to remember what state he’d left his room in but eventually resigns his worries to the back burner when he remembers that MJ once saw him blow his nose with a sock and then proceed to leave the snot crusted sock on his bedside table for a week and has since managed to voluntarily and enthusiastically kiss him 59 times since (yes he’s counted). Either she was just as gone for him as he was for her or she had a serious lack of regard for the hygiene of others. 

He can't help the surge of excitement he always got when he and MJ crossed into any new territory in their relationship. He'd given her the key to his dorm as a friend and now she'd using it as his girlfriend and that felt very significant to him in a way he knew would make her fondly roll her eyes at him if he shared with her.  

MJ: omg I’m definitely taking a nap in ur bed and you can’t stop me!

MJ: also thank you

Peter squirms as he reads the first message and tries desperately not to think about MJ freshly out of the shower and in his bed.

He’s seen her just out of the shower twice in his life, and would be lying if he said they were anything less than moments that defined his teenage sexuality. The first time was when she accidentally got snowed in at May’s apartment one weekend in their junior year of high school. She'd stopped by the bring him his homework and decathlon flash cards after he'd missed school due spider-manning a little too hard the night before, and didn't get the chance to go home until Monday evening. That was the weekend she'd found out about him and also the weekend that he'd first realized that he was probably in love with her, a realization that came about largely because of how incredible she looked after her shower. He remembers the very confusing combination of feelings he’d felt when he’d seen May’s green stripped pajamas sticking to MJ’s still wet skin as she stumbled into Peter’s room from the steam-filled bathroom and shook out her hair from it’s bun. He’s still convinced that the whole scene happened in slow motion.

The second time was during their summer abroad after graduation. They were staying in a bunk bed laden Airbnb in south France with Ned and Betty and a couple other Midtown Tech graduates. Peter had been talking himself in and out of just finally asking her out all summer. They were practically already dating in that they spent most of their time together, wholeheartedly supported each other's hopes and dreams, and very routinely accompanied each other to various events that society required people to bring dates to. His only hang up was the unyielding fear that making things romantic would ruin the best friendship he'd ever had outside of Ned. That hang up was mostly stomped out when he saw her next that night. She’d stepped into the room in blue silk shorts and a matching tank top wearing, and Peter remembers this very clearly, absolutely no bra. She had water droplets sitting on her shoulders and arms as she wrestled her hair into a towel and she finally moved her body upright he could see the faintest sliver of exposed stomach resting just above the band of her shorts. It was, in Peter’s opinion, one of the most under appreciated Michelle Jones looks of all time. And Peter had very thoroughly appreciated it at least 4 times.

He glances back down at his Organic Chemistry text book from the screen of his phone, the page half hidden by the notes he’d been going over, and groans at the reality that he’s at least an hour away from an A on his final and more realistically two if he wants to walk in feeling really confident.

Peter takes a second to gather his will and silently reminds himself that even if he was with MJ in his room at that moment the most that was likely to happen would be some making out and co-napping since they hadn’t actually done anything more than that yet. His monkey brain then counters back at him that literally nothing in the world actually sounds as good to him in that moment than making out with MJ and then taking a nap and he’s back to grumpily looking down at his textbook.

It only takes a couple minutes of begrudging reading for him to actually gets caught up in the material and loose track of time for while. It's an hour after their original conversation that his phone buzzes and snaps him back into the real world.

MJ: How much longer do you think you’ll be studying? You should come nap with me.

And then the temptation to say fuck it and just chance getting a slightly less awesome grade in Orgo was back in full force. He takes a deep breath and pries himself away from the alluring thought of a warm bed and an even warmer MJ. 

Peter: The thought did cross my mind. I am probably another 45 minutes away from feeling very confident for this exam, though. Will you wait for me?

Peter hits send and forces his attention back to the material. Whatever the answer, the sooner he finishes studying the sooner he’ll be able to see her.

Five minutes later his phone buzzes and he flips it over to see that he has a Snapchat from MJ.

When he opens it his barely suppressed moan is caught in his throat. MJ is laying on his bed, hair twisted up into a towel, glasses on instead of her normal contacts, lips covered in his f a v o r i t e shimmery chapstick that tastes like mint, all of which would make Peter want to jump her bones even more than he normally does, but on top of all that she is very clearly wearing one of his shirts. One of his Stark Industries shirts.

He’s so overcome by the image that it disappears and he has to replay it again to read the text she’d left in small print over her shoulder.

“I’ll be here all night….” It read. At that Peter actually does moan at that. Out loud, and it turns a couple heads from near by tables. He doesn’t care though because this picture of a very cuddly and soft MJ in his fucking shirt literally waiting for him to get home is too suggestive for his over crowded brain to take. He closes his textbook with more force than is sticky necessary and shoves it into his backpack, scrambling to do the same to the highlighters and notebooks he’d spread around the table as well.

When he’s packed up he grabs his phone and texts MJ.

Peter: I’m coming home now

MJ’s response is almost instantaneous.

MJ: what happened to feeling really confidant for your Orgo exam?

Peter rolls his eyes and then grins. If she wants to play coy he can too.

Peter: it got really hard

He sends and then waits for her to open the message before typing again

Peter: to focus, I mean

MJ’s response lives in the gray dot dot dot at the bottom of Peter’s screen for what feels like ten years before she finally send it.

MJ: Maybe I can help you work it out…

And it’s the ellipsis at the end that forces him into action. Suddenly, before he can bully his brain into keeping up with his body, he’s out of the library and making his way steadily across campus to his dorm with the kind of speed that he normally only employs when he’s patrolling but he’s loathe to find a time that more desperately calls for such measures.

In the end, he learns two very important lessons.

The first is that there is nothing hotter than coming home to find your girlfriend spraying canned whipped cream directly into her mouth clad not only in your T-shirt but also in your boxers. And as he later finds out, absolutely nothing else.

The second is that you tend to test better when you take an exam after a post orgasm induced sleep. Who knew?

#spideychelle #spideychelle fan fiction #spiceychelle fanfic #peter parker #michelle jones #mj #pp #Spider-Man #spider man: homecoming #spider man: far from home #ned leeds #marvel #spideychelle headcanon

[chuffyfan87]

Hiding. Part 79d

The sound of Paul letting out a little sneeze in his sleep broke the romantic moment and caused Duffy to giggle.

Duffy's giggling caused Charlie to laugh.

"We should get some more sleep before they all wake up for the day."

“Sounds perfect to me.”

They slept peacefully for about an hour before the usual morning chaos began. But Peter still didn’t wake up at his usual time. Duffy nervously popped her head around his door to check on him.

He was fast asleep.

She sighed and went back to helping Charlie get the other children ready for school.

It was after the other children had gone to school and Charlie, Duffy and the younger boys arrived home that Peter woke up.

Duffy was curled up on the sofa whilst Charlie settled Paul and attempted to entertain Oliver. Though she'd only walked the short distance to the girls' school around the corner she was rather tired and achy. She couldn't settle though as her mind kept replaying Charlie's words from earlier about Peter having something he needed to tell her.

Peter came downstairs and hovered in the doorway. He didn’t want to tell her, he knew she’d get upset and blame herself and he didn’t want that. He began to play with his hands nervously.

"Peter you're lingering..." Duffy remarked with a sad smile.

“I...” He felt sick, “Need to tell you something.”

"I know." She paused. "I called the college and told them you weren't feeling well so wouldn't be in today."

“Thanks.” Peter smiled sadly.

Charlie was playing with the boys in the garden trying to give him space.

Duffy shuffled up on the sofa and patting the vacated spot beside her.

Peter sat down beside her.

"Your dad said you wanted to tell me something but wouldn't say what it was."

“It’s about Andrew...”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. That was a name she wasn't expecting to hear out of her eldest son's mouth.

“I saw him....”

"Recently?" She asked. "He's not supposed to be near any of us unless it's a prearranged supervised visit with Jake."

“Rape you.” Peter blurted out suddenly over his mother's words. “I saw him.”

Duffy gasped. "W-when?" She tried not to shake. "You were never home when that happened..."

“Once.” Peter swallowed, “You were in the kitchen, He... was on top of you. You didn’t even know... and I didn’t even try and stop him.”

"What do you mean I didn't know?"

“You were... unconscious. I didn’t stop him!” Peter was beginning to get agitated.

"I..." She swallowed. "He did that whilst you were in the room?!"

“He didn’t know I was there.” Peter's hands curled into fists, “I’m a coward.”

"What? No!" She replied firmly.

“Yes!! I should’ve stopped him but I didn’t! I couldn’t. I just froze! I don’t know why I keep thinking about it.”

"You were just a little boy. You should never have had to see that."

“I’m sorry I never told you.”

"I'm sorry you suffered through all of that."

“It wasn’t your fault mum.”

"My poor decisions led us to where we ended up."

“No. Andrew manipulated you. Made you scared and afraid of everything.” Peter reached for this mum’s hand, “You did your best!”

"He revelled in the control and power he had over all of us." She sighed, squeezing Peter's hand.

“But he’s not a man. Just weak and pathetic. A bully.”

"I'm glad you can see that."

“Dad’s a man. I want to be more like him.”

"I know I've told you this before but I really do see so much of your dad in you. Always have."

He smiled, “I love you mum.”

"I love you too." She cupped his cheek with her free hand. "My battles aren't yours to fight Peter."

“No. I know.”

"Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?"

“I think Sarah wants to split up with me.”

"Really? What makes you think that?"

“She’s gone all distant.”

"She seemed OK when I saw her a couple of weeks ago." Duffy mused.

“What if she’s pregnant and she’s keeping it from me?”

"What?! How many times.?!" She ran her hand through her hair in frustration.

“No. Mum, I... we were careful. The scare. What if she lied and said it was negative and it isn’t?”

"Surely she would tell you..?"

“I thought she would too. We tell each other everything.”

"Do you want me to talk to her?" She suggested.

He nodded. “She might be more willing to talk to you, female to female.”

"I'll text her and see if she fancies meeting for a coffee. We'll get to the bottom of this I promise."

“Thank you.” He lent over and kissed her cheek.

"It'll be OK."

He rested his head against his mum’s shoulder.

She stroked her fingers through his hair trying to soothe him.

He was just quiet for a while, “You don’t hate me do you? For not saying anything about what happened? I was trying to protect you.”

"I could never hate you. I love you too much for that."

He nodded. “I didn’t have a nightmare last night after talking to dad.”

"That's good. Maybe you've made progress?"

He nodded. “I think so.”

"So what's your plan now I've gotten you the day off college?" She asked, smiling softly.

“Dunno. I was going to do some studying but...” He shrugged.

"That's a good idea. What you working on at the moment?"

“My chemistry work.”

"You'll have to explain it to me sometime. It's not really my area of expertise but I'd be interested to learn."

“Why didn’t you let me chose biology?” He laughed.

"I think you know more then enough about that already!" She chuckled.

He laughed gently, “I’ve been thinking about uni.”

"Oh?"

“I’m not sure what I want to do but I’ve been interested in going to a few open days.”

"We can look into arranging that. I must admit I'm curious to see what university is like."

He nodded, “Me too.”

"I imagine it's a million miles away from what nursing college was like back when I was your age."

"I've been looking at some courses."

"What are they?"

“Mostly chemical engineering.” He replied, “But I don’t know if that’s where my passion lies.”

Duffy's face lit up. "Wow! I'd love to know where your brains come from."

“You and dad obviously.” He laughed gently, “You and dad are really smart.”

"I barely scraped through my O Levels. Luckily back then nursing didn't require a bunch of GCSEs and A Levels just to get through the door."

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Peter told her, “You’re a nurse and a midwife! Takes someone special to do that.”

"Took me over twenty years to get to this point though."

“How long did it take you to become Sister?” He asked.

"Seven years. But I did have a slight advantage..!"

“Dad?”

She nodded.

“My therapist says I talk about you and dad a lot.”

"In a 'parents - they fuck you up' kinda way?"

He frowned and shook his head.

"Well hopefully that means I'm doing something half right at least!"

“You and dad, you’re both really amazing people.”

Duffy blushed. "Aren't most teenagers supposed to think their parents totally suck?"

“I’m not most teenagers though.”

"So I'm discovering." She smiled.

He smiled, “You and dad, you’re not very good when you’re apart from each other.”

"Your gran once described it as being like we've suddenly lost a limb."

“Gran’s right. Dad gets you, doesn’t he?”

"More than I like to admit at times."

“Is it just because you’ve known each other for a very long time? That’s why you and dad just... connect?”

"I guess in a way. But there was always something special there. We just clicked. I don't know why."

“I had that with Sarah.” He sighed.

"Don't give up just yet. The path of true love doesn't always run smoothly."

Peter sighed again. “She’s been distant for a few weeks. I asked dad what I should do but, I don’t want to annoy her or upset her.”

"What did he suggest?"

“To talk to her but to listen to what she has to say.” He paused, “But if that fails, annoy her and then use her weak spots to my advantage.” He laughed.

"What til I get my hands on your father..!"

“Why what’ve I done now?” Charlie asked from the hallway.

“You’re about to get your arse kicked, dad.” Peter replied, laughing softly.

"Suggesting our son use Sarah's 'weak points' against her ring any bells?"

“Sounds a little familiar.” He replied as Oli dived into the living room, squealing to himself. Paul was asleep in Charlie’s arms.

"Now why would you suggest something like that..? Hmm?"

“I was merely suggesting that it’s an option.” Charlie caught Duffy’s gaze.

"An option that's worked for you in the past?"

“Do I have to answer the question?” A smile tugged at the corner of Charlie’s lips as Oli clambered up to sit in Peter’s lap.

"Depends... Do you fancy seeing how comfy the sofa is this evening?" She smirked.

“Ok.” He shook his head, “Using a woman’s weak spots has worked for me in the past.”

"I see... And what weak spots would those be..?" She was enjoying watching her husband squirm.

He continued to hold Duffy’s gaze. “Well it all depends on the woman. Every woman has different weak spots though some may cross over.”

"Is that so?" Duffy smirked.

#chuffy #charlie and duffy #charlie fairhead #lisa duffin

[ridleytheknight]

Parker Luck Part 3

           Things came back slowly to him. One small thing at a time flitting back into his sense, like the cold feeling of the tiles against his warm hands. Smooth and slightly rough with scuff marks that had accumulated over the years. The arch of his back as his body was elevated on some firm surface. The smell of some kind of oil and cologne. His senses were still fuzzy as confusion blurred his judgment. Why was he on the floor? A muffled voice grew louder and sharped by the second. Clear once Peter was able to recognize it.

           Tony Stark.

           And the warm surface beneath him was actually Mr. Stark’s arms and legs cradling him to prop his body up. Holding him tightly. The realization made Peter’s blue eyes shoot open wide, immediately trying to step up while stuttering multiple apologies and blushing redder than a tomato as his brain tried to comprehend the fact he was being held like a child by Tony Stark. How did that even-?

           Mr. Stark halted any escape attempts by holding him tighter, holding him down and securing Peter with a stern and serious gaze that only worked to make Peter feel even more nervous and anxious. Internally twitching as it felt like Mr. Stark could see through him like a mirror.

           “Did you get injured on patrol?” Peter furrowed a brow, but calmed slightly.

           “No… I haven’t gone on patrol since Tuesday.”  Truth was clean and clear on his tongue like a fresh spring. It brought some relief to the scalding poison that infected him through his previous toxic lies. Mr. Stark’s forehead seemed to crease as he mentally crossed possibilities off the list in his head. Peter was watching curiously until Tony’s eyes narrowed. A shot of apprehension tearing through Peter and down his spine. No. He didn’t know. He couldn’t.

           Did he?

           “When was the last time you ate?” Peter’s skin pale, blood rushing out as his skin turned nearly white as he registered the question. Nothing. He hadn’t eaten since school lunch yesterday. He’d missed lunch today by accident, he’d fallen asleep in the chemistry lab after class. Hadn’t he collapsed then too? It was fuzzy, all Peter remembered was rushing to get to his next class on time. Not knowing how long he’d been passed out. Shit. He couldn’t tell Mr. Stark that.

           “Uh… yesterday…” Mr. Stark’s gaze turned into a sharp reprimanding glare as Peter scrambled for an excuse. Nearly choking before he was able to fluidly speak again. The explanation leaving his lips as if it were nothing more than just words. “I didn’t mean to! I’ve just been studying non-stop for this physics exam today that was worth half our semester grade and it was right after lunch and I skipped so I could study and I woke up late today because I tried to pull an all-nighter which really didn’t work and I didn’t want to be late to class so I skipped breakfast cause I thought I was going to eat lunch and really I just was so nervous that eating got really hard and it was all super crazy.” Mr. Stark cut off his word vomit with a single look.

           “So, basically, you’re a stupid nerd that doesn’t know how to take care of yourself. God kid, you scared me when you took a swan dive to the floor. You can’t skip meals with your metabolism, it’s dangerous and god knows what could happen. What if you passed out while you we swinging around the city? We’d have a flat spider-man, a flat spider man is not something we want alright?” Tony shook his head, but didn’t look angry. Honestly, he looked more relaxed and relieved than angry. Probably was glad it wasn’t anything serious wrong. Or, unfixable. “I got Thai and soda in the kitchen, that should help your blood sugar. C’mon. Let’s get you up.”

           Peter scrambled to obey, swooning and having to lean a good deal of his weight on Tony. Who didn’t seem to even stumble under the teen’s weight, rather it was easy for him to help the lanky male along to the kitchen and sat him down. Shoving a soda into his hand with a gruff order to chug it. Which Peter obliged happily, it was sticky and sweet bubbling on his tongue with a pleasant familiarity. Peter never used to crave soda, he and Aunt May had it a lot so it was just another drink. But god, he had missed it so much. It had almost been like withdrawals going without it for three days. Easy enough to say he downed the whole bottle pretty quickly. Even without Mr. Stark’s directions of drinking it all before he ate. Tony staring intently as Peter filled his plate to make sure Peter didn’t pull his usual stunt on eating less out of embarrassment. (If anyone thought Tony didn’t notice how the kid could go from eating nearly a whole pizza by himself to eating only three slices and claiming he was full in front of people. They were stupid. He noticed fully well. And hated it.) Though, he was satisfied as Peter seemed too hungry to really give much mind to the insanity that was his enhanced metabolism and bottomless pit of a teenage boy’s stomach.

           The image of Peter falling limp to the floor like a ragdoll was still burned into his memories however. Replaying over and over again and harassing him. The picture was almost paralyzing, even after he’d sorted it out it was just Peter skipping a meal because he was anxious for a test. The knowledge did nothing. Peter’s body on the ground still and quiet scared him. It was like a slap to the face. The worry. The fact that even the thought of something being wrong with Peter had sent a terrified feeling being dumped like ice water into his veins. Adrenaline pumping to prove just how fast he could-would- run to catch the boy.

           Tony had to wonder if this was how parents felt every day. Even at fifteen with inhuman abilities and a multi-million-dollar suit with more system checks that Tony even had for himself he still had this constant gnawing concern and terror that only kept growing. Worse was that Tony was never getting used to it. And not minding it. Tony immediately gave Clint more props in his mind. Clint had little children. Tony had a teenager that was basically independent.

           Still, even seeing Peter wolf down Thai food like it was oxygen wasn’t easing the twitching anxiety. Peter in his arms, dead still and so pale in his arms. Nearly unresponsive for nearly ten minutes. It hit a little too close to home in Tony’s own insecurities and worries. That’s probably why the words left his lips before he could even stop them.

           “Peter, do you mind staying over night? We didn’t get to finish the upgrades and you look pretty dead on your feet. We can finish working on it tomorrow morning. Not to mention, I don’t even have a clue where Happy is and you can’t legally drive.” Peter looked at him curiously with those wide blue eyes and paused, Tony felt awkward and nervous all of the sudden, but hid it with a quirked brow and questioning gaze. Fake it ‘til you make it. The nervous dispelled immediately however as soon as Peter nodded thoughtfully.

           “It’s Friday so I should be fine. I just have to call and let May know where I’m staying, is that alright?” The overwhelming relief almost took Tony by surprise; he’d expected it to be a little more difficult to convince Peter to stay. He’d always insisted on being home with May. But Tony didn’t give that much mind as he just thanked whatever deity existed that he could keep on Peter for the night and make sure he was really alright. The thought was more comforting than Tony had even thought it could be. Besides, it wasn’t like Tony didn’t like when Peter stayed over. He actually enjoyed it a lot. Peter was smart, independent, he impressed Tony on almost a daily basis, and yet he still made Tony feel like he was needed. Human.

           Peter excused himself quickly, grabbing his phone from the counter space and dialing the number as he walked. The sinking feeling that Peter had braced for never came when he got sent to voice mail. Excitement was crowding out the rejection and loneliness. Mr. Stark invited him to stay at the Stark Tower. The Stark Tower. A science paradise. Nothing was stopping or choking him up as he excitedly rambled his message. It felt so, normal. Casual. Peter could almost believe it was just another day. That May was waiting for him to come for a movie night and Peter was just calling her to let her know he was staying at the tower and that he was safe.

           “Hey May, it’s Peter. Mr. Stark and I didn’t get to finish the project after all. But it was still really fun! We had Thai food and soda, and we started debating about my concept idea for energy conservation! Anyway, he offered to let me stay at the tower since its getting late and I was just calling you to let you know that I’m safe. Call me back when you can? Night May, love you.” Peter hung up the phone and walked back to the kitchen. Giving Mr. Stark a thumb’s up and the okay as he dropped his phone careless on the island. All the bad feelings forgotten with a full stomach and warm company as Peter and Tony fit themselves back into heated banter and shooting back and forth theories while poking holes in existing ones. The other finding satisfaction in finally finding someone that could keep up with the pace (Besides Bruce, but he was back at the lab in the compound). Before either of them even realized it evening had passed to give way into a deep night. Tony only noticing because of the fact even though Peter’s mouth was still running like a motor his eyes were sluggishly beginning to droop until eventually Tony finally didn’t get a reply when his back was turned. Looking and seeing Peter slumped on the table. Soft even breath leaving in quiet puffs and sighs from Peter’s mouth, making the teen’s back rise and fall in a steady rhythm. Tony rolled his eyes.

           If only he could fall asleep as fast as Peter. Tony dread the day when the inevitable would catch up to the teen. The horrors of being a hero. The twisted nightmares and terrors that would slowly corrupt the child like innocence Peter had. That black and white view of morality and justice. The excitement and awe that Peter still had when he looked at the simplest of things, when he was showed the simplest forms of kindness. Tony still remembered how Peter had almost burst into tears of happiness when Tony had simple bought him a new jacket. Peter had mentioned funds were tight in his house and his was nearly in shreds. A simple jacket. Something Tony had thirty of, and Peter nearly cried at being gifted one.

           Tony would protect that side of Peter with his life for as long as he could. Keep and bat the corruption away with his last breath if he had to. Anything to not see anything but happy tears in his kid’s eyes.

           He was just a kid.

           Kids shouldn’t be awake at night afraid of the ghosts in the past.

           Moving slowly and as quietly as he could-Peter was extremely sensitive in more than just the emotional sense, Tony’s breathing had even woken him up one time- But that wasn’t the case this time as Tony was able to adjust and manipulate the teen’s body easily into a solid grip. Carrying Peter like a child. It was mildly concerning when the light sleeper barely even shifted from all the jostling.

           Kid probably had a rough day.

           Tony held the kid tighter in his arm’s, not even straining under the weight. Peter had always been a little smaller than the rest. A little scrawnier, a little more lanky and skinny. But the kid more than made up for it in a personality much bigger than his body and a brain bigger than his skull. It wasn’t quite what you’d expect of a super hero, but Peter made it work. Being witty and agile with a deceiving strength. Tony could also appreciate it in times like this when it made helping Peter even just a little easier. Even a help as simple as tucking Peter into his impromptu room at the tower (Which would be customized as soon as Tony could get a hold of Pepper for a weekend-what did teenagers need in their rooms anyway?-he’d have to wing it).

           A plain bed was good enough for now however. Even if the sheer size of their bed practically swallowed Peter’s small frame, making him look even tinier in comparison. More vulnerable. It made Tony’s chest ache. If only he could shield Peter forever. He didn’t deserve to hurt or worry so much. Or beat himself up all the time over little things or blame himself so often. Peter needed to be softer on himself and stop pushing himself so hard.

           Shame Tony didn’t already know it was too late to shield him.

---

           It was crushing, his lungs felt like they were being caved in as the rubble pressed down hard on him. The pebbles digging into his back painfully, each breath only resulting in agony. And it only got worse each time his mouth let out a cry for help. Each cry also brought another tidal wave of dread and hopelessness to wash over him.

           No one would save him.

           No one cared enough to.

           His back stung and felt raw, blood dripping down. Then it was gone. The dig of pebbles and metal beams jabbing into his ribs. Though Peter wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not as it did little difference. The rubble lifting, yet the pain remaining, only burning with more intensity and anguish. The crushing didn’t end. The pain didn’t stop. It never did.

           Hopeless.

           The hurt never stopped, never would. It only got worse. Everything was so loud, even the beats of silence rang deafeningly in his ears. Screaming hurt. Crying hurt. Trying to get up hurt. Everything hurt and there was no end in sight.

           His eyes burned as he choked out another cry. The taste of dust and debris still weighing heavily in his mouth as he whimpered. “Mama!!! Ben! May! Papa!” Nothing stirred, not even the air. It was like he’d said nothing at all. There was nothing but never-ending dark. So quiet. So cold. Lonely. “May! Please!”

           “You killed my husband my wife, Peter. You tore this family apart.” The voice warbled between May’s low and disapproving tone and a deep accusing voice. It was familiar and venomous, with a gravelly and growling undertone that sent shudders down Peter’s aching spine. His heart stuttering and skipped. An uncontrollable sob ripped through Peter’s mouth, his body convulsing as he wept. Trembling in fear.

           “I’m sorry papa, I won’t be bad anymore. Please. I’m so sorry. It hurts make it stop. I’m sorry.” A voice picked up in pitch. The voice leaving his throat still cracked. The young voice sounded terrified and sad. Peter didn’t even recognize it as his own at first. Looking wildly around to see if someone needed help. Before realizing the only one that needed help was himself.

           “It’s your fault Peter! Admit it! You don’t help anyone. You did nothing. You couldn’t even stay out of the way. She’s dead! And it’s your fault.” A foot came down, a heavy boot crunching down onto the curve of his back, where a beam once had weighed heavily. He screamed.  The sound was damaging to his enhanced hearing, but there was nothing to be done about it as the sound didn’t cease. His mouth wouldn’t close or silence. So he ignored it, tuning out the screams and the aching in his throat. He was bleeding. It hurt. He was guilty. It hurt. Innocent people didn’t hurt like this.

           “It’s my fault papa. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.” He sobbed, but the feeling didn’t cease. The overwhelming feeling and suffocation only got worse. Ribs splintering and stabbing his lungs over again with fresh pain. Bones shattering into dust. He felt helpless, like he was a child again. No powers. No strength. No hope.

           He was choking on invisible debris now. Throat and tongue dry and constantly inhaling chalking dust. Everywhere hurt. Lashes marks and injuries peeling open and forcing his skin open agonizingly from an unseen weapon. And Peter could only whimper. He was doomed. He was dying. Drowning. Suffocating. And there was nothing he could do. He would just die. Just like he deserved.

           It was his fault.

#angst #nightmares #peter parker #hurt peter parker #tony stark #protective tony #dad tony stark

[kdinthecity]

Confessions of a Teenage Sugar Queen: Underwater

Welcome to Day Two of @zutaraweek. Here is the previous chapter from Day One, Chapter 1: Fired Up.

The Memorial Day holiday weekend marks the end of school and beginning of summer. Ozai—excuse me, Mr. Kasai, ever so graciously invited “Azula’s friends” to their family beach house on Ember Island. Dad must not have known we’d all be there without adult supervision, otherwise he’d never agree to this. Especially since Sokka is here with his girlfriend, Suki. Ugh, they are so disgusting together and not even subtle about it! I actually respected her—a cheerleader, taekwondo black belt, honors student who nailed the coveted coast guard internship for the summer. But when I stepped on something cold, wet, and squishy in the bathroom on the first morning of our beach getaway... just, ew.

I know it’s not their first time. And I know people do it, alright? Hell, Jet and I did everything but. I just want it to be special. And with someone I… dare I say it? Love.

Can you fall in love in high school? My rational brain says no. I write about it in my fictional stories, but that’s the only way I’ll entertain the idea. Besides, I have responsibilities. Gran Gran is great at taking care of us, but she isn’t getting any younger. Dad is gone over half the year. Sokka can barely match his own socks much less wash them. And for my junior year, I plan to take college level calculus, chemistry, and political science. I don’t have time for a boyfriend and certainly not any notions of love.

“Zuko was looking for you!” Ty Lee plops down next to me on my beach towel. I had distanced myself from the others, saying I want to work on my “tan.” My skin is dark enough already, so anyone with eyes can see through my outright lie. Even Toph wouldn’t be fooled. Although I swear that girl detects falsehood by the catch in your breath or the rhythm of your heartbeat. Toph teases that she can predict the next earthquake through her feet, but I bet she would feel it before the rest of us do.

It takes a while for Ty Lee's comment to register. Why would Zuko be looking for me? He hasn’t spoken a word to me since we arrived. I’m pissed about this, actually, and two can play the game of cold shouldering.

“He found the surfboards,” Ty Lee continues. “Did you want to surf?”

I do love surfing. Mom taught me. Sokka hates it; the uncoordinated doofus always falls off. But I’m a natural, almost as if I can command the waves. I'll be the bigger person and call a truce on this no-talking thing. Maybe Zuko surfs, too.

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t even like the water! He looks at the ocean like it’s going to swallow him whole. This could put up a serious roadblock in our relationship, I mean—friendship! Gah, we don’t even have that! I’ve spoken exactly 17 words to him. Why do I know? Because I've replayed that stupid encounter in my head, thinking I could have said something much more interesting. It would be a miracle if creepy, sexy scar boy ever talks to me again. Like when he gave me a board, he just grunted. And I took it without saying thank you! I clearly suck monkeyballs at conversation.

“Katara?”

“Hmm?” Get ready for case in point.

“I think I gave you the wrong surfboard.”

All I can think about is how tight my wetsuit feels all of the sudden and how his golden eyes shimmer in the midday sun. Even the half-lidded one is so striking, like his gaze is on fire. Zuko barely says a few words and apparently possesses the power to melt my insides and freeze my brain all at the same time.

“Huh?” Yes, I know. Eloquent.

“I gave you my sister’s board,” Zuko continues, a slight flush rising to his cheeks. “From when she was younger. I didn’t know how experienced you were.”

So… he was watching me. Again.

He shrugs. “Um. Maybe you want to try my mother’s instead?”

My tongue feels thick, but somehow I manage. “Yeah. Sure. That’d be great.”

He hesitates before handing over the board, tracing the rail with long nimble fingers. I don’t recall Azula ever mentioning their mother, so I wonder.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’ll take good care of it.”

He simply nods, and while the sadness in his expression is fleeting, it did not go unnoticed.

I distance myself again at the beachside bonfire that night. I much prefer the cool ocean breeze whipping through my hair over the hot stifling smell of burning wood. From my vantage point on a rocky ledge nearby, I can see the group down below. Azula assembles the ingredients for s'mores, taking a little too much pleasure in stabbing marshmallows with long metal skewers.

Sokka and Suki are snuggled up together in the same position they were earlier. With her head tilted back and lips slightly parted, I can only guess what’s going on underneath their blanket. Ewww.

Zuko is wearing a Hawaiian print shirt and handing out lei necklaces of all things. I decide he is much more interesting to watch—so awkward and adorable. He tentatively places the flowers around Ty Lee’s neck, obviously trying to look anywhere besides the cleavage spilling from her bikini top. She gives him a peck on the cheek in response. It’s too dark to tell, but I bet his face has turned as red as our school mascot, the firedragon. I wonder if he knows that Ty Lee is into girls.

Zuko’s sister waves him away. Sokka and Suki are making out now, so he avoids them. He’s obviously searching for someone. Could it be me?

Mai.

That girl has complained nonstop since we got here. She hates the sand. She sunburns too easily. Ocean water makes her eyes sting. Zuko doesn’t pay enough attention to her. Zuko won’t leave her alone! UGH!

He gives her TWO leis. And she fucking rolls her eyes at him. That’s it. I’m going for a walk on the beach.

I don’t know how long it’s been, but I have a tendency to lose track of time when I’m out here close to the water. My element.

Someone clears his throat. If he weren’t so wrapped up in his girlfriend—literally—I’d expect Sokka to start worrying and come find me. But no, this isn’t a concerned sibling visit.

“Missed you at the bonfire,” Zuko says.

“Yeah, sorry. I guess I don’t really like fire. It’s too—” Destructive. “—hot.” My throat feels tight again but not for the same reason as before. My thoughts have been... drifting.

“I like fire. As long as it’s controlled.” His voice is sexy as fuck, but surprisingly I am able to find mine this time.

“Well, anything out of control is a bad thing, right?” Control is everything. That’s why I work so hard to maintain it.

“Makes sense. I don’t really like the ocean for that reason. The waves seem… uncontrollable. Or controlled by a force that we can’t wield.”

Ah, he likes his control, too. “The waves are controlled by the moon,” I say.

“I know, and the moon is untouchable. At least with fire, humans can light it, contain it, and put it out. Y’know?”

“I think I’d trust the moon over a man with a match any day.”

He regards me for a few seconds with those sad, striking eyes of his, then laughs. “Maybe so.”

He turns to leave, and I’m searching my brain for something, anything to say to make him stay. I want to hear him laugh again.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” He’s suddenly back in my field of vision, and he’s closer than ever before. He smells like campfire and chocolate, and I didn’t think it possible, but those eyes are now smoldering. My breath catches as he gently places a lei around my neck; I shudder when warm fingers brush past my left ear.

He’s gone, and I discover this is no cheap party store necklace, either. The flowers are real, and their fragrance is intoxicating. I might feel high for a different reason, though.

“If you don’t like the ocean, then why did you apply for this position?” I’m basically high on two cups of coffee and a cocoa almond flaxseed energy bar. I’ve been anxiously waiting for our internship to start. We’re already on a boat first thing, and Zuko is gripping the side of it for dear life. Hahn immediately and shamelessly attached himself to Yue like a barnacle to a buoy, so it is only Zuko and me positioned here portside.

“It’s for PR,” he replies.

“What?”

He sighs. “Look, you wouldn’t understand.”

I don’t think his knuckles could get any whiter… or his face any greener. I can’t help but worry.

“Are you gonna be OK?” I ask when he’s clearly not.

“Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No.”

“Can you maybe… explain? I can try to understand.” I stare at the right side of his face, chiseled and flawless. Admittedly, he’s beautiful. It's my turn to sigh.

His eyes remain fixated on the water below. “OK… it’s for my father’s business. To improve his reputation. It looks good for tech companies to support noble causes, give back to the environment. My father thinks I’m useless as an employee, so this is how he wants me to restore honor to the company name.”

“Oh.”

Even though I am mesmerized by his perfect profile, his statement doesn’t settle well with me at all. Of course, I want the position so it will look good on my college applications, and maybe that's a little selfish and not that much different. But I also care about the important stuff we're doing. Nobody ultimately goes into nonprofit work for personal glory, right? Maybe people do it to feel good about themselves, but somehow I know this is not Zuko's intention in this situation. It won't be fulfilling unless he feels something for it.

“Is that how you see it? As just a job to make your father look good?” I ask.

“Katara… I just need to… survive, OK? I need to graduate, get into a good college, so I can get the hell out of here.”

“But… you’ve got the education position at the Marine Center. How can you teach what you don’t really believe in?”

“I got that position because I have a ton of Future Fire Technology branded freebies to hand out when I go visit places. I’m telling you, Katara. It’s all about PR.”

But it’s not! It’s about speaking truth! And saving lives! And changing minds! That’s what Mom used to…

I can’t look at him anymore. I just can’t. I can only look at our reflections in the water and fight the urge to push him overboard.

What if he can’t swim, though? Is that why he’s afraid?

I look at his pained expression once again, and it seems like he’s already drowning.

The setting is modern day California, specifically Silicon Valley where HS kids are super stressed about stuff like internships because the tech culture is all around them, and Stanford and UC Berkeley are the “local schools.” Ember Island is like Angel Island; it exists solely for recreational purposes. The Marine Science Center is based on two real-life organizations in the Bay Area.

Chapter Three: Steamy  | Chapter Four: The Fall

#zutara week #zutara week 2017 #zkweek #zkweek2017

[pandabearlikes]

My Husband, Kim JunMeow

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Chapter o1. Kim JunMeow

I hate cats.  Cats are atrocious, selfish little monsters who leave your costly business attire looking like you slaughtered a bear and your airways choking of fur balls.  

"What do they even do?  Eat, sleep, poop.  Repeat."

“Luxury life, you jelly?” my cat lover friend, Lila, clicks her pen against my temple and jeers.

“Pftt.  Of their smelly butts?  Why would I be?” I roll my eyes and collected my Chemistry textbooks from the library table.

“You’re just hating.  Cats are the cutest most cuddly creatures in this world,” she exaggerates with clasp hands against her cheeks and eyes that almost bulge out in animated hearts.

I shiver just thinking about all the entrapped saliva nestled in their fur.  My friend scoffs and begins to pack her bags as well.  It is the last semester of college and the last thing I want is to go to class but the last thing I could afford is to not go to class.  

“The world out there is your cat!” the dork leaps onto her feet and exclaims.

I smack my textbook shut in her face and amusingly correct, “You mean oyster??”  She grimaces from the intrusive breeze and pouts.  “'The world is your oyster’, it means we are all in the position to take opportunities life has to offer.”

The cherubic faced female raises her brow.

“…Because you can’t get the pearl without grinding and prying open the shell.  Some people settle for comfort and pick tiny, easy to open ones and end up with a dull rock.  Others choose to take the road less travelled, pick the biggest oyster, hammer, tear, and groove it until the mollusk reveals the flawlessly shiny one-of-a-kind pearl,” I recite with so much genuine poetic passion that I almost think I’m auditioning for a Shakespearean play.  I’d like to think Shakespeare would be proud of me.  

“No.  I did mean, ‘The world out there is your cat.’  Cats are priceless.  Pearls are not,” Lila counters.

I smack my face with my palm.  “I seriously hate cats,” I grunt under my breath.

“Well, don’t tell me I didn’t tell you, you’re gonna marry a cat one daaaay~” she singsongs.

“No, thank you, you crazy cat lady~” I play along and sing back as I skip my way through the library exit and wave goodbye to my dear friend.  

Books snuggled tightly against my chest, I slug my way to the lab to make up my Chemistry report. I had flunked it twice and it is my last chance if I didn’t want to spend my entire summer back here.

“Meow,” I hear a short purr from the bushes and skid to a stop.  “Meow~” the creature calls out to me.  Only its large circular eyes are visible from behind the shadows.  With a sharp inhale and wide-eyed with realization that said-smelly fur ball monster is right in front of me, I snap my neck to the other side and speed walk away.  

“Meow >:(,” the abandoned cat grunts and scampers back into the alley.  

~

“Ahh, I think I failed again,” I groan and blow concentrated air up at my now messy bangs.  Oh, woe, little miss damsel in distress who can’t seem to get the right amount of sulfite into the beaker or set the thermometer to beep at boiling point.

“What am I going to do with my life?” I dramatize and deflate.  “Should I start bribing the TA?” I mumble under my breath and anxiously bite my nails as I eye myself head to toe at the glass reflection of the campus building.  Hair disheveled and unwashed for three days, dark bags under my eyes, and jeans only God knows how long I haven’t washed for.  Life of a college science student~  What life.  WHAT LIFE?!?!  Even a rich geezer would steer far away, much more the young, handsome, and intelligent TA, Kim Jongdae.  Puffs of happy stars and fluttering butterfly hearts twirl in front of me at the thought of my crush's kitten smile.  

“He likes cats, you know that right?” Lila’s knowing advice replays in my mind and my shoulders slump.  

“No, not even for him, I wouldn’t—“ I start but my voice trails in projection at the sight of the twin glowing eyes reflected on the window.  Slowly, I turn around to come face to face with a white cat.  His luscious fur almost illuminates like holographic magic in the dead of the night.  

“GAHHH!” I shrill and run to hide behind a street lamp post.  

The feline’s marble-like eyes follow me with a striking intensity.  And from the bluish onyx hue, I instantly recognize it to be the same cat from before.  He approaches me, one paw at a time as I cower farther and farther behind my makeshift barricade, that really didn’t protect me much at all.  It’s a good placebo though.

“Wait, placebos are used in the context of medication, you Pabo,” I grumble to myself.  Ah, distress, pure distress of a science major who was too much of a chicken to spend eight years in Med school yet whose brain is wired in a way of a medical dictionary.  Oh woe, me.

“Meow!” the cat’s snappish call wakes me up from my own pessimistic thoughts.  

“Do-don’t get near me!” I order but the cat continues to advance, stopping right in front of me.  His fluffy paw lifts and he places it on the tip of my foot.  I hold my breath and almost lose my breath from anxiety.  Alright, alright.  I admit it, I have Ailurophobia a.k.a the irrational fear of cats.  It’s not that I hate them I just...  

“G-go…” I stutter.  The beautiful feline tilts his head and gazes up at me with a glint in his twinkling eyes.  “D-don’t make me kick you…” I make a false threat and wobble my foot that he had his palm placed on, hoping he would just let go.  

Instead, he places his other paw down too.  “Meow~”

“Stop,” I strictly say.  

“Meow :(“ his purr betrays his hurt.  Innocently, the kitty snuggles his entire body closer and settles down by using both of my feet as his cushion.  He looks up with puppy eyes…only, well…puppy eyes on a cat…yah…you know what I mean…I digress…He looks up with puppy eyes as if waiting for me to reject him but hoping I wouldn’t.

“Stop.  Don’t give me that look,” I frown, “I’m not taking you home.”  

Without letting him reply, I slide my feet backward to freedom.  The cat plops back down onto the concrete floor.  Frowning, I pull the straps of my backpack and start to walk home.  It is already past 11pm, which meant lingering any longer would be dangerous.

I take a step forward.  

“Meow~” the kitty whines, trailing my steps.  He swirls and twirls his way between my two feet and looks up with pure anticipation.  Again, I try to detach myself from this fur ball monster wearing a cute angelic face as a disguise.  He latches on with both paws around my right ankle.  I groan.

“Look kitty…there’s a bunch of cat lovers around here,” I explain with exasperation.  Pointing straight down the street, I persuade, “If you continue down this road and make two lefts and see a peach brick house, stop and meow loudly, a crazy cat lady will take you in.”

“Meow :(“ he grunts and lowers his head.  He licks his front paws and then looks up at me again.  

“Her name is Lila and she’s a little weird but she’s very caring and would adore you…” I elaborate.  “So go on your way…” I shoo and start to walk again.  Again, he follows.  I skid to a stop and try to persuade him again.  This happens for another half an hour before I give up and just head home pretending there isn’t a clingy feline tailing me.  

In front of my house, I try to distract the cat as best as possible so I could unlock the door, slip in, and slam it before he could follow me in but he holds onto my legs and begs in meows.  It is a bit chilly tonight and soft drizzles only showed potential to turn into a heavy rain storm.  Momentary hesitation equals an opportunity for the fluff ball.  He squeezes through the door gap and dashes into my apartment.  Groaning, I toss my head back in resignation.  

“It really isn’t the time for this…” I heave and head in as well.  Too tired from the day of studying and testing and failing and trying to get rid of a cat, I end up just plopping down onto the sofa.  Arms outstretched wide and head thrown back, I think about surrendering and being a cry baby for one day.  You know, the possibility of not graduating in time is quite daunting even if it does sound like #firstworldproblems.  On the other hand, unlike me, this cat curiously wanders around and makes himself at home.  

“Well, I’m tired, Kitty.  I’m calling it a night.  You be good and I’ll drop you off at the animal shelter tomorrow morning, okay?” I bargain.  

Lethargically, I drag myself to my room and toss my dead weight against the bed.  Soft whimpers fleet from my lips.  I snuggle my way into my blanket cocoon.  Flying sheep are seconds from sending me to sweet slumber when I feel a furry paw against my nose.  My eyes shot open.

“No. Stay on floor,” I discipline, lift the bad boy up, and put him onto the ground.  I roll back into my comfy bed…only seconds later, I feel a soft tug against my blanket.  My lips part and I gather up the last of my patience to scold the little monster, when I notice its choppy tugs.  He had grabbed onto the corner of my blanket with his teeth and was slowly pulling it to cover my shoulders.  My expressions soften without my permission.  When he finally deems it a good job tucking me in, the amicable creature leaps back down to the floor and tries to build his own warm bed by curling his tail around his body.  So innocent and vulnerable.  A tinge of guilt penetrates through my heart.  

“You want a blankie?” I question, my voice a little gentler than before.  

The cat surprises me by shaking his head, as if fully comprehending my question.  Chewing on my inner cheek, I spring up, grab a cushion from my chair, and place it on the floor next to him.

“You can use it as a bed.”

Again, he shakes his head.  I frown.

“The floor’s extra cold tonight because of the rain outside…” I observe but the feline tilts his head and doesn’t make the move to accept my offer.

Sighing, I inquire, “You want a towel or a soft t-shirt or a plushie to snuggle with?” I look around my room for some cat-friendly items.  That's when I squint and notice the leather band around his neck.  "Oh, hey…you have a collar.  Are you not a stray?” I kneel down and observe the pendant.  Sadly, the age and rust of the metal tampers much of the information’s legibility.  

Kim Su---

Instead of answering my question, he wraps his paws around my arm, tugs me closer, and tries to nestle on my lap.  I toss my head back and groan at this troublesome cat.  “I should just toss you out,” I grumble under my breath.

As if understanding my words, the cat instantly lets go of my arm.  His eyes glosses over and he melts against the floor as if sulking.  

“I was only joking!” I quickly back track.  "It is pouring cats and dogs outside, I’m not that heartless…” I reassure and somehow instinctively outstretch my palm to pet him on the head.  He likes it very much, much more than I had imagined.  With a long sigh, I scan my bed.  “You want to climb on the bed?”

The corners of his lips curl up and he jumps up and down with joy.  Chuckling, I surrender and hop onto the bed.  He follows suit.

“Stay at the foot of the bed,” I half-heartedly instruct with a yawn.  The white fluff obediently stays at the spot for about two minutes, before he sneaks his way toward my shoulder.  “I said, ‘Foot…of…the…bed…’” my voice slurs due to my sleepiness.  Dozing in and out, I recall him nestling comfortably at the croak of my neck.  Automatically, my body cuddles around the warm guest, who lays the final magical touch to my sweet dreams.

~

My tongue smacks against the top of my mouth palate as I half-consciously try to moistens the dryness.  Whimpering, I roll around in my sheets, hoping to stretch out my sore muscles before the alarm clock shrills anxiety back into my life.  One more satisfying stretch and I open my eyes to a good morning—

“AHHH!” I shriek at the sight of a stranger sleeping beside me.  Automatically, my body chooses flight over fight; I back away so hastily, my body crashes from the bed onto the floor.  The chaotic noise awakens the man.  

Long lashes flutter open.  His movements are fluid and graceful as he rolls out his shoulders and sits himself upright on my bed.  He stares at my astonished state with the tilt of his head and several innocent blinks.  Heaving air back into my frightened lungs, I reflexively lift the blanket from my body and look down.  Just a thin cami and PJ pants, not naked.  Not naked.  Whew.

“So nothing happe—“

The young man stands up, letting his blanket fall fluidly down his broad chest, chiseled abs, and…

My eyes widen and lips drop agape.  Heart pound against my chest.  Front row seats to Magic Mike would be an understatement.  The foreign male stands there, completely oblivious to my bewilderment.  He starts to advance toward me, inch by inch.  I almost choke myself to death by swallowing the lump in my throat.  

“Wh-wuh…who…who are you?!” I panic, scoot myself backward, and recoil against the wall.  He stops a foot from me with his exposed manly goods literally, right in front of my face.  My eyes bulge.  I swallow again, my head starts to spin.  Mouth opens wide - out of shock, I SWEAR out of shock, you dirty minded readers.    

Just then, I hear keys jiggle outside from the front door.  My name rings from the familiar voice of my mother.  Gasping, I turn to the man, who turns back to me with a blank stare.  Maniac panic ensues.  Footsteps click against my wooden living room floor.  Jerking up to my feet, I grab onto the man’s wrist, yank him, and throw him on the bed.  The sheets are tossed on top of him.

“Hey, Sweetie—“ my mother pushes open the door of my room and greets but immediately could smell the fishie fishiness.  

Nervously, I try to cover up my scandalous act and the very visible random lump on my mattress by literally sitting on top of it and pretending it’s all cushion.  Immediately, I regret such decision as I had so coincidentally place my bum right on his manhood.  It throbs through the sheets against my left back thigh and I have to bite my lower lip to keep calm.  

“Hi, Mum…heh…” I nervously ruffle my hair.

“Why do you look so guilty?” she narrows her eyes.  

“Oh-oh…N-no..not at all.”  Needless to say, I fail at my pursuit of a Degree in Deception.  My hiccup attack, thereafter, doesn’t help much either.  “Ju-just…hic-  Just sur hic- prised you came to vi hic- sit without notice…heh…”  No slick, what so ever.  

Nothing I do passes my mother’s eyes.  The sharp and observant female charges into the room, shoves me aside, and throws the cover away.  I shriek; my arms outstretch out of reflex.  Thankfully, the handsome sexy…no…focus…man gripped onto the covers before she exposed his lower region.

My full name bellows from my mother’s lips and I’m clawing my hair coming up with an excuse to cover up my possible one-night stand and not get ass-whipped by the conservative Catholic woman.  Growing up, I was taught that sex before marriage was not allowed.  

“Who is he?!” the furious woman interrogates as she takes note of how scantily clad I am too.  She sniffs the room as if trying to gather evidence of the shameful act.  Automatically, my hands lift up in a pose of surrender, though I had no intention to actually admit to her suspicions.  The gorgeous man across from me gazes in my direction with an innocent stare and a sweet, honeyed smile that contradicts his sexy Devil’s bodayyy.  I spend a moment too long ogling over his features that my mother snaps at me again.    

“I-uh…I…” Beads of tears start to coat my lashes.  

“You have some explaining to do, Young Lady.  I’m calling your father!” the middle-aged woman warns and starts punching numbers on her phone.

“No-no…MUM…” I choke.  Squeezing my eyes shut, my lips automatically move on their free will, “He’s my husband!”  

The phone drops from my mother’s hand.  Internationally, I face palm.  Really?!  That was the worse possible damage control ever.  The attractive man blinks.  He gifts me another sweet smile when he catches my gaze.  Immediately, I look away because I tell myself I can’t be entranced or horny right now with my outraged tiger mom in front of me.    

With the twitch of her brows, the older female laces my name with full warning and seethes through her teeth, “We need to talk.”  I swear my butt crack began to perspire.  

Gulping hard with panic, I glance at the mysterious man as if begging for help, only not really expecting it.  You know, like, what could he really do?  I didn’t even know where he came from for God’s sake.  Was I drunk?  Is this a dream?  I didn’t like the latter thought because I’ve been so dry and thirsty that the wetness of my panties causes ecstasy in my boring life and the thought that I had to possible wake up from it is quite unfortunate.  Priorities, much?  It’s only worth it if I don’t first get strangled by my own mother.  At my stagnancy, the older woman scans my pretend husband and scoffs at the black collar-like choker around his neck.  

I squint.  Wait…I’ve seen that…somewhere—

It’s the third time my full name rips from her throat and I know I’m in the deepest trouble I’ll ever be in.  Wiping my clammy hands against my pants, I turn to my mother and begin to push her out the door.  Blundering words escape my lips, “I’m sorry mom, I’ll explain.  I’ll call you later!  I swear!”  

“You got married?!” she shrills in disbelief.  

“Yes.  I mean No.  I mean…Yes…”  What has gotten into me?  I must be out of my damn mind or otherwise possessed.  Closing my eyes shut, I continue to direct her toward the door.

“You got married and did not tell your father or me?!” the woman scolds and then heaves, “How long have you even known that man?!  Do you know his character?!  What if he’s a stripper?  What is his name?!  I’m going to have your father investigate him!”

“Uh-I…I’ll tell you later.  Mum, can you leave first?” I nervously plea.

“Give me a name or I’m not leaving!” the female adamantly states.

Ah, stress.  STRESS.  Just as I am brainstorming a list of fake names to use, the strange male walks out with a blanket tied around his hip, and answers, “My name is Kim JunMeow.”  

A/N: Yo! I’m back (≚ᄌ≚) Did you guys miss me?  Did you enjoy the first chapter of the new series?  This is probably the only “slower” paced chapter because I had to introduce the situation but chapters here on after are fast-paced and eventful ;);) Also, do you guys like my sassy tone more or my more artistic/poetic writing?  Do share your opinions!

P.S. For the record, cats are my favorite animals in this entire world, surpassing even pandas + bunnies, and you guys know I love the latter two.  

Follow, like, comment, spam my inbox to motivate me.  Daily updates; see you tmr.

>>My Husband, Kim JunMeow Archive<<

>>Story Master Archive<<

Any guesses on what happened in this chapter??

#exo #suho #suho scenario #suho smut #suho scenarios #exo scenario #exo scenarios #suho fanfic #exo fanfic #suho fanfiction #exo fanfiction #junmyeon #kpop fanfiction #pandabearlikes #my husband kim junmyeon

[poisonedpan]

Toilet Bowl - 02/2015 - Section 25

HAPPY NEW YEAR.

January was a breeze. I spent most my days working. I didn’t go back to school after we returned from break. I didn’t even want to. I didn’t need a degree for theatre. So I didn’t see a point in it. Graduating from school wasn’t going to offer me a role in a play or a movie. It was just wasting my time and money. I spent a majority of my time being faded at my drug dealers house. It was the only escape I had from living with Brady. I don’t know where it went wrong, maybe it was Halloween or maybe it wasn’t. I just hated living there. We rubbed each other the wrong way nonstop. I felt uncomfortable living in the place that I paid rent for. Hanah asked if I wanted to move in at the beginning of February. That would honestly help my drug problem, and maybe it would even help my outlook on life. I obviously said yes. I spent so much time over at her house anyway that it would be more beneficial, plus we get along. I didn’t know how to break the news to Brady. I literally let it sit at the edge of my mouth until a week before I was going to move out. Kind of shady. I knew that rent was going to be a bitch for him, but at the same time it didn’t really bother me. Brady treated me like a mat on the ground the last few months. He’d act like it was his room and he was nice enough to let me live there. I wasn’t the kind of person that confronted or fought, because I thought it was awkward enough living with someone who clearly didn’t want to live with you. So I let him do it. I let him do it, because I knew that in a week I was going to be living with someone else, and he was going to have to figure out what to do now. I didn’t regret it. I wasn’t depressed. I wasn’t happy though. I came back from break just filling lonely. I didn’t know what it was that I was missing. I missed my parents, obviously. I just didn’t want to live with them. I didn’t know where I wanted to go with my life anymore. Did I really want to be jumping from room to room in San Francisco, while going to school and working? I wasn’t even in school anymore. I didn’t know how anyone ever got ahead in life. I wasn’t depressed. I wasn’t happy. I was just more lost than I’d ever been. Hanah helped me move out of Brady’s house. Brady wasn’t one of those people that would give a helping hand, especially if it was something that made him mad. He acted like he didn’t want me to leave. But before I told the news to him, he had acted like a dick to me. I felt bad for the way our friendship started to run into the ground. I wouldn’t ever say he was a bad person, or a bad friend. He was there for me a lot when nobody else was. There was just something about our chemistry right now that made me feel overwhelmed or suffocated. I just needed to get out. We invited him to the Toilet Bowl. The Toilet Bowl is this SuperBowl party that Ocean Matt throws every year. I felt great about being invited to it. I felt like on some level, I was part of their group. I don’t know why these small gestures still meant so much to me considering I had hungout with them for half a year now, and even lived with most of them. It was just good to feel like I had friends. We went to the Toilet Bowl. Hanah and I drank early in the day. I brought some vodka, and there was beer there anyway. I started to curve my smoking meth with hanging out with good friends, and letting myself not feel sorry for myself. I wasn’t in that bad condition. I just had some scratches and scars, but nothing was still hurting me. Indiana wanted to play sports, and I sat back and watched. We smoked some pot, and I let the sun take away any negative thought that would intricate my mind for the next twenty-four hours. Brady eventually showed up. As well as a few other people that were apart of this group. I liked spending time with these people. Regardless of if I was in school or not, I was still working. I wasn’t just sitting around the house, smoking pot and drinking all the time. I felt like I was going to be okay. The game started and we all sat on the bleachers as it was broadcasted on a TV. I wasn’t even into Football that much. Although, I really did like the halftime shows. I was one of those kind of fans. Katy Perry isn’t someone that I’d call myself a fan of. She had a few songs that I would overplay, but there wasn’t anything special about her to me. Her halftime show was cute, but didn’t even compare to past ones. Although, I gave her props for being the singer that they chose this year. I felt pretty buzzed during half the game. I wasn’t ashamed of how much I had drank, because that was something that I wanted to do. I wanted to drink that much. The rest of the night involved us helping load up the tables, chairs and the TV. I spent my time flirting with cute boys, and trying to find more access to alcohol or pot. If the Toilet Bowl was like this every year, then I found myself a tradition that I wanted to always be a part of. I went to bed early that night. I felt tired from the day drinking and smoking all day. I didn’t care if it was five in the afternoon, or midnight. I let my soul go to rest. A few days later, I wanted to go to a party with Marissa. Marissa and Jackie were these funny girls that lived by State. I’ve found myself drinking partners. That’s most of what we did. The party was great. They always played music that I didn’t know, and there were always cute guys there. Beer pong or other games was all over the tables. People outside smoking cigarettes or pot. I found myself getting lost in the life of the party every single time. I was outside talking to this girl named Emerald. She had green hair at the time. I’ve seen her a couple of times, but not enough to say that I know her well. She knew me though. Most of the people here knew that I had a problem with meth. Most people didn’t know how much I did it. The word got spread by me telling people a while ago, and then other people telling other people. It wasn’t something that I wanted everyone to know. I didn’t want this whole party to know what I was doing. I felt like they would judge me. Nobody likes meth heads. Regardless of if you do it once every year, or once a day, people hear the word meth and put this label on you. They see you differently. It doesn’t matter how often you do it. You still do it. “You should really stop,” Emerald said. She pressed her cigarette to her lips, and I rolled my eyes. I’ve heard the same shit from so many people. So many people don’t get that it’s not an addiction. It’s just something I sometimes do. People smoke cigarettes. I smoke glass. People kill people. I clear glass pipes. People snort cocaine. I snort rocks. We all have our demons. “I know,” I said, just letting her tell me how wrong it was for me to do it. I don’t think people understand that I didn’t really want to smoke meth. I’ve tried to stop contacting my dealer, but sometimes I have these days where my life feels like shit. I just wanted to fly. “Chance, for real,” she said. She took the cigarette away from her mouth. She looked at me, unlike anybody else has ever looked at me. “You’re such a pretty guy. You’re gorgeous. Don’t let that fuck up your face, and your life. You’re way better than that.” I could hear people tell me to stop all day. It all sounded like words coming in one ear and out the other. Emerald said something that got stuck in my ear, and just let it replay inside my head. The words connected with my brain for the first time and I didn’t know what to say. She started to tear up. Emerald was the first person that told me to stop, and made me feel like she actually meant it. I didn’t feel like smoking the rest of my cigarette anymore. I didn’t feel like drinking. I’ve placed myself so far in the back of my mind with the rest of my demons and figured out what the fuck is wrong with me. Who would’ve thought some girl that I barely knew outside of a party would be the reason that I woke the fuck back up. I needed it though. I spent the next few days, sitting alone on the pier or at the beach. I just wanted to think. What do you want? I wanted a house, with real friends. I wanted to put myself through therapy again because of my depression and my dabbling with meth. I wouldn’t call it an addiction. I don’t think that I did it enough for it to even be considered an addiction. I just wanted to stop doing it completely. I didn’t do it, because I felt like I needed to. I just wanted something to take off my edge, or make me feel like I was floating through the world again. I hated feeling grounded to the wrong, strapped down to the reality of my problems and chained to this shit life. I wanted to fly. In order for me to fix my drug problem, I had to fix myself. “I want to put my two weeks in,” I said at work, a week later. Nikki looked at me, like I had lost my mind. I could tell that she didn’t know what to say. I could tell that I didn’t know what to say now either. The words fell out of my mouth, and I let my vocals do the talking. If I wasn’t going to back out of this, I had to not think about it. I had to not let anyone tell me that they could help me get through this. I’ve listened to people tell me that, and then I fake my happiness and pretend nothing is wrong. Nothing ever changes. I had to do this. I had to be able to do this for myself. “Are you sure?” she asked. Was I sure this is what I wanted? No. It wasn’t what I wanted. Deep down, maybe it was. I kept thinking about all the pros and cons of living in San Francisco right now. It’s not my time. I thought about doing meth with all my drug dealer friends, getting fucked by strangers in order to feel numb. I thought about the girl crying that I’m going to ruin my face. I thought about my mom being alone, because my dad lives in Arizona for the next year. I thought about Drew, dealing with all of her problems right now. I thought about Billie graduating. I thought about my life sitting on pause while the rest of the world is rotating around me. “I need this,” I said. We went in the back to file the paperwork. I started to break down and tell her everything that was wrong. “I want to get help.” Nikki was like a second mom to me. It was hard for me to talk to adults in San Francisco, as I didn’t really know any. Nikki was always worried about me. She knew the kinds of people that I hung around with when the sun goes down. She’s seen strangers harass me at work, wanting me to get off so we can ‘talk.’ She’s always had my best interest. She’s always wanted me safe. “I’m happy that you’re going home, but I don’t want you to go,” she said sadly. The more the paperwork filled out, the more I was ready to leave. I started to see a light at the end of this tunnel, and I knew that somewhere in Florida I was going to find myself again. I was going to realize what I wanted to do. Things were going to get better. I didn’t tell Hanah immediately. I didn’t really know how to. I literally had just moved in with her. I felt like I was coming down from drugs even harder than I normally do. It must be because I was tired of doing them. Drugs are cool and all, but sometimes your body just can’t keep up. I felt tired. I felt tired of these same conversations, of the same routine, of the same glass pipe and the same feeling that it doesn’t get better. I needed it to get better. Once the news broke to Hanah, we spent more time together. We smoked more and drank more. We’d go on Taco Bell or Jack in the Box runs at 2am to fulfill our desires. We’d hike up hills, play on playgrounds. We’d sing musicals all night. I wanted to make these next few weeks go by so smoothly. I didn’t want to leave a bad impression of the city on me. I wanted to remember all the good times that I had here, so one day I would be able to come back. I desperately needed it. Hanah and I went to this party with her friends. I remember playing Mario Kart and then beer pong. I don’t remember drinking that much but somehow I got fucked up. Hanah and I were sitting outside, smoking. We shotgunned the smoke into each other, and that led to us making out. Hanah and I had a weird friendship. Making out wasn’t a big deal to either of us, or at least it didn’t seem that way. It was just making out. We made out a lot that night. I had a feeling when we got back to her house. We were going to fuck. I was okay with it. At least I’d be having sex with someone that I genuinely liked instead of some stranger. We didn’t though. She went to the bathroom, and I ended up passing out. Who knows what would’ve changed if we would have fucked that night. Maybe nothing would have. My last day in San Francisco. I spent with Tara and her roommates. We drank and smoked at her house. Tara and I had grown to be close. Tara is one of those people that you instantly click with, regardless of if you have anything in common. She understands me. We took a bunch of photos and I let myself feel some sort of emotions today. I didn’t really want to leave, but I felt like I had to. I had given so many pieces to San Francisco, and ended up leaving myself with nothing. I felt empty, broken and I just wanted to feel warm again. I wanted to be able to feel again. I’ve spent so much time trying to find ways to numb the pain, that it ended up getting rid of any feeling at all. I’ve spent these last few months like a soulless ghost, walking around the city. I want to be able to feel something again. I want happiness. I want love. I don’t have either of those things right now. Hanah, Indiana and I went to the airport. We blasted Blank Space by Taylor Swift as that was our song. Blank Space in 2014-2015 was arguably one of the best songs that came out. Regardless of what you think about Taylor Swift, everyone fucked with that song. We sang at the top of our lungs, and I locked this memory away as one of the best last memories I would have here. I got to the airport. I took a deep breath, as I wasn’t sure that I would ever make it out here again. I didn’t know where my life was going to take me. I wasn’t sure that I would even want to come back to the city. I hugged Hanah and then Indiana, and then let them leave. I sat by my gate, and waited. I watched people board their planes. I watched them hug people goodbye. I didn’t feel sad about leaving. I was kind of looking forward to spending more time on the beach with my Florida friends. I didn’t know where I was going, or who I was anymore. I was just excited to figure it out.

#personal #booozeboy #poison #chance conley #journal #superbowl #florida #san francisco #meth