#//yeah with most things she’s pretty careful so a cautious driver makes sense for her

[laviexenrose]

Their eventful night had concluded in a sleepy, wonderful daze of shared mumbles and tired laughter. Isabelle felt as though she had melted in Ben’s arms. And when they awoke, she couldn’t remember a time where her limbs felt so languid and sore, but in the best way possible.

…

As the car whizzed past them, she scoffed quietly underneath her breath. She didn’t know why people insisted on driving reckless or faster than the posted speed limit. Were they purposefully trying to get themselves in an accident? The cars behind her could switch lanes, if they wished. Having Ben’s comfort at the forefront of her mind, she wasn’t going to speed just because everyone else was doing it.

“They should,” Isabelle huffed out, shaking her head a little, disapprovingly. It had been two years since she received her driver’s license, and before then, she didn’t know people usually drove faster than the speed limit on highways. “Most people don’t follow the traffic laws the way they’re supposed to.”

She glanced over at Ben, realizing just how colorless his face had become since they continued their journey on the road. “Are… Are you sure you’re alright? You don’t look so good. I could always pull over, if you need me to, or i-if you have to throw up.” Her eyes quickly moved to the road once more before moving back to him and then finally on the road. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all, and maybe Ben might have fared better on a train rather than a vehicle on an open road, though maybe not…

At his question, Isabelle checked the estimated time of arrival on the GPS. “Not very much,” she assured him. “It says we’ll be arriving in twenty minutes… which isn’t so bad. Where in Setauket are we going first? Did you have some place in mind?”

Expression softening, Ben’s eyes roved Isabelle’s face and he cupped her cheek, gently dragging his thumb across her lips. "I’ll tell them the truth,” he lowly said. “I fell during battle, but was taken in and saved by a stranger…an angel.” With a sheepish grin, he stroked along the curve of her cheek. “Surely, I would not be condemned too harshly for staying away to heal? To find love?”

But he would – he knew he would, and Ben would absolutely not blame his friends and father for being angry. He could already hear their furious words – You could have at least written a note! – but knew this painful lie was better than having them believe him insane.

Catching her hand when it pressed over his heart, Ben darted his gaze in between her eyes and chin before admitting, “I didn’t truly have faith until I found you… I’d been dwindling, falling for years, uncertain of my path and almost self-destructive in my search for self-worth. So yes, I suppose I was ‘of little faith’ before you. And now I am endlessly indebted to your love for reminding me of what truly matters.”

The topic change to motor carriages was a bit jarring, but welcome, and most especially with Isabelle’s vibrant, silvery giggles alighting his heart as she curled against his chest. Brushing his nose over hers, Ben grinned. “Perhaps if you accompanied me back to my time, you wouldn’t find carriage rides quite so romantic.” Grazing their lips, he assured her, “But no, I wouldn’t deny you a carriage ride – I would just be constantly trying to divert you towards something else.”

“I’m glad you came back for me.”

No matter how many times Isabelle reaffirmed his fears, Ben couldn’t help but feel his heart pirouette gracelessly within his chest, a bashful warmth spreading through his cheeks as she redeclared her love. Leaning into her kiss, he melted into her touch and curled his fingers through her hair, angling in more strongly before she pulled away to whisper the fervent, “Toujours,” between their lips.

“Toujours,” he murmured back, nuzzling her. He could never doubt this – he could never doubt her – and wrapping Isabelle up in his arms with an eager desperation to touch, consume, feel, Ben shivered beneath the heated press of her mouth and the slow, purposeful grind of her hips.

Mirroring the eagerness of her kiss, he licked into her mouth and tightened his grip on her waist, withdrawing with a breathless laugh. “We might come from different worlds, but I’m fairly certain this does not mean rest,” he murmured, chuckling. An impish grin alit his own gaze, and then he wrestled her down underneath him, devouring her shrieks of laughter in a kiss.

–

After one pleasing “rest” later, Isabelle finally coaxed Ben into getting inside a motor carriage, and Lord above, it was far more terrifying than anything he’d ever before experienced. He had gone into battle – he had stared hell right in the very face – and yet it was this that he found so positively upending.

Gripping the grab handle on his side of the car, Ben squeezed his eyes shut when yet another infernal motor carriage whizzed past, clearly impatient with their speed. “Why are they racing us?” he demanded. “Don’t they know these metal beasts are unstable?”

Pale and quivering, he opened his eyes again, only to immediately close them due to the overwhelming dizziness on either side of his head. How could Isabelle stand this constant movement? He’d never seen anything move so quickly in all his life!

“How much farther?” he weakly asked, feeling a touch nauseous.

[inkandpen22]

Shared Minds and Shared Souls (7/?)

Pairing: Spike x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mention of past trauma, fluff 

Word Count: 1.8k

Part Summary: Y/N is doing everything in her power to get back to normal and recover. However, when Dawn goes missing, she’s stuck having to ask the one person she knows can help (though she hates to admit it). 

Masterlist

Sitting on the floor of the living room, I place each healing crystal ranging from rose quartz to jade neatly in a circle around me. The strong scents of peppermint and lavender fill my senses as the oils radiate from my anointed hands. These elements will help me heal both physically and mentally. It will be a tedious process, but I hope that I’ll eventually be as strong and powerful as I was previously. Closing my eyes, I do my best to focus and internalize my thoughts. Every part of healing is internalized. I have to channel the healing power from these elements and transfer them to myself.

As I sit in silence meditating, I start to hear a faint buzzing sound. This is good, it means the spell is working. I’ll have to do this each day for a certain amount of time until I feel recovered.

The front door creaks open, distracting me for a second. I return my attention back to my task. If I slip, I’ll have to start over. Besides, it’s probably just Dawn getting home from school. She insisted on walking home today and I didn’t put up a fight. The girl has been through enough already and could use some space to breathe.

“Dawn?”

I hear Joyce traveling down the stairs to greet her youngest in the foyer.

“No, it’s me,” Buffy replies.

My eyes snap open and the crystals that were floatings around me fall to the wood floor with scattered thuds.

“But where’s Dawn?! Is she with you?!” Joyce rushes out, already panicked.

“She isn’t home yet?!” Buffy questions.

“No!” Joyce frets.

I gather my belongings together and set them aside, no healing today for me. It’s alright, I can survive another day all off-balanced, what else is new. I join Joyce and Buffy in the foyer, reaching for my jacket on the hook. The two of them turn to me.

“Where are you going?” Buffy questions.

“Going to go find Dawn,” I explain plainly, slipping on my leather jacket.

“But you’re still recovering,” Joyce ever so kindly reminds me.

Someone has to go find Dawn and these two are just standing here going back and forth.

“Someone has to do it,” I remark, sounding unintentionally snarky.

“Use a tracking spell!” Buffy suggests as if I haven’t already thought of that.

“I’m too weak. My intuition, along with everything else, is all out of wack,” I grumble, annoyed with my useless state.

“Then I’m coming with,” Buffy declares, already setting down her things from school.

“Peachy,” I mutter, already heading out the door. “You take the north side of town and I’ll take the south,” I instruct Buffy on the way to my car. “Call Willow to have her be on the lookout. I’ll check in with Xander and Anya, Dawnie may have gone over there.”

Buffy grabs my forearm, stopping me on the sidewalk in front of her house. “Why didn’t you pick her up from school today?!”

I raise my brows at her, the audacity of this girl. Is she seriously trying to accuse me of something? Who was the one who saved Dawnie’s ass last week and nearly lost my mind because of it?

I pull my keys out of my pocket and unlock my car with a snicker. “Don’t start with me, Buffy,” I warn her with a dismissive grin. “Let’s just find your sister.”

She releases my wrist and I jog to the driver’s side of my car. Climbing in, I immediately turn on my radio, blasting alternative rock. Buffy runs down the sidewalk, heading north. Geez, I was right. The sooner I can get out of this town and save everyone’s ass, the better.

___________________________________

As the sun starts setting, I’m running out of places to check. Xander and Anya haven’t seen Dawn all day. The achy feeling in my gut is growing with each passing minute. Dammit, why didn’t I just pick her up from school?! I slap my hands against the wheel of my car, screaming at the top of my lungs. If Dawn is fucking hurt, it’s going to be my fault and everything is already my fault! First, I go and get my head scrambled like damn eggs by Glory. Then, I fuck things up with Spike which were already pretty fucked up already now that I think about it. Finally, it’s my fault that Dawn is missing!

Wait, Spike! He’s the last person I feel like seeing right now, but he might be able to help! After the other day, when he said what he did and Buffy came in, he ran off. He never came back. Oh screw it! Ignoring the laws of the road entirely, I do an illegal U-turn in the middle of the road, whipping back in the direction of the cemetery. I guess I’m making a late visit to Bleach Head.

_____________________________________

Without invitation, I barge into Spike’s crypt. I’ve never actually been here before, never having the pleasure of a visit. However, Buffy’s told me a million times about it, so it wasn’t hard to find.

“Spike!” I shout for the peroxide crazed vampy. “Dawn’s missing, I need-”

I halt, my eyes land on Spike and Dawn sitting across from one another on a casket vault. What the actual hell? Spike’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as I slowly approach the duo.

“Y/N!” Dawnie squeals with excitement. “Spike was just telling me the most intense story!”

My eyes remain on Spikes as I stand beside my young cousin. “Is that so? What about?”

“Oh it was nothing,” Spike is quick to hurry along with the conversation.

“It’s so suspenseful!” Dawn gushes.

“I don’t think Y/N cares to-”

She interrupts Spike, continuing to ramble. My attention fades as I look to Spike for some real answers. I haven’t seen him in a few days. He looks like shit. Well, he’s still gorgeous, but a little... well... undead. Spike nervously avoids my gaze, his eyes flickering between me and Dawn.

“Hey Dawn,” I interrupt her chatter calmly.

She hums, perking up.

“Could you wait for me outside? Your mom and Buffy are losing their shit and I need to get you home,” I explain, finally breaking free of Spike’s gaze to focus on Dawn.

“Oh great! So Buffy is just going to hell at me when I get home?!” She fusses with a whine.

“I’m not the one who decided to visit the cemetery on the way home with calling to let me know first,” I smirk at her with a knowing look.

She hops down from the vault with a huff and slings her back over her shoulder. “At least it was you who found me and not Buffy I guess,” she grumbles.

Abruptly, she grabs my arm in a panic. Why is everyone doing that today? Do I have a sign on my forehead that says ‘please grab me! I love to be touched!

“You’re not going to tell her where I was are you?!” She rushes out.

“You think I want Buffy yelling at me all night?” I sass, looking at her like she has three heads. “No way, you were at Janice’s, deal?”

“Deal,” she smiles and heads to the door. “Bye Spike!”

“Later Nibblet,” he hollers back before directing his attention to me.

“Go wait in the car!” I command. “No running off!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she repeats monotony, shutting the crypt door behind her.

Spike fiddles his rings, his head hanging low. I lean against the vault, crossing my arms over my chest. There’s a painful silence between us. Since the moment we met, there was never silence. When he thought I was Glory, we spoke. Even when we were fighting and arguing there was discussion. I’m unsure of what to say, but I’m certain I hate the silence.

“You’re... you’re very good with her,” he compliments quietly. “Nibblet.”

I swallow hard, finding myself wishing he would just look at me. Instead, he continues to avoid my eyes as he pulls himself a cigarette. I watch quietly as he lights it and takes a smoke.

“You are too,” I return the compliment in a whisper, lacking confidence.

His head slowly rises with surprise written on his features. Evidently, he didn’t expect me to exchange pleasantries. He forgets I’m not my cousin. I didn’t come here to yell at him or be bitter about everything. I’ve seen his memories, I’ve seen the cards he’s been dealt, and I understand. Why would I want to add to that mix? He’s been through enough and has caused enough suffering as it is.

Hesitantly, I approach Spike steadily. He sits uncharacteristically still with his sea-blue eyes locked on me. Slowly, I raise my hand reaching out for his cheek as my eyes search every aspect of his face. He cowers away slightly, avoiding contact for my sake. When I don’t flinch or show any signs of fear of the action, he relaxes. His brows scrunch together in faint confusion. I hover my fingers over my cheekbone, unable to actually touch him. The limitation frustrating me to high heaven. All I want to do is to touch him, feel him, yet I can’t.

My eyes glance back to his, his exquisite sea glass blue eyes. They flicker between my eyes and my lips. Compelled by him, I lean forward at a cautious pace bringing my lips closer to his. Spike hesitates, searching my eyes worriedly for any sign of second thoughts. Considering my hindered and weak state, I can’t blame him. It’s the only way we can touch and I need to touch him. He places his hand on my jacket covered arm, squeezing it gently. Then, he completes the remaining distance between us, pressing his lips to mine.

Closing my eyes, I see bright flashes of white and silver light. They’re bright like fireworks illuminating a dark sky and I feel an immense charge coursing through my body. Pressing my palm to Spike’s chest, I guide him back to rest against the vault. He complies, gripping my waist as I climb on top of him. No different than a rushing wave, it travels through my blood like a golden stream of life. I haven’t had this much energy in me since before Glory’s attack. My weak state is squashed and becomes a distant memory. As if I’m drinking from the Fountain of Youth, I can’t get enough. I lean into the sensation, deepening the kiss, craving more. I surrender to the glorious essence that consumes my body and soul. I let myself go and a jolt shocks me, causing me to break away. Sitting up, I catch my breath.

“Y/N!" Spike shouts my name beneath me.

I snap my head down, meeting his wide-eyed gaze.

"Your eyes,” he gasps, prompting himself up on one arm and holding me with his other. "They're... they're bright blue! Almost white even! Like bolts of lighting are circling in them!"

I blink rapidly and glance down at my hands. Strays of electricity travel between my fingers at random. I feel their charge and warmth. I snicker lightly, the overwhelming sensation makes me feel like I'm floating on a cloud. I've never felt so high and powerful in life. I could part the whole damn Pacific if I wanted to! God, this feels great!

_________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​ @hexmancia​

[purplesurveys]

1257

Have you ever watched a movie in class/school that made you cry?  Oh for sure. We had to watch It’s A Beautiful Life and I know I cried every single time I watched that movie, whether for school or on my own time.

What’s the earliest you could go to bed at night and feel okay about?  I don’t really get this question. I feel like it would make more sense if it asked how early I’m willing to wake up in the morning...? Anyway, I don’t pay attention to the time I sleep at night. Sometimes I’ll pass out as early as midnight, and sometimes I’ll be up until 3; it doesn’t matter to me.

What is you favorite type of lunch meat?  I’m not into those in general.

What time of the year do you dislike the most?  The heat in April and May is just brutal and uncalled for. It gets so hot and disgustingly humid and most times the aircon can’t even do much to quell it.

Do you put ketchup on your scrambled eggs?  Yeah, banana ketchup since that’s what we usually have a bottle of. Generally, I have banana ketchup with most of my breakfast dishes too.

What is your favorite color to wear? I don’t really have a favorite to wear those days mostly because I barely go out anyway and there’s been little need to update my closet.

Are you an overachiever?  Seems like the type of question you should be asking my parents, not me haha. Personally, though, I’m fairly proud of what I’ve accomplished.

What physical feature do you wish you had (i.e. freckles, curly hair)?  Maybe longer legs and smaller teeth, but I’m not exactly insecure about mine.

What fictional character (i.e. Bambi, Scarlette O'Hara) would you marry? Did you just raise the possibility of marrying a deer? Anyway...since I mentioned Two for the Road in the last survey, I’ll go with Mark from that movie. Seems like my type of partner. 

How long have you gone without shaving (girls- legs, armpits; boys- faces)?  With legs...around 2-3 weeks. Armpits, maybe about a week or so. Never more than a month for either.

What is the meanest thing you have ever said to someone else?  For the most part I’ve always been cautious of what I say; writing, on the other hand...I’ve written stuff on my diary wherein I let out all my frustrations against my mom. I know they were mean because she cried over them – but that also entailed snooping through my stuff, so I’ve never felt bad about it. I meant those things as I wrote them because it was my safe space, and she violated that. That’s on her.

Did you ever go through a phase where you wrote bad poetry?  I did, but I instantly realized it was bad so I stopped as soon as I began.

What is your favorite thing about your life?  How everything seems to have fallen in its place these days. There’s really little to complain about and I’m grateful for that.

Save all the animals that die during road kill or save 1 human from a fire?  Animals.

Have you ever painted a picture of somebody?  No.

How many real bfs/gfs have you had?  One.

Did you enjoy your past relationships?  I did.

Name a comedy that you like. White Chicks. << I love this choice, let’s just go with this one lol.

Could you wait until marriage for sex?  Sure.

What’s the best Nirvana song?  I don’t listen to them. I know a couple of songs but I don’t like them enough to be my favorites.

What was the last thing that impressed you?  The new Butter remix with Megan Thee Stallion.

When was the last time you were in a pet store?  Years, years ago.

What nationality is your last name?  Spanish or Portuguese, I’m not super sure.

What’s your favorite kind of chips and dip?  I never dip my chips; I just have them as is.

Who was the last boy that you saw cry?  Idk...maybe one of my cousins from one of our family reunions last year. I don’t get to be around a lot of boys or guys.

Does your mom know you do surveys?  No. I’ve never had to raise it and I can’t see a situation where I would have to.

Have you ever had a serious injury?  Yeah, I got a big wound from when I went snorkeling around a decade ago. I wasn’t provided flippers so when I was kicking to stay afloat I managed to hit the coral reefs underneath repeatedly, which majorly scraped and gashed my left foot until it was an open, bleeding mess. It was infected for weeks and I’m surprised it didn’t leave any kind of mark or scar.

What was the last thing you achieved?  Handling a campaign for a major client successfully and getting good coverage and results for it.

Would you enjoy being famous?  Probably, but I wish I had some sort of talent or skill that would propel me to popularity in the first place hahaha.

What’s under your bed?  Some things I collected from past hobbies and interests, like all my old wrestling magazines.

Do you enjoy travelling?  Love it.

Have you ever belonged to a club? If so, what was it?  I mean I joined an org in college, which technically makes me a member for life. I’m not name-dropping but it’s one of the two journalism organizations in my alma mater.

When was the last time you drank strawberry milk?  I can’t recall. I don’t drink strawberry milk.

Have you ever managed to collect all the fast food toys in a set?  I never collected those.

Do you have a clock in your room?  Nope.

Did you have a good driver’s ED teacher?  I honestly can’t remember. I only had like three sessions with different instructors for each, and the one instructor I remember having was extremely cranky and impatient.

Which of Britney Spears’ songs is your favorite?  Hold It Against Me is pretty fun.

Does mind over matter work for you?  Sure.

Are you paranoid?  Oh yeah. Overthinker is pretty much my middle name.

What is the best thing about winter?  I wouldn’t know but considering the things associated with it, I’ve always believed it would be my favorite season.

Have you ever been truly in love?  Hmm. I think so, yeah. I’d give myself that.

Are you currently planning a trip?  Nah. Nothing set in stone, but Angela, Reena, and I have been talking about flying to South Korea next year. We’ll see.

How many plants are in your home?  Several. My mom is a bit of a fan, but it’s nothing obsessive.

What is your favorite possession?  I treasure my BTS merch, I guess haha. Nobody is allowed to touch them or move them around without my permission. As often as my mom likes to barge in my room and touch my stuff, she seems to understand and doesn’t lay a finger on any of the merch either.

Have you ever felt like you were too nice and way too often overlooked?  Sure. But it's never really mattered to me; it just feels nice to be nice and do nice things for people. It does feel nice to be thanked, but I don’t necessarily do it for the recognition.

What movies have tripped you out?  I’m Thinking of Ending Things, Midsommar, Anomalisa, Under the Skin, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and The Killing of A Sacred Deer are a few of them.

Did you rollerblade as a kid? Do you still rollerblade?  Yesssss, I even had a pair as a kid. I got into it because I loved to ice skate, but it turned out I wasn’t as good as gliding on the ground so I ultimately preferred ice skating. Anyway, no, I haven’t done rollerblading in years.

Would you ever settle into a relationship that wasn’t right for you? Do you know friends who are in relationships just so they have someone to sleep with at night?  I did. I stayed because it’s where I felt safe and I didn’t know where else to go or what else to do outside of it.

Would you take a dirty picture of yourself for someone you are dating?  Sure.

Do you use earplugs or a sleeping mask when you sleep?  Nope. I find them more distracting than anything else, and they actually keep me from sleeping.

What summertime treats do you love?  I don’t have any.

How picky are you when it comes to choosing who to kiss or not kiss? I am VERY picky. I have to be really interested in you. < Yeah, this sounds about right.

What do you hate most about moving?  The last time we moved was in 2008...and I don’t really remember disliking any part of it. I was actually excited for us to have a home all to ourselves after living with extended family in a cramped house all my life.

Do you feel that having sex anywhere but a bed is more exciting?  Depends where. Sometimes it can be exciting, sometimes it can be inconvenient but you kinda do it out of desperation lol.

Do you drink 5 hour energy drinks or any other kinds of energy drinks?  No, I’m scared of how it would affect my body so I’ve never tried.

Has anyone ever whistled at you?  Countless random men.

Do you like scarves?  They can be comfy if I’m traveling somewhere cold...but I don’t really get to do that often, so.

Is your father homophobic?  I haven’t seen any signs from him. My mom is much more likely to exhibit internalized homophobia – she just did the other night.

Do you take gummy vitamins?  No, only when I was a teenager.

Have you ever applied make-up on a guy, for any reason at all?  I don’t think so, nothing I can recall.

Who would you like to meet before you die?  I don’t have any goal person in mind.

If your dream was to be a model, and a big opportunity came up, but you had to be nude, would you take it? Hmm, probably not. What’s the most ridiculous conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of?  The Avril Lavigne doppelganger one is extremely hilarious and I read up so many thread about it on Twitter just so I can see how far people can stretch it.

If Heaven and Hell exists, where are you going when you die?  I don’t care.

Who is the person that you are afraid of losing, above everyone else?  Either of my best friends.

What is one thing that pisses you off pretty much everyday?  The weather.

Is there anyone you know that you feel should consider therapy?  My mom.

Do you like any of the songs on Twilight, or the actual movie/saga itself?  Yeah the soundtracks are actually fucking great. The person who took this survey before me named Supermassive Black Hole by Muse, and that’s one of my favorites from all the soundtracks. The song Slow Life in New Moon is nice, too. How old was the first person you kissed?  She was 17, going on 18.

Will you be a strict parent one day?  I’d have some rules set but I wouldn’t suffocate my kids.

Last person to stand up for you?  Heck if I know. I can do that for myself.

Have you been to a baby shower?  No.

Who were you with the last time you went to the movie theater?  My ex.

What’s your favorite high school memory?  Hiding a same-sex relationship from my conservative, homophobic Catholic teachers.

Do you like relationships, or do you prefer to be single?  I like being single these days.

What is one adventurous thing you’d be willing to do?  Trying out the Nevis Swing in New Zealand.

What subject at school did you absolutely hate?  I saw no point in studying chemistry.

Italian food or Chinese food?  Chinese. I like Italian cuisine, but sometimes I find it a tad bit salty for my taste.

Do you like to make flash cards when you study?  Not flash cards but sometimes I’ll write my notes down in several index cards because for some reason I retain information better that way.

Has anyone ever told you that you’re a good singer?  No.

Do you ever watch TED talks, live or online?  No. I never saw the appeal of most of them, honestly.

I dare you to write the name of a person you strongly dislike.  Gabie.

What do you think about Marilyn Manson?  I have nothing to say about him tbh. 

Biggest trouble you’ve ever gotten into at school?  Nothing beyond getting into an argument with this kid in 2nd grade and getting sent to the counselor’s office for it.

Do you own one of those “professional” DSLR cameras?  I used to, until I handed it down to my sister...and until she let it smash onto the ground because she didn’t place it on her tripod properly when she was filming one time. I still don’t get why she’s so defensive about it; I wish she’d just admit she majorly fucked up on that. Does it bother you when you see a 6th grader with a bunch of gadgets?  It makes me silently judge the parents more so than letting myself be bothered by a child.

Did you buy yearbooks every year in high school, or did you not bother?  We’re not offered the chance to get yearbooks unless we’re in graduating years.

Do you have Restless Legs Syndrome?  No.

Jalapeños: yay or nay?  YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY

Did you ever play Minecraft? No. I can’t care less.

Did you ever have a Club Penguin account? Were you a member?  I didn’t.

Do you know anyone that seems to not have any common sense?  Me, sometimes. Hahahaha.

What do you think is the biggest injustice that was ever done to you?  The way I was broken up with, like what the person who last took this said. I’m not tortured by it and her anymore, but I don’t think I deserved to intensely mull over about what I could have possibly done to be broken up with the way she did.

What type of person angers you the most? Abusive people that think only they matter and have no consideration for how their actions affect other people. < This pretty much hits the nail on the head on how my ex is, so I’ll just go ahead and agree.

If you could change your appearance, how would you alter it?  I’d get braces again and...that’s it, really.

What are your feelings on feminism?  I support it and I support how it advocates equality.

Describe your first relationship?  I’ve only had one relationship so I’ll just answer the following question.

Describe your last relationship?  Internally toxic; uhhh healthy at some points I guess, when she wasn’t being a selfish prick; a disaster towards the end.

Can you honestly say that you always practice safe sex?  I honestly don’t know what constitutes ‘safe sex’ in a same-sex relationship, sooooo idk if I have.

Why do you think your most favorite film touches you so deeply?  It’s a realistic take on love and I appreciate that it took its sweet time to highlight the ugly sides of love and marriage. Also, Audrey Hepburn taking her acting chops to the next level was just beautiful to watch. She was always a fantastic actress in all her movies, but I could tell her acting in Two for the Road had just a little bit more depth to it.

What do you want people you meet for the first time to think about you?  That I’m nice and approachable.

Do you feel protective over someone?  My friends.

What perfume/cologne do you wear?  Heat Rush.

Where did your vehicle come from?  My parents got it for me as a high school grad gift.

What was the color of the bridesmaid dresses of the last wedding you went to?  I haven’t been to a wedding since 2007, and back then I was designated as a flower girl lol. I’ve never been to a wedding where I was chosen to be a bridesmaid.

What is your favorite way to eat chicken?  CHICKEN SANDWICH. Also chicken wings.

It is your birthday. You hope the cake is:  Oreo cheesecake topped with 24 macarons.

What do you wear to bed?  Something thin and airy.

What were you doing at 8pm last night?  I was watching Bon Voyage.

[golbrocklovely]

so brennen had sam and colby on his new podcast, and since i know a lot of you would want to listen to it bc you love snc but don't want to give brennen the views for it, i'll sum it up for you.

they started off the podcast just introducing themselves and how they became friends, and also how they got to know brennen via vine (and also how brennen didn't like them bc their content was different from his). they talk about going to jail, literally what they've said a 100 times before. then they move onto the queen mary. pretty much state the same things they've stated before.

colby mentions about how he was raised christian and that the queen mary changed how he looks at spirits and whatnot. quote from the podcast:

"i've always been questioning everything. i'm like born and raised, like, a christian. ...i've always believed in that, but when we got into ghost stuff, i always wondered 'well, how do spirits fit into christianity? that doesn't make sense. if everybody just goes to heaven or hell. what is a spirit?' and the fact that we heard something [on the queen mary], like in this realm, like kinda convinced us, like, there is something else. so like it didn't really say 'this is what we believe in now', but there is definitely something else out there. there's like a spiritual realm that like, i'm a 100% confident, is like, around us that we don't see. we don't have the capability to see."

sam states that he struggles with religion and that he didn't/wasn't gonna believe the thing that they were communicating with bc it was a 'demon', or what they believed was a demon, but he knows that it was real, regardless of what it was. it made him take a step back and actually think that maybe there is an afterlife.

then they talked about the old trap house, and that they don't feel like they're haunted, which is a question brennen asked. also snc have asked paranormal experts and they don't think that snc are haunted, so they feel okay.

another quote from colby that i found interesting:

"idk, i think it goes back to religion and like if you have trust in god and jesus christ and stuff like that, and believe that, like, he has a plan for you, and like, you can control things in your life, then you'll be safe. just trust in the right things. don't mess with the ouija, don't contact demons and scary things, and you should be fine."

sam agrees and says how they get experts now is super important and the best thing to do. but sam also thinks that you can learn a lot of stuff by doing this (paranormal) stuff on your own, just be cautious.

then they started talking about the book. they start by saying it was a boys trip to hawaii. nate knew someone on the island, so the boys were able to go to a 'secret part' of the island that was closed off, from a flood a couple years back. most ppl don't go to it unless you live there, apparently. so they got the opportunity to visit this part of the island, which was super rare.

sam said that they had no intention of filming the boys trips, bc it's supposed to be a good time, 'paradise'. they weren't trying to do anything paranormal. they went up to this place and things just got super weird. and they thought they would die bc of how strange and rough the place they were in was?? honestly, they were super vague about all of it. but sam said they they genuinely thought they weren't gonna make it out alive.

another sneak peak: they took a helicopter ride the next day (after all of this took place, i guess) over the house that they stayed in on this visit and the helicopter driver said 'oh you know that house? oh yeah, there's a rumor an old witch lives there.'

sam spoke that the day before that they wanted to go snorkeling, and when they went to go get gear for it, the person asked where they were gonna go snorkeling. the boys told her the beach they were gonna go to, the one that was closed off from the floor and whatnot, and she goes 'oh... how'd you get there?' and they told her they know someone and she said 'you know no one goes up there, right? ...just be careful. the ppl over there are bit weirder than norm.'

okay... i'm never doing this again lol that was too much hearing and typing for me haha

[baby-banana]

Stay with Me

Warnings-alcohol consumption, angst, a lil fluff, swearing.

Y/F/I/C- your favorite ice cream

Ummm I think that’s it. Ha hope you enjoy

Stay with Me

“These nights never seem to go to plan.I don't want you to leave, will you hold my hand?” - Stay with Me, Sam Smith

Your POV

Oh. Shit.

Fuck.

FUCK

I’m drunk

Well what a way to start off Monday night, right? I’m an idiot. Me. I’m an idiot. I’m drunk and an idiot. My best friend Jack Daniels, warmed my throat. It felt good against the soreness I had from screaming and crying.

“Why do you always do this?” I screamed

“Do what? My fucking job?” He retorted

“I’m not asking you to not do your job, I’m asking you to call me once or twice so I know you aren’t dead!”

“But I’m not dead!”

“I didn’t know that Spencer!” I cried. “I thought you were gone! You didn’t call me all week and I-I thought something happened!”

“I’m sorry Y/N” Spencer spoke instead of screaming for the first time.

“You don’t get to be sorry anymore! I’m done with this!”

“Y/N” he whispered, tears falling down his cheeks.

I let the tears fall while finishing my drink. I opened my eyes. Only to find a nearly empty bar.

“Excuse me? We close in 15 minutes.” The bartender spoke sweetly.

“Ohsorry.” I said, my words connecting like a magnet to a broken refrigerator. I tried to collect myself as best I could before even attempting to stand. I hopped off the barstool, struggling to keep my balance. I about fell out of the door into the cold world. One where my throat still felt like leather and my heart like a lump of coal.

Now to my next task. I needed a ride. I stared at the clock on my phone

90:4

Wait

4:09.

That makes more sense.

I opened my phone in search of a contact who would even consider picking up my call. And then I saw it

Spencer✨❤️

My heart had been unwilling to change his contact name. I stared at the name for what felt like years.

I shouldn’t…

“No, Spencer!” I yelled, hurriedly packing my bag. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep giving everything I have to you. There’s nothing left for me! I love you Spencer. But”

“Y/N!” Spencer yelped

“We’re done. I’m sorry.”

“Please, Y/N!”

“Spencer.”

“I love you Y/N”

“I wish I could believe you.”

I slung the bag over my shoulder

“Baby, please!” He gasped

I swung the door open.

“Goodbye.” I whispered.

I quickly walked down the hallway, the flight of stairs, and out the door into the pouring rain

Before I could comprehend what was happening my phone lit up.

Calling Spencer✨❤️…

“Y/N?” He said in a cautious voice

“I-I… Oh, sorryspencer. Ididntmean tocall you.” I hiccuped

“Are you drunk?”

“No. I’m fit asa motherfuckingfiddle” I lied

“Where are you?”

“I justhad a drink with a few friends” I lied again.

“Where?”

“Barney’s. They have those *hiccup* those pretzels.”

“It’s 4 in the morning Y/N.”

“Yeah, but you’re still up” I retorted

“Stay there”

“Stay where?”

“Stay at Barney’s.”

“Why? They’re closing?”

“Just stay there!” He yelled

Call ended

Wait did I just fucking call my ex? Why did I? God I’m going to pay for this aren’t I?

I didn't know why I was standing here. Oh god my feet hurt. I kicked off my straps heels and quickly bent down to pick them up. I watched the cars passing by for about 3 and a half minutes until a car pulled up.

“Spencer?” I whispered to myself while walking towards the car

“Hey sexy!” Said a man who looked to be about 35 years old. “Do you need a ride home?”

“Yeah.” I said. “Are you offering?”

“Maybe, but it will cost you.” He smirked

“How much?” I said while reaching for my purse

“No no not money baby.”

“How will I pay you then?” I asked confused.

“You’ll find out, sweetheart. Let’s go” he said while unlocking the car.

I opened the door before being grabbed by someone behind me.

“No, she’s not going anywhere with you” said the man.

I quickly whipped around.

“S-Spencer?” I asked more confused than I was before

“Get in the car Y/N.” He said with an authoritative twinge in his voice.

“No. I don’t want to go anywhere with you.” I spat

“Y/N! Get in the car!”

“Fine!” I yelled

I stumbled my way into the passenger seat of Spencer’s car. It smelled like it always had, like the cologne I’d spray on his clothes when he was away on cases so I could sleep.

The rain felt good on my face. It mixed in with the tears that I finally let fall. I didn’t know where to go now. I had stayed with Spencer for the past 8 months. By this point, my friends were his and his were mine. Most of my friends lived in another city, and I didn’t have a car, since I worked at the elementary school just 2 blocks down. So I went to the first place I could think of.

I was soaking wet as I climbed up the many stairs. Penelope lived only 3 blocks from Spencer and I. From Spencer. I finally found her place and hesitantly knocked.

“Hey gorgeous how are you?” She asked while opening the door.

I took one look at her and started sobbing.

“Oh dear come here” she said as she pulled me into a hug. “Let’s get you cleaned up okay?”

I nodded. She led me to her bathroom and placed a fluffy towel on the towel holder.

“I’ll put some pjs in the dryer and I’ll put them back in here when they’re nice and warm okay sweetie?”

I sniffled and nodded again.

The shower was warm and comforting. I needed it so bad. I would’ve stayed in there forever if I could, never to face the world again. But there were kids to teach and papers to grade. Penelope has just placed a warm pair of pjs next to the towel before leaving me. I reluctantly turned off the water and dried myself off. I put on the comfy pajamas and left the bathroom, but I didn’t see Penelope.

After a minute of berating the man who tried to pick me up, he walked back to the car and climbed in the driver seat. It took a minute before he broke the silence

“What were you thinking? I told you to stay here?”

“I was getting a ride home, Spencer! I didn’t know you were going to pick me up!”

“I thought that was pretty obvious Y/N” Spencer said while starting to drive

“I didn’t! I thought you were gonna call me a cab or something!”

“He was going to make you fuck him for a ride, you know that right? He was probably going to make you suck his dick or something else disgusting.” He cringed

“Yeah so what! At least I wouldn’t be stuck here arguing with you!”

“Y/N. You’re kidding”

“He probably would’ve had the balls to call me.” You said calmly, making sure it stung.

Spencer gripped the steering wheel tighter, and didn’t say another word the whole ride.

You almost fell asleep on the window but before you knew it you were home. No, you were at Spencer’s apartment. That hadn’t been home in a week and a half. Penelope has insisted you stay until you found a place. That woman was a goddess.

“Take me home” I said trying to sound mean

“No, I don’t trust you to not drink more right now. I want to keep an eye on you.” He said through his teeth.

“Fine” I mumbled as we walked up the familiar steps into my old apartment.

I went into my. I went into his bedroom and found a fair of pajamas that I had left behind. Then I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth with the toothbrush I had left behind. Everything here was in the same place it was when I left. Like a museum, or art gallery. There were invisible do not touch signs on all of my things.

Spencer stood in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at me like I was a ghost.

“What?” I asked defensively. That’s when it all broke.

Penelope was back after 5 minutes of me listening to the neighbors down the hall laugh and talk over what I’m assuming was a few too many glasses of wine.

She opened the door, with a bag in her hand.

“So since I’m the best I got you, a toothbrush because you probably forgot yours, ice cream because duh, and I also got some chocolate, because also duh.”

I let out a slight chuckle.

“You really are the best Pen.”

She sat down beside me on the makeshift bed she had already made on her couch.

“Okay now tell me what happened”

“I-I-I just couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t ever call me and I just thought something bad happened, and I was freaking out! He could’ve just texted me once! I needed to know he was alive. He’s done this so many times too!” I sobbed

“Shhhhh baby it’s okay.” Penelope soothed while running my back.

“I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Well how about now, we watch Dirty Dancing and break out this amazing Y/F/I/C, okay? I’ll be right back with that and a nice bottle of wine.”

“Okay” I managed to smile

“What?” I asked defensively. That’s when it all broke.

“I missed you so much Y/N! I couldn’t even bear to move your toothbrush. I slept with your clothes desperately trying to get some comfort, but it never came!” He sobbed. “I need you Y/N. I need to protect and take care of you. I need to kiss you in the morning, i need to make you tea at night. I need to make breakfast with you on Sundays. I need you, Y/N.”

You tried to stop yourself from crying.

“Why didn’t you ever call?”

“I don’t know baby. If I could go back and call you I would. I would blow up your phone with heart emoticons and voicemails of how much you mean to me.”

I squeezed beside him to go into the bedroom. I crawled into bed.

“Baby please, just talk to me” he pleaded.

I turned off the light

“Goodnight Spencer.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

4:48

4:49

4:50

4:52

4:57

Not one hint of sleep approaching. I slowly climbed out of bed and entered the living room.

“Spencer?” I asked quietly

“What is it?” He said just as quietly.

“Stay with me” I said before turning back to the bedroom. He quickly followed crawling in bed next to me.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have walked out on you.” I spoke softly trying to hide the pain in my voice.

“And I should’ve called you. With my job I need to do better in regards to keeping you updated. I just want you to know I’m safe.”

“Spencer? Do you want me to leave?” I asked. “After all I’ve done I understand if-”

“I don’t want you to leave.” He pleaded while scooching closer to place a kiss on my forehead. “Will you hold my hand?” I shyly requested.

“Anything for you.” He replied.

“I’m so sorry Spencer.” I repeated.

“Don’t be. I have all I need for the rest of my life right in front of me.” He said before kissing me.

“Goodnight Spencer Reid.” I muttered.

“Goodnight beautiful.” He whispered.

These nights never seem to go to plan, but I’m happy it ended the way it did, with me in Spencer’s arms.

[alright-red]

The rhythm of my heart

Summary: Street racing wasn’t something that Race was particularly proud of. He didn’t like the shitty attitude that people in the scene had and he sure as hell didn’t enjoy spending time after time breaking several laws in one go.

What he did enjoy was the rush of adrenaline, the way his body almost disconnected from his brain. The way his brain assumed that he was almost flying.

_________________________________________

Hey you guys, this is a prequel to a fic I’m currently writing and I thought why not share it. This is for my street racing AU featuring Race and this lil’ thing is mainly me figuring out plot holes so.

Disclaimer: I don’t know anything about street racing and I’m pretty sure it’s shows, but bear with me. Also English isn’t my first language but I think I did okay.

Rated: T for language, I guess. There’s a lot of cursing. ~1500 words

_________________________________________

The engine roared loudly, the entire car vibrating from it’s force, being pushed into third gear with the hand brake still on.

The wheels were turning and had started smoking against the dark asphalt, making sounds that any other person would’ve deemed hurtful to their ears.

To Race though, they sounded like a melody, an old familiar song, that accompanied him on the street. He took the pedal down to the metal and looked straight ahead, where some female thing was waving around flags like she was a shitty circus performer.

Race never knew where the guys got the girls they put on the spot, but he didn’t really care either. They enjoyed the feeling of being part of something like this, so who was he to judge?

Suddenly her waving pattern changed, a pattern Race would recognize anytime anywhere. He checked his rearview mirror one last time.

Three. Two. One.

He put down the break and almost flew into the night, the lights of the city traveling by faster than shooting stars. He barely registered them, focus unwavering and locked on the road in front of him. He knew the streets by heart, knew every bump and sign, knew the way the curves tightened and loosened.

He was confident he could win this thing and he got Albert to listen to the police radio and inform him in time if a car was headed up their way. He rarely got into races with that much confidence but today just seemed to be one of those days. He shifted up to the next gear within a mere blink of an eye.

Street racing wasn’t something that Race was particularly proud of. He didn’t like the shitty attitude that people in the scene had and he sure as hell didn’t enjoy spending time after time breaking several laws in one go.

What he did enjoy was the rush of adrenaline, the way his body almost disconnected from his brain and did all the driving while he focused on the traffic and made sure to let his opponents think they could beat him, just long enough to not end up in a giant brawl in the end, because they could count his win off as luck. It was tactics that helped him survive out here.

Aside from that. there was also the fact that his brain couldn’t quite tell they were driving anymore. It straight up lost all common sense and assumed that he was flying. There was nothing Race could do that would even come close to that sense of freedom (and he had tried to find a less dangerous pasttime).

Race also loved the car that Finch had assembled for him. Well, maybe less for him than for Charlie, but he was the one who took her out for drives at night and beat her up to over 140 mph in the city.

This year Charlie had chipped him a Toyota Supra despite Race’s protesting (“only the best for the best, Race”) and Finch had modified the sleek sportscar with gadgets and technology Race didn’t even pretend to understand. What he did understand though, was that Finch wouldn’t dare to disappoint Charlie and that’s why he trusted in the car. Well that, and because he assumed that Finch wasn’t one to go out and try to get people killed.

Halfway through the course that he had agreed on with his competitor, Race realized he should’ve taken the Toyota out a bit more before racing. Every now and then his driving got weird, whenever the car handled the speed and wind differently than he expected it too and he felt like his handling was going to get him to lose grip and send him flying into the next wall.

He started checking his rearview mirror more regularly, a slight insecurity starting to settle in his stomach, but realized that he couldn’t find a trace of the other’s car behind him. That was beyond weird. Morris Delancey most definitely had not managed to overtake him, yet he shouldn’t be far back either. At least not so far, that Race couldn’t even see his lights in the mirror. Morris’ car was a damn powerhouse and with any other driver surely would’ve come out top of each race.

Race was starting to feel sick. He definitely could not lose this race. Not with high stakes.

Race was well aware that the decision to race Morris was hella risky. Most of the city’s racers went under nicknames, trying to make sure that they couldn’t be ratted out and the plice couldn’t trace them. Or for that matter, other racers.

Morris Delancey though, he didn’t need a nickname to be safe. His daddy’s money made sure of that all by itself. If the police ever got him he’d be free again sooner than sunrise. The racers around the city were cautious of him; not only did he have supplies and money to boost his ride, he also was known for not following the few rules that street racing had.

So when word got to Race that Morris Delancey wanted to race him, the one person nicknamed after his talent in street racing, Race’s initial reaction had been to decline. He was good at what he did, but that didn’t make him stupid.

But now here he was, in Charlie’s car, getting more nervous by the minute, because Morris Delancey had made him an offer he couldn’t pass up. The same Morris Delancey who apparently had cheated and took a shortcut, because there was no way in hell he was that far behind Race.

“Crutch, you read me?”, he asked while speeding up even more, having to use the handbrake to make the turn and partway drifting through the turn that got him back on track to their starting point. His vision started blurring and he took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. The alarm that had started blaring in his head as soon as he had realized that Morris wasn’t where he was supposed to be, didn’t really help as he tried to concentrate on getting back as fast as possible, throwing any caution to the wind and pushing the car to it’s limits.

A small crackling sound reached him through the radio, followed by Charlie’s voice. “Yeah, man. What the hell is going on out there? We lost signal on Morris’ car a few miles ago. His team ain’t any wiser.”

Shit. Race, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t stupid or slow. He knew damn well that could only mean one thing.

“Crutch, he’s taking a blackout. Haven’t seen his car for a bit and there’s no way he took the lead. He’s playin dirty. I can’t lose this one, you hear me, Crutch?”

When he got no answer, Race started to panic and for split second forgot he was supposed to be handling a monster of a machine at a speed that would kill him if he made one mistake. He heaved the car off the course into the street lamp back onto the road. His knuckles had turned white a couple minutes ago from the death grip he had on the wheel.

“Crutchie?” Nothing.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fucking Morris Delancey. Fucking asshole.

Another crackled sound made it to the radio. “Yo, Race, it’s Al. I had Charlie take over the radio station. Give me a sec and I will find where that ass is hiding.”

Race breathed out a sigh of relief, thanking the gods for giving him a best friend that had too much free time on his hands and tought himself how to hack pretty much any system. He knew the race couldn’t take that much longer; if he kept up his speed he’d probably be back in around 15 minutes.

“Al, how are we lookin? I need good news and preferably now.” Another turn, another neigh drift. Shifting gears, using the momentum for faster acceleration.

“I got something and… Shit.” The connection went down for a second before - “Race, he went right through that old lane that belongs to the outer parts of the red-light destrict. I don’t know how you can overtake him, man, he’s got a couple miles on you.”

A string or curses left Race’s mouth, some of them slipping right back to Italian. Merda.  Va’ a fare in culo!

“I feel ya. So what you wanna do now?”, Albert asked through the com.

What do you wanna do now? Race didn’t need to think twice. He had raced cheating assholes before, making sure they got a lesson for trying to best him under entirely unfair conditions.

“Funny you should ask, my dear Al. Because I have quite the idea.” He got off the road he was supposed to be taking and drove down a lane that would save him a good couple minutes on his way.

“I wanna take out that motherfucker and I sure as hell won’t let him beat me at my own damn game. Al, get your systems started, I want a route that will put me in front of him me, pronto! I want his sorry ass to eat dirt.”

He heard laughter on the other line, then frantic typing. A beat of static noises and then - “There you go, dude. Show him who’s the King of ‘Hattan!” A small clicking noise let him know that Albert had cut the connection for now, most likely because he knew that any kind of distraction might cost Race his win.

A mere second later the screen inside the car lit up, providing him navigation and - on top of that - let him keep track of Morris’ position.

“Alright, baby, let’s see what you got”, he murmured and took the car down the trail that would cost Morris his sweet, sweet victory.

Race only had one thought as he flew down the streets of Manhattan: I am going to win this thing!

[saultnpeppah]

Day 6: Bachelor(ette) Party

Sorry for the delay. Day 6: Bachelor(ette) Party

December 19. Wayne Manor. 06:11 EST

Diana

The decorations that are hanging within the manor make me smile as I hop down the stairs, pulling a sweatshirt on as I make my way to the front door, where someone is pounding on the heavy piece of wood loudly. I know who is on the other end, and I am happy to see they are early for once, but part of me can't help be frustrated that they interrupted the only morning I've had with Bruce in two weeks.

The wedding is in two weeks and the stress has finally started to catch up as both Bruce and I try our best to finalize the small details. The florist, the band, and the catering are all booked and ready. The dress has been done and is hanging in Alfred's closet away from Bruce's prying eyes, and Donna has assured me a few of her friends here in Gotham will get both the conservatory, where our ceremony will be held, and the ballroom, decorated for the wedding.

The manor has been in Bruce's family for generations, it only made sense to get married here. But instead of the outdoor wedding both his parents and grandparents had, we decided to remain indoors, knowing the cold snowy days of winter would not make our guests comfortable. It was the easiest decision we made.

The only thing that we need to do is tradition, but with all the stress and the wedding only a week after Christmas, it is one I can go without: my Bachelorette party. Donna, and the rest of my bridesmaids, however, did not feel the same, telling me a girl's night out would help relieve some of the stress this wedding was causing. I had only agreed after they promised we wouldn't be doing anything too crazy, seeing as though Christmas was next week and the wedding was a week later.

The knocking continues as I step off the last step, sliding toward the front door, before glancing out of the peephole. My hand grips the door handle and I yank it open, whispering, "You don't need to be that loud."

Donna only giggles and shakes her head, pushing me aside to gain access to the warmth that fills the manor. "It's not like you have neighbors," she says sarcastically.

I only shake my head, watching as Donna removes her coat and hangs it up beside the door, before I turn to watch the other two women step out of the car. Lois closes the driver's side door of her car and tightens her scarf, pulling it up over her nose for the short trek to the open manor door. Beside her is Shayera who, having spent years on the sunny west coast, shivers under her thick jacket. She pulls the hat atop her head further over her ears, trying to warm them, as she rushes past Lois into the manor and out of the cold.

Lois shakes her head, chuckling at the redhead, before she steps inside, moving aside to let me close the door behind her. "Poor woman can't handle the cold," Lois says, pulling the scarf from her mouth, letting it hang loosely around her neck as she pulls off her coat and sets it beside Donna's, who has quickly made her way into the kitchen with Shayera, both needing something to eat to distract from being up this early.

I nod and chuckle. I will never understand why someone who hates the cold as much as Shayera decided to go to college in the east coast where the snow was plentiful and the wind chilled your bones to the point you felt they could snap. "She'll live," I say with a smirk.

Lois chuckles and pulls her phone from her back pocket, checking the time. Alfred steps out from the door leading to the kitchen, a duffle bag in his hands, a smirk on his face. He hands the bag to Lois, who accepts it with a nod and thanks him, watching as he turns on his heel and walks back into the room, most likely shooing Donna and Shayera from the kitchen as they rush out of the room moments after he disappears behind the door.

"What's that?" I ask curiously, although I already know the answer. Although Donna is my maid of honor, Lois has been helping her plan long distance, and none of the four, Charlie included, have told me what they had planned for tonight.

I've tried to pester Charlie at work, trying to get her to spill even the smallest of details, but it was to no avail. Every time Charlie got a text or a call from Lois or Donna she would smirk at me, silently torturing me; I am saddened that she will not be there, but her wife, Laura, has just had a baby, and even though it's been a few weeks, baby Aria had a troubling entrance into the world, so I don't hold it against her. She needs to be home with her wife and daughter, and in all honesty, I'd rather be at her home snuggling that little bundle than doing whatever crazy idea the girls have thought up.

"It's your bag," Lois says with a shrug. "And you will get it when we get to our destination, so you don't know where we're going."

I scoff and shake my head, glancing down at the sweats and sweatshirt that is covering a thin tank top I wear, raising an eyebrow as I pull my hair up into a messy bun. "Can I at least go change?" I ask.

Lois nods. "Yes, but no funny business with Bruce," she warns, "we're going to be late if the two of you can't keep your hands off each other."

Shayera giggles but Donna gags, not wanting to know her sister has a very active sex life. That's probably for the best. "I'll try," I say with a smirk. I begin to bound up the stairs, stopping at the top of the staircase to ask over my shoulder, "What am I supposed to wear?" trying to get one last hint to where we're going.

Shayera shakes her finger, shaming me for my attempt at more information, and says, "Just throw on a tshirt and jeans, Prince." I only nod, watch as Shayera smirks, and jog down the hall to my bedroom. "Don't make me come up there," she calls from downstairs.

I fling the door to the room open to see Bruce step out of the bathroom, wiping a towel over his freshly shaven face. "I assume they're here to kidnap you," he asks, watching as I pull the sweatshirt and tank off at once, leaving the top half of my body bare.

"Yes," is all I say, quickly pulling articles of clothing out from the dresser in the corner of the room. I pull on the clothing, a squeal escaping my lips when I feel Bruce's arms wrap around my waist and pull me up against him, his hand sneaking under the shirt I have just pulled on. "Lois is going to kill you if you make me late," I say, although part of me wants him to risk it. It's been weeks since Bruce and I have had a day off together, and I want nothing more than to shoo the girls away and stay locked up in this room.

"I'm not scared of her," he says in a whisper against my neck and I chuckle.

"You should be," I say, pulling my sweats down and discarding them alongside the other articles of clothing I threw on in my rush to answer the door. "But Shayera is also down there."

Bruce hesitates, freezing his movements that have his hands working circles along my hip. He is all too familiar with Shayera's tactics, after having been the receiver of a punch to the gut our freshman year of college. He now knows better than to test her and her patience. "Fine," he says with a sigh. He places a kiss on the back of my neck, watching as my breath hitches in the back of my throat, before he lets out a raspy laugh of his own. "Go. Have fun," he says, sending me off on his well wishes as he crawls back into bed, wanting to get another few minutes of sleep after the late night we had.

I pull on a pair of jeans and finish my outfit off with a pair of boots, before I lean over and kiss him one last time. With that, I rush out of the room, careful to grab my phone and my purse on the way out, and join the three women downstairs, still cautious about what these three have planned.

XXXXXXXX

December 19. Gotham Rec Center. 12:12 EST

Bruce

"That's game!"

Clark releases his hold on the rim of the basketball hoop, landing on the hardwood floor with a small thud, as Oliver struts up to him and pats his shoulder, beaming with pride. "I believe we won," Oliver says with a grin, giving a high five to Clark and his other teammate, Wally West.

My partner, John Stewart, only shakes his head and curses under his breath. He is not a fan of losing, neither am I. "That's only because you have an extra player," he points out, pointing to Wally, who only raises his hand in surrender, unsure of how he got roped into the game in the first place.

Having met Wally two years prior at a convention in Central City, I was at first put off by his irrepressible personality. He could talk for hours and still not get the point across, and I would find myself toning him out, responding with a nod here and there only to not seem disinterested in what he was saying. But after a day or two, I was won over by his knowledge of forensic anthropology and science, soon creating a friendship over our quick witted banter and thirst for knowledge. Wally was the youngest of the group, a younger brother of sorts, but I knew I wanted him to be part of my wedding as soon as Diana had accepted my proposal. And Diana loved him. She found him cute and his antics were endearing.

Like Wally, I hadn't known John for more than a year or so, having met at one of the military bases I was touring, looking for ways to help the Marine Corps incorporate new technology WayneTech had been working on. At first John was very skeptical of me, so he had told me, but after working closely together for a few months, he warmed up and we were able to form a friendship, finding the time to play a game of basketball every other week.

"Yeah, yeah," Ollie says, brushing off John's comment. He tucks the basketball under his arm and walks to the bench, where we have stashed our water bottles, phones, and keys, picks up his water bottle, and chugs its contents. "Considering West here spent half the game running after the ball instead of actually playing, I think we were pretty well matched."

He flashes Wally a smirk and a wink, hearing the younger man scoff at his comment, before he lifts the end of his tshirt and wipes the sweat from his brow. I've known Ollie nearly all my life. Our fathers used to do business with each other, and as much as I consider Clark to be my best friend, Ollie is the only one who knows the stress of running a company with a reputation like Wayne Enterprises or Queens Consolidated; if only he were a bit more responsible and didn't threaten the future of his company playing stupid games, something I've warned him against multiple times.

"Well I'm starving," I finally say in an attempt to keep the peace. "How about we go get some lunch, and then you can all tell me what we're doing?"

Everyone nods their head in unison and we all grab our items, before we head to the locker room and change into our clothes, stuffing our dirt and sweat filled gym attire into very worn out duffle bags. When we finally walk out of the rec center and back into the cold air Christmas in Gotham brings, I can't help but chuckle when I see poor Oliver shivering in his jacket, as we make our way to where Alfred waits with a limo. They don't get weather like this in California. We quickly make our way inside, each greeting Alfred as we get seated, before the Englishman starts the vehicle and takes off to a prediscloused location - one that I was not involved in planning.

"So what are we doing tonight?" I ask casually, trying to gain some information on the bachelor party that the four have kept quiet the last month and a half.

I am starting to worry they forgot to plan something and are hoping I will be their source of entertainment here in the city, but when Oliver says, "We're getting out of this negative two thousand degree weather," I know I'm in for a long weekend.

I never agreed to go anywhere. I didn't tell Diana I would be leaving the city, and the more I think about it, I haven't heard from her all morning. Whatever her bridesmaids dragged her into, I only hope she has fun, and doesn't get into too much trouble. "What do you mean?" I ask, flipping through the unread emails on my phone.

Oliver doesn't answer. Instead he throws a sly smile toward Clark, who sits there, chewing a piece of gum, trying to keep himself from spilling the secret before the big reveal. I know I'm not going to get anymore information out of Oliver and Clark, John is as much of a fortress with information as Lois, and Wally is too afraid of the rest of the guys to say anything, so I am out of luck and stay quiet, trying to enjoy the ride.

By the time I am done clearing out my inbox, the limo stops and Alfred opens the back door, where we all crawl out and onto a runway, where my private jet is waiting. "No," I say, shaking my head profusely at Oliver, who has the biggest grin on his face that could mean nothing but trouble. "I don't even have anything packed."

"I took the liberty of packing your bag for you, Master Wayne," Alfred says with a grin, pulling a suitcase from the trunk of the vehicle. He places it on the floor before he reaches in and pulls out everyone else's bags and I realize I've been tricked. So much for a quiet Bachelor party.

"You sneak," I accuse Alfred, who only shrugs his shoulders, promising to watch the manor for the weekend, before he gets into the driver's seat and takes off, leaving me stranded on the runway with the four men who each have devious grins on their faces. "I haven't even showered," I say, realizing that skipping the shower at the rec center, thinking I was going to be able to get a quick lunch and go home, was a mistake.

Clark shrugs his shoulder, bends down, and picks up three of the bags. "Shower on the plane," he says as he walks toward the plane, leaving me to shake my head, wondering how I got such sneaky friends.

XXXXXX

December 19. O'ahu, Hawaii. 16:03 HST

Diana

"I can't believe you brought me to the other side of the country," I say, my head still spinning from the flight that landed three hours ago. When Lois had driven to the airport, I figured we were headed to Atlantic City or New York. The furthest west I thought we would go was Vegas, but when I saw the destination on the ticket Lois tried to keep from me, I just about fainted.

Bruce had no idea where I was. As far as he knew, we were still nearby, having a girl's night at Lois' apartment, eating junk food and sipping margaritas. And while the margaritas were definitely a plenty, I had not expected to be sitting in a bikini by the beach while having my second drink of the night.

"Shut up and drink your margarita," Shayera says with a smirk as she and Donna come back to our table, dressed in their own beach attire, drinks in hand.

"She's right," Lois says, "besides, would you have come if we told you where we were taking you?" I only shake my head. "That's what I thought. By the way, Charlie wishes she could be here."

I let out a sigh. I wish my friend could have been here too, but she was with her wife and new daughter, and I couldn't fault her for that. Little Aria had definitely had an interesting birth story, scaring everyone that was anxiously awaiting her arrival, but now that all three were home and doing well, all that didn't matter. Still, Charlie was anxious about leaving the two of them a few weeks after her daughter's birth, not wanting to risk things. Now that I know we have traveled across the country, I understand her hesitation, and I send a quick text to let her know I miss her and can't wait to see that baby's sweet little face again.

Shayera takes a seat across from me and lets out a content sigh as she sips the drink in her hand, before she hands another glass to Donna, causing my eyebrow to raise. "What's that?" I ask, watching as Donna takes a sip and grins.

"Um, a margarita," she says with a shrug, unphased by the concern in my voice.

"Virgin?" I ask, tilting my head as I stare at my sister.

She contemplates her answer, before she shakes her head with a chuckle. "Of course not," she says, taking another sip.

I place my own cup on the table in front of me and snatch the glass from her hand, shaking my finger as she tries to protest. "Na uh," I say, "Drinking age is 21." I glance up at Shayera and furrow my brows. "How did you even get this anyway?"

Shayera chuckles and takes a large sip of her beverage, shrugs, and says, "That bartender was too busy flirting with her to realize she never got carded." After a pause she adds, "He also didn't charge me for the second drink, so I guess that's a win."

"Come on, Di," Donna begins, "Drinking age is eighteen at home."

I only shake my head once more. "We're not at home," I say, "And I don't feel like getting arrested for providing alcohol to a minor two weeks before my wedding."

Donna pouts, saddened by my newest rule, and Shayera tries to hide her playful scoff. "As I recall, you drank a lot heavier stuff than margaritas our freshman year, Diana," she says, stopping only when I kick her shin from under the table.

I know Shayera is right. I know I am a hypocrite for keeping Donna from drinking, even though I know she can handle her liquor better than half the people here, but while she is away from home, I am in charge of her well being, and I would hate for anything to happen to her, especially while we are away from Gotham. She's my sister, and if I have to be a little over protective of her, so be it.

Donna lets out a sigh, agitated that I did not let up, and pushes her chair back. "Fine," she says, standing from her seat. "I'll be right back." She walks back to the bar and I notice the bartender Shayera had mentioned before light up when he sees her, a smile on his face as his eyes fixate on Donna's, slowly listening to everything she orders.

"You've become a hard ass," Shayera says with a smirk, to which I roll my eyes and chuckle, knowing she understands where I am coming from.

I turn to face Lois and watch as she scans the room intently, her eyes roaming over every person in the room as she whispers something to herself. "You alright?" I find myself asking as I place a hand on her shoulder, pulling her attention away from a group of people at the opposite end of the bar.

Lois' eyes meet mine and she smiles, nods, and takes a sip of her drink. "I'm fine," she says, no further explanation given.

I nod, believing her, but I can't help but turn to scan the room myself. I have nearly completed a full sweep when I notice the group of people Lois had been staring at, my brows furrowing as I watch the men drink and laugh, each holding a beer as a few stare at the bikini clad women walking by, not a care in the world. When one of them turns, I shake my head and let out a scoff, before I rise from my seat and excuse myself from the table, intent on giving him a piece of my mind.

XXXXXX

December 19. O'ahu, Hawaii. 16:03 HST

Bruce

As we walk into the resort restaurant, I can't help but feel exhausted. An eleven hour flight was not something I had been planning this afternoon. If I had known this, I would have begged Diana to let me sleep instead of kissing her well into the morning - actually that is a lie, as I would always choose sleep deprivation over the deprivation of her lips on mine. The thought sends a flutter to my heart and I have to shake my head clear so that I can concentrate on not falling asleep as I walk.

The flight over was fairly monotonous. We had each taken showers in the bathroom at the rear of the plane, after which I claimed the bed in order to get one or two hours of shut eye while the others fended for themselves; Never had I been more grateful to have had my own private jet than I did today.

When we had landed, Oliver made sure we had a car waiting to take us to the resort, where we checked in, went to the suite to dump our luggage, and came downstairs to grab a drink, all in record time. And while at first I was convinced this was going to be a bad idea, where I would barely get to enjoy my time here and be exhausted a majority of the weekend, the more I thought about it, the more I realized this was a "Bruce Wayne" thing to do.

"How about a drink?" Oliver asks. Everyone nods their head, ready to start a weekend of relaxation, and he turns to me. "Bruce, come help me, will ya?"

I only nod and follow Ollie to the bar, watching as he tries to get the attention from the blonde bartender who is busy making a few extra drinks, her co worker on the other side of the bar, leaning against the counter as he flirts with another tourist. It takes a minute to finally gain her attention, and she comes over to take our order. "Hello gorgeous," Oliver says, giving the bartender a wink as he places his card on the bar. He runs a hand through his own blonde hair and tries his hand at seducing her without a word, but she doesn't fall for it and simply asks for us to repeat our order. Defeated, Ollie says, "Five of whatever you have on tap," watching as she nods and goes to grab our order.

I am unable to help the laugh that falls from my mouth as I watch Oliver sigh and drop his head, before he leans against the bar. Ever since he and Dinah ended things, yet another one of his stupid mistakes, he can't seem to get his groove back with women. It's a little disheartening to see someone who was as big of a playboy as I was, strike out with women, although as a man who is getting married in two weeks, I can no longer condone that behavior. I only wish he takes my advice and actually tries to reach out to Dinah once more.

The music shuffles and another song begins, providing some more up beat tempos to the couples dancing on a small dance floor. This place is small, but it is not boring, and as I continue to watch the people out on the beach, I decide I'm going to bring Diana hereafter we are married, as she will love it.

"Hey, Oliver," I say, turning my attention back to the man who is silently staring at a few surfers in the background. He turns to me. "Thank you," I say.

Oliver shakes his head. "No, thank Clark," he answers, "he was the one who set this whole thing up."

I applaud him for giving the credit to my best man, but I know for a fact Clark couldn't have paid for everything here. But Oliver knows what I meant, and only offers me a sly smile, pats me on the back, and says, "But think of this as a thank you. You saved me and the company back in February, and I can't thank you enough for that, Bruce."

Before I can respond, the blonde bartender comes back, a tray of beers in hand. Oliver hands her a credit card and tells her to keep a tab open, before he quickly grabs the tray and walks off to join the guys, myself not too far behind. When he makes it back to the three, Oliver begins to hand out beers, laughing at the last line of a joke Wally said that I just missed.

Clark makes a toast to the rest of the weekend, and to the wedding everyone can't stop talking about, before we indulge in our own little party, chatting about everything beside the wedding, because as much as I love the thought of marrying Diana in two weeks, I can't be stuck in another conversation about which flowers go best with lace. I'll leave that up to the bride and her friends.

"Now that is a beautiful woman," Wally says as he finishes his beer. He sets the glass down on to the table, turning his head to get a better look at the woman sporting a blue bikini, as she trots toward the water, surfboard in hand. Oliver nudges his arm and wiggles his eyebrows, before he whistles loudly, and I want nothing more than to hide my face, not wanting to draw more attention to myself as Oliver and the guys already have.

"Have some respect," Clark says as he takes another drink of his beverage and I am once again surprised at the will power this man has. Ever since he started dating Lois, he has yet to look at another woman in a manner that is anything other than professional. Although when you find the woman who you love more than anything, no other person will compare. I'm a testament to that.

I take another sip of my drink when I feel someone tap my shoulder. "Excuse me, sir," I hear from behind me, "care to dance?"

I place my drink on the table and turn, ready to let the woman behind me know I am unable to fulfill her request, but when I see who it is, my face lights up and my lips curl into a wide smile. "What are you doing here?" I ask in utter disbelief, surprised to see that my fiance so happens to be at the same resort me and my groomsmen are at currently.

Diana giggles as she leans in to my open arms. She kisses my cheek and I wrap my arms around her, the feeling of her body flush against mine sending chills down my spine. How has it only been a few hours since I've seen her and yet I feel like I'm going through withdrawals?

"Lois," she says, but she looks past me at Clark and narrows her eyes. "Although I suspect Clark and Lois conceived this idea together."

I glance over Diana's shoulder and notice Lois, Shayera, and Donna sitting at a table, enjoying what look like margaritas and laughing at something Donna has said. Our friends are sneaky people but they mean well, and I can't fault them for that.

"So," I begin, moving closer to Diana so I can whisper in her ear, "do you think they'd notice if we left for a bit?"

She ponders my question, a sly smile on her face as she realizes I want to continue what was interrupted this morning. "Let's go," she says as she takes my hand and pulls me away from the guys, maneuvering me through the crowd surrounding the bar, before pulling me out of the restaurant and onto the sand that covers the beach.

We walk across the sand, hand in hand, trying to find a spot where we can find complete privacy. Diana tells me of how she and the girls flew to Hawaii, Lois and Donna keeping her preoccupied until they boarded their last flight; only then did she know where they were headed. She tells me how she tried to call me the second she landed, wanting to let me know she wasn't going to be home tomorrow morning like she had originally thought, but I hadn't received her message because I had been on my own trek to the island. I tell her about my day, how after she left Clark and Oliver arrived at the manor, enjoyed a quick breakfast, and went about my day, not knowing I would be sleeping in a bed on the other side of the country that night.

"I can't believe Oliver is paying for all this," Diana says as we plop ourselves down onto the sand.

I stare out to the ocean, where the sunset has already begun to cast a beautiful array of red and orange over the water, and nod. "I know," I say, agreeing that he is taking this thanks a bit too far, but if he wants to splurge on me and my fiance, I'll happily let him do so.

It is quiet for a moment, the only sounds coming from the small waves crashing on the shore, and I am grateful to know the only other people on this side of the beach have found their ways home, giving Diana and I the privacy we so desperately crave. It isn't long before she finds herself in my lap, arms wrapped around my neck, as she kisses me fiercely. Without hesitation my hands find themselves around her waist, pulling her closer, wanting to feel her body against mine.

My hands caress her back, my fingertips dancing along her bare back as my right hand makes its way up into her hair. My fingers tangle into those dark locks I love and when I give it a small yank, she lets out a moan that ignites something inside of me. My lips kiss a trail from her lips to her neck, knowing what this does to her, a smirk on my face when I hear her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

"Bruce," she whispers, "we shouldn't be doing this here."

I nod as I place my lips over hers once more. I know she's right, but her in my arms feels so right, and I don't care where we are, I want her. I part my lips, knowing I need to respond, however the voices that come from a few feet away make me freeze in my tracks.

"I think they're over there," I hear. My heart races as I recognize the deep voice. It's John, and he and the shadowy figure he is with begin to run to where Diana and I sit.

"Diana," I whisper, "we have company."

She pulls away from me and looks over her shoulder just in time to see John and Shayera come running up, stopping when they realize the compromising position they have found us in.

"Woah, are we interrupting something?" Shayera asks with a smug smile. She crosses her arms over her chest, staring intently at Diana and I as John tries to look away, trying to avoid both Diana and I, and Shayera's bikini clad chest, which is right in his line of sight.

"Yes," Diana says, letting out a sigh as she stands and fixes the skirt she wears.

"Good," Shayera says. "It's only been a few hours and you can't keep your hands off each other."

I stand from the sand and brush off my shorts and shrug. "Can you blame me," I ask honestly. Shayera glances at Diana, pondering my question, and nods to herself with a sigh, before she shakes her head and waves away her private thoughts. "Beside, you guys are the ones who brought us to the same resort."

John sighs. "I told Clark that was a bad idea. Now they're going to try to sneak off every chance they can."

Diana glances at me and winks, before she lifts her hand and uses a finger to cross an x over her heart. "I promise. We'll stay away from each other until we all go home."

Shayera doesn't seem to accept Diana's response, but she soon shrugs her shoulders and lets it go. Diana turns to give me one last kiss, smiling as she looks into my eyes, before she turns and follows Shayera back down to the restaurant and resort.

John, who has been staring at Shayera, clears his throat and turns to me. "Oliver says we have plans," he says. I nod and we walk back to the restaurant, where the other three guys are waiting, ready for a night of partying and drinking, and although all I want is to still be wrapped in Diana's arms, I know that'll come in time. Two more weeks, Bruce. Two more weeks until I get to marry her.

I realize nothing too exciting happened here, but this was the one I was unsure of. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!

@fyeahwonderbat

[ephemeralstark]

Keep On Fighting In the Meantime

Summary: One decision is all it takes for someone's life to be thrown upside down, and sometimes it's not even a decision they've made.

Or, a drunk driver runs a red light and hits a car containing Peter and Happy. The physical and emotional injuries aren't going to go away easily, but thankfully Mr. Stark is always there for his family.

8.5K | Rated T and up | complete

Read HERE on AO3 or click the read more to view here on tumblr

“Peter are you sure you don’t wanna come?” Ned asked as he shoved a pile of papers into his locker, Peter supressed a flinch as he heard some of them tear from the rough force.

“Nah, Mr. Stark said he had some upgrades for Karen and I want to see if I can get her to understand Gen Z humour,” Peter said, “she keeps trying to call for help whenever I make jokes. Apparently, it’s ‘concerning’.”

“I mean it probably is to the uninitiated.” Ned agreed as he tried to jam his locker shut, the papers sticking out around the edges of the door.

“Y’know, MJ is gonna kill you when she sees the state of those.” Peter told him.

“Yeah, but I told her I don’t have room in my locker to store decathlon prep, this will just prove my point.” Ned said with a shrug.

“Dude.” Peter said, shaking his head at his best friend. “You’re a dead man walking. Like genuinely. You must have a death wish.”

“Maybe if she kills me, I won’t have to go to that 8am practice on Saturday.” Ned said after a moment of quiet deliberation as he looked at his locker.

“Bold of you to assume even death could get you out of practice.” Peter snorted, before glancing at him phone that buzzed with a message. “I gotta go, I don’t want to keep Happy waiting. Have fun going over all the wrong answers with the team.”

“It’s meant to be a team dinner.” Ned said quietly, a distinct whine in his voice. “It’s meant to be fun and relaxing.”

“Sure, and MJ stepped down as the leader.” Peter muttered; his words laced with sarcasm.

Peter laughed at Ned’s despair and made his way out of the back door of the school. He had an agreement with Mr. Stark that he would allow himself to be picked up by Happy so long as he used the most discreet car and parked around the back of the school.

While it would have been nice to rub it in Flash’s face that he really was an intern with Stark Industries, he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the extra attention that would come with people believing his story. His classmates would pretend to be his friend only to get close to Mr. Stark and reap the benefits, the media would jump on the story of the high school intern, and some people – in the depths of the internet - would even begin to theorise that Peter Parker was in fact Spider-Man.

So, yes, Peter decided to give up on trying to convince his classmates that he wasn’t a liar.

The familiar Audi was parked by the yellow curb and Peter could see an irate looking Happy checking his watch in the driver’s seat. He mentally snorted, apparently discreet meant an Audi that was illegally parked. Mr. Stark really didn’t have a clue.

“You’re late.” Happy said as Peter opened the back door and threw his backpack in, sliding in after it.

“Actually, I’m not.” Peter said.

“I was here bang on 5:30.” Happy said. “Practice ended at 5:30 and now it’s 5:40. You’re ten minutes late.”

“You’re insane,” Peter declared happily, “and time is a construct. It doesn’t exist, we made it up as humans to suit our needs.”

“You’re not going to exist if you continue speaking nonsense,” Happy said as he pulled away, the child locks automatically clicking on, “time is a real thing, trust me I’ve had enough arguments with Tony about that, and if you’re late again I’m gonna leave you.”

“Mr. Stark would make you come back and get me if you left.” Peter said, calling Happy’s bluff.

“Don’t I know it.” Happy complained. “He’s going soft thanks to you.”

He didn’t say that like it was a bad thing, in fact, Peter thought he almost sounded happy about that fact, but that was impossible. This was Happy they were talking about. Happy was never happy. He was always the grumpy, stoic figure in the driver’s seat who would make snide remarks and complain about the rudeness of youths these days.

If Peter didn’t care so much for his life, he would have called him a grumpy grandpa.

“Did Mr. Stark tell you what upgrades he’s planned for Karen?” Peter asked.

“84 seconds.” Happy said.

“I’m sorry?”

“You managed to stay quiet for an entire 84 seconds, it’s your personal best.” Happy said. “Do you want to try for 100 seconds?”

“Happy, I-” Peter stammered, “was that? Did you just make a joke?”

“No.” Happy said. “I’m serious.”

“Oh, well in that case I should probably tell you that I lost interest in the ‘who can stay quiet the longest’ game when I was five.” Peter continued.

“So, your poor Aunt has been suffering for the last ten years?” Happy asked. “Poor woman deserves a medal.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Peter mumbled. That was a point he wouldn’t argue on.

“Hey, Happy?”

“Kid really?” Happy asked. “What could you possible have to ask now?”

“Well, I was thinking ma-”

Peter didn’t get to finish his question.

His Spidey-Sense rang out loud and clear, it screamed ‘danger’ in his mind, and it was ready for the danger to come before Peter had even realised something was wrong – his hands were automatically in the air, waiting for a blow to land.

Peter’s Spidey-Sense had always been a bit of a guessing game, when he was in a dangerous situation it was useful, when he was fighting an armed assailant he knew that it going off would mean that he was at risk of being stabbed or shot and he could move in time. If he was walking in a dark alley, it could mean that there was someone behind him, so he could turn around in time and they’d lose the element of surprise.

But sitting in the back seat of a car? There was no one following, no one with a knife, and Peter knew Happy had a gun but one quick glance at him showed his hands in the typical ten and two position on the steering wheel. Not that Happy would ever shoot him on purpose, not unless Peter was really, really annoying.

Peter saw the danger too late, his Spidey-Sense had warned him but it was pointless because as he looked out the window and saw the truck coming towards them, he realised there was nothing he could do.

The truck hit with a bone-trembling crash, Peter heard Happy take a sharp breath before cursing loudly and slamming his foot on the breaks. He wanted to tell him that it wouldn’t do anything, they’d already been hit.

Metal gave way, crumbling under the force of the truck and shards of glass rained down on Peter as the windows shattered.

Peter watched numbly as his backpack was tossed around on the backseat as the car was forced to the side because of the impact that had been delivered.  

He was pretty sure he was screaming, but he couldn’t focus on anything that was happening, there was too much noise and light and fear and pain.

Peter didn’t even realise he had been knocked out until he woke up, blinking slowly to remove something from his eyes. He was struggling to focus properly, everything seemed to be hazy and the lights were trailing like a glow stick being waved through the air by a child on a dark night.

He guessed that he hadn’t been out for very long as he was still in the car, strapped in to his seat, he could hear people outside walking around – emergency services must not have arrived yet, because they seemed cautious and unsure about how to proceed.

“Should we pull them out?”

“I don’t think you’re meant to move people with head injuries.”

“How do we know they have a head injury?”

“How do we know they don’t?”

“That kid looks in rough shape, he’s bleeding a lot.”

“I think he’s awake.”

Peter groaned, he assumed that he was the kid that they were talking about, was he bleeding? Where? Oh. He looked down and saw a large, twisted piece of metal protruding from his chest, that was where. As soon as Peter saw the metal, he felt the pain, it was burning and all consuming, he wanted to grit his teeth and be strong, but he couldn’t.

At the end of the day he was a kid, a kid with jagged metal sticking into his body and he couldn’t hold in the screams of pain.

He wanted to go home. He wanted his Aunt.

“Ah, Ha- Hap-py?” He asked between grunts and gasps of pain.

No answer.

“Happy, ow, ah, p-p-please, answer me.” Peter pleaded.

He tried his best to focus, to listen for Happy’s heartbeat but his own was pounding too fast to hear anything else past it. There was too much happening, too many people outside, the car was still creaking and groaning, there were sirens in the distance and Peter’s senses were unreliable when he was feeling so frantic and distracted.

He was just like any other person in that moment, he had no enhanced senses to offer him reassurances, he would just have to hope that Happy was alright until someone gave him a reason to believe otherwise.  

“Clear the way, let us through.”

Peter tried to relax a little as he heard the paramedics arrive, they would help Happy, they’d make sure he was alive, they had to, they had to.

“Kid?” Peter hadn’t realised that the car was on its side until he looked up and saw a paramedic peering through the side window which was now on top facing the overcast skies. “We’re going to get you out, alright, just hold tight.”

“N-n-no,” Peter stammered, “not me. H-Happy.”

“Happy?” the paramedic asked in confusion, obviously wondering whether Peter had hit his head during the accident, to be fair, maybe he had. A lot had happened and at some point, he’d lost consciousness.

“D-driver.” Peter tried to elaborate, oh god why couldn’t they just get it? Every word was hurting.

“Alright, Happy is the driver,” the paramedic said, “don’t worry, we have another team here helping him.”

Peter looked to the front to see that they were telling the truth, there was a paramedic leaning through the broken windscreen to check on Happy, how had he missed them? Were his senses really failing him so drastically?

“See, we’re helping him too, now we’re probably going to need to get the fire service to cut you out, but don’t worry they’re already here so it won’t take long, in the mean time I’m going to come down there and see what I can do to help you.”

Peter nodded, letting his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as he breathed through a spasm of pain caused by the movement of the car.

“What’s your name?” The paramedic asked.

“Peter.” He whispered, he was so tired, talking felt like too much energy.

“Alright Peter, now I’m coming down alright?”

He couldn’t bring himself to answer. He was so tired.

The exhaustion was heavy, and it seemed to weigh him down, maybe a nap would be the best thing for him, he would only close his eyes for a minute. It would be fine… just a minute. Someone was talking to him, but Peter was too busy falling asleep to care.

-

“Pete? Peter, come on Kiddo,” a familiar voice was determined to rouse Peter from his peaceful slumber, but he was just as determined to stay in the blissful land of sleep, “Peter, come on, wake up. Please.”

Whoever that was, they sure were persistent, it was mildly irritating.

“He frowned,” another voice chipped in, also familiar but Peter still couldn’t place who they were, “did you see that, he definitely frowned!”

“Peter? Can you hear us?”

“He’s moving his lips!”

“Open your eyes, Peter.”

Ugh! Peter complied, hoping that his irritation at being woken up was clear to see. Oh, it was May and Mr. Stark who had been talking, both of them standing over him and staring at him with expectant looks.

What were they waiting for?

“There he is,” May said softly, “you were beginning to worry us, sweetie.”

“Yeah, May over here was panicking like you wouldn’t believe.” Mr. Stark said, with a faint red hue across his cheeks, Peter was sure he could only see that thanks to his Spidey-Senses.

“Mhm,” May hummed, casting an unimpressed look at Mr. Stark, “I was the one panicking.”

“In my defence-”

“You have no defence,” May interrupted.

“I know, but a car accident?” Mr. Stark asked, Peter had the feeling that hadn’t been the first time he’d asked that question.

“A car accident?” Peter asked, trying to filter through hazy memories.

He couldn’t remember it properly, he could remember chatting to Ned and getting into the back of the Audi – Happy had been his usual grumpy self, but after that, everything was hazy and difficult to comprehend.

Happy.

“Wait,” Peter mumbled, interrupting whatever it had been that Mr. Stark was going to say, “is Happy alright?”

“Uh,” May faltered, looking to Mr. Stark for help. Peter’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, since when did May look to him for advice, what was going on?

“Happy was pretty badly hurt,” Mr. Stark said honestly, “he’s in surgery at the moment.”

“Surgery?” Peter asked.

“He’s strong.” Mr. Stark said, trying to reassure him but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in a while. They both did.

“How long ago was the accident?” Peter asked.

“A few days, you’ve been in and out of it since then, but you haven’t been able to retain much,” May told him, as she ran a hand through his curls, “the doctors say it’s just because of a bad concussion, and it won’t be permanent.”

“So you’ve told me all of this before?” Peter asked, feeling unnerved.

“Just bits and pieces, this is the longest you’ve managed to keep your eyes open so far.” Mr. Stark said.

“That sounds exhausting,” Peter mumbled, screwing up his nose only to find that there was something shoved up it.

“Don’t pull at that.” May said, gently guiding his hand away, “it’s just something to give you a little extra oxygen and a tube to give you nutrition.”

“Why do I need oxygen?” Peter asked. “I was in a car crash.”

“You were pretty beat up from the accident,” May said calmly, too calmly, she was obviously trying her best not to cause him any worry, “there was a piece of- uh, a piece of metal that stabbed you.”

“Ok,” Peter said, hoping that he appeared calm enough for her to continue, how had he reacted to this in the past? Had he been told about it before? How much of this was actually news to him?  

“It pierced your lung and caused it to collapse,” May said, “they called it, uh, a pneumothorax.”

“Oh.” Peter said.

So… he’d had a collapsed lung, that wasn’t too bad, right? He’d heard about them before, sure, they were dangerous, but he was in the hospital and being cared for, surely that meant he was safe.

“You’re taking this better than last time?” Mr. Stark said, looking pleased with that fact.

“How did I take it last time?” Peter wondered.

“Ugh, there was some panicking, from you and me,” May admitted, “you were convinced that you were suffocating.”

“But,” Peter paused, feeling unsure of himself, “I’m not, right?”

“No, but you did lose a lot of blood, so you’ve had a few transfusions and you should be weaned off the oxygen soon.” May told him.

“It’s weird.” Peter mumbled.

“What is, sweetie?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Peter didn’t hear her reply, the sweet call of sleep was too much to resist, he fell into a peaceful slumber with the sound of May and Mr. Stark talking soothingly somewhere in the distance.

-

The next time Peter woke up, he was in darkness. His heart instantly jumped into action as he panicked and forgot where he was, the beeping from the monitor caused a dark mass to move from beside him.

“Hey, calm down, Underoos, it’s just me.” Mr. Stark. “You’re safe, you’re alright, it’s all ok.”

“I’m sorry.” Peter gasped, using the dim lights from some of the machines to focus on Mr. Stark’s face.

“Don’t apologise,” Mr. Stark said, quick to reassure him, “you’re in the hospital.”

“I know.” Peter said. “I remembered this time.”

“Oh, thank god.” Mr. Stark said, falling back against the chair in relief, Peter heard the small exhale of air from the force of hitting the backrest.

“I was just speaking to you and May?” Peter murmured, confused.

“You were, but you’re on some pretty hefty painkillers, Kiddo, you fell asleep for a few hours after that.” Mr. Stark told him.

“I don’t like feeling so tired.”

“It won’t be forever,” Mr. Stark said reassuringly, “in fact, your healing factor is doing amazing things for you right now. You’ll be home before you know it.”

That was right, Peter was Spider-Man, he had a healing factor that had probably saved his life. Happy, though, he didn’t.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter waited for the quiet hum to continue, “how is Happy doing?”

“He’s stable, he’s in the Intensive Care Unit, but they’re optimistic that he’ll be able to step down in the next day or two.” Mr. Stark said.

“Oh,” that was good, not that he was poorly enough to need the ICU, but that he was improving at least, “and May? Where is she?”

“She nipped home about an hour ago to grab a shower and some food, I promised to stay with you until she gets back.”

“Thank you.”

-

The next time Peter woke up, it was light, and the annoying tubing that was blowing dry air up his nostrils was gone. As was Mr. Stark. May had taken his place, curled up on an uncomfortable looking chair, with a book in one hand and a travel cup of coffee in the other – Peter could smell the faint hint of bitterness in the air, she was drinking coffee. That wasn’t like her, May said that coffee normally made her feel jittery.

“May?”

“Oh, sweetie, you’re awake,” she said, tossing her book aside and unfurling her legs so she could rush over to his side.

“This isn’t the hospital?” Peter was sure of that; he couldn’t smell the antiseptic in the air or hear the beeping of thousands of machines anymore.

“No, you’re stable enough that Tony managed to wrangle a transfer to the Med-Bay, although why they had to wait for you to be this stable is beyond me.” May muttered. “You have S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best doctors organising your care, they were looking after you in the hospital too because of your abilities, you could have been moved earlier.”

“I don’t need their best,” Peter mumbled, “I’m doing fine.”

May didn’t confirm or deny his statement, maybe she didn’t want to jinx anything or worry him, “do you want to try eating something?”

“Do they have jello?” Peter asked.

“Do they- of course they have jello, you do realise that this is Tony’s compound, right?” May asked with a teasing smile.

“Fair point,” Peter mumbled, blushing as May helped him sit up in the bed. Was he really so weak that he needed assistance to sit?

Ow.

“Too much?” May asked.

“No, it’s fine,” Peter lied, but he didn’t want her to overreact and lie him back down, he was hungry, “how long has it been since I’ve eaten?”

“A while, but they put that tube in your nose to make sure that you could still get some nutrients, because it just so happens that your metabolism means that you need quite a high intake.” May said. “Imagine my surprise at only hearing about this now.”

Oops.

“I, uh-”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to lecture you while you’re recovering.” May said, waving away his attempts to cover his ass. “Now, sit still, don’t do anything stupid, I’ll be back in a moment with your jello.”

“I never do anything st- well, not intentionally.”

-

“This is a bad idea,” Mr. Stark muttered as he pushed the wheelchair, “like, a really, really bad idea.”

“Shh, if you speak too loudly someone will catch us.” Peter said, scolding his mentor.

It had been two weeks since the accident, two weeks since one of the most difficult experiences of Peter’s life. It was, however, one of the best days Peter had had since the event. He’d been struggling a lot with pain and lethargy, every medical professional had told him that it was perfectly normal, and that he was lucky to have survived, but Peter was growing restless.

He supposed that it made sense to be taking a while to recover when he shouldn’t have made it out alive, but he was Spider-Man, it shouldn’t be taking so long.

He’d wanted to be discharged from the compound, May and Mr. Stark had wanted him to stay in bed, they’d compromised by waiting until May left for work and Mr. Stark smuggled Peter into a wheelchair and promised to take him to visit Happy.

“Maybe someone should catch us.” Mr. Stark muttered.

“I swear, if you’re planning to sabotage us…” Peter let the threat hang in the air.

“You’ll what?” Mr. Stark asked. “Throw your jello at me? Tell on me? Kid, you won’t do anything, and you don’t need to, I’m not sabotaging anything.”

“How is…” Peter paused. “How is Happy?”

“He’s doing well, considering everything,” Mr. Stark said quietly, “he’ll be glad to see you.”

Will he? Peter wondered, it’s my fault he got hurt, I was the one he was picking up from school.

Peter had been told the details of the crash; he knew that it was no fault of Happy’s. A drunk driver had run a red light. It had been that simple and yet, that complicated.

So, logically, there was no blame to be placed on Peter, but then, it was Peter’s fault Happy was in the car; he knew that Mr. Stark would argue with him if he voiced that belief, so he kept quiet, he wasn’t ready for any reassurances, nor did he deserve them.

“Alright, we’re just in here.” Mr. Stark said, as he pushed Peter into a dimly lit room.

Happy had suffered a bleed on the brain thanks to the accident, apparently, he was still getting severe migraines and they were triggered by harsh lights and loud noises.

“He’s sleeping,” Peter whispered, “should we come back later?”

“No.” Mr. Stark hadn’t been the one to answer that.

“Happy?” Peter asked quietly.

“Long time no see, Kid, you’re late.” Happy mumbled, Peter vaguely registered Mr. Stark stepping out to give them a moment.

“Late?” Peter asked, unable to stop the smile from appearing as he grabbed the wheels and pushed himself closer.

“Yeah, I was expecting your annoying face to appear days ago, I never thought I’d get more than 84 seconds of peace.”

“You missed me.” Peter realised.

“Now, don’t go putting words in my mouth,” Happy said, “I most definitely did not say that.”

“You did, you missed me,” Peter repeated, “that’s ok, I missed you too… I was, uh, really worried about you.”

“I was worried about you too, Kiddo, you alright? You don’t look yourself.” Happy said.

“I’m good, much better now than I was.” Peter said.

“Hmm.”

“Happy?” Peter asked, resisting the urge to lean forward and shake the man, “Happy? Uh, Mr. Stark!”

“What? Oh,” Mr. Stark had burst into the room when Peter had called, only to pause and look understandingly at him, “he’s just tired, Pete, he can’t stay awake for very long at the moment. Don’t worry, he’s just sleeping.”

“Oh,” Peter said simply, as he stared at Happy’s prone figure, “will he ever be back to normal?”

“Time will tell,” Mr. Stark said honestly, “the doctors seem optimistic, but they’re sure to let us know it’s a cautious optimism.”

“Can I go back to my room?” Peter asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, of course you can, Underoos.” Mr. Stark said gently, turning the chair to push Peter out the room.

Peter closed his eyes, he could still see Happy lying there, looking so still in the bed, so pale… so-

No.

He was alright, he had sassed Peter, he wouldn’t have done that if he was as bad as he looked. Peter hadn’t realised how much he missed that attitude, how much he missed bickering playfully with Happy.

He missed the older man, the guy who had become such a daily staple in his life. Had he taken his presence for granted? Was that why this had happened? As some sick cosmic way to tell Peter he needed to appreciate those in his life more? Peter didn’t know, maybe there was no reason for any of it to happen, maybe sometimes shitty things just occurred.

Peter knew he should be focusing his questions on the drunk driver – the guy who had managed to walk away with a few lacerations and a broken arm, the man who was at fault had suffered the least. Was Peter a bad person for wishing that guy had been hurt more? Not so much that he had died, but just enough so that he would understand what he’d done to Peter and Happy. Maybe he was, maybe he was too vindictive to be Spider-Man.

“There’s a lot of thinking going on in that head of yours.” Mr. Stark said as he pushed Peter, “care to share?”

Peter shrugged, changing the subject, “this isn’t the way to my room, where are we going?”

“I figured you could see the common area before going back to bed, I stocked that fridge with jello too,” Mr. Stark murmured.

“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t really want to run into the Avengers, not today.” Peter said, feeling guilty for not being excited about Mr. Stark’s kind gesture.

“You won’t, they’re all out on a mission.” Mr. Stark reassured him. “The only person you might bump into is Rhodey, and even then, that’s a slim possibility, he’s meant to be in the gym doing his physiotherapy.”

“Alright then,” Peter said quietly. That wasn’t so bad – he liked Mr. Rhodes, he’d met him a few times and he’d always met Mr. Stark’s chaotic energy with his own deceivingly calm one, they were funny to see together, “as long as there’s lime jello.”

“You’re a really weird kid.” Mr. Stark said.

“So you keep saying.”

“Who even likes lime jello?”

“I do,” Peter said with a pout.

Mr. Stark wheeled him into the common area, it was large and empty – just as promised.

“So,” Mr. Stark said, clicking the breaks on so he could go rootle about in the fridge, “what’s on your mind?”

Peter shrugged, staring at the tabletop until a green pot of jello slid in front of him, followed by a shiny metal spoon.

“Eat up, there’s plenty more where that one came from,” Mr. Stark said, “I’m telling you no one likes lime jello.”

“Well, I do,” Peter mumbled, peeling away the foil lid and crumpling it in a fist, “it’s the best flavour and it’s even better that no one else likes it because then I get it all to myself.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.” Mr, Stark said, taking a seat opposite Peter with his own pot of red Jello – so Mr. Stark was a strawberry guy, that figured.

“What are you trying to do?” Peter asked, narrowing his eyes at his mentor.

“What do you remember from the car accident?” Mr. Stark asked.

“Nothing.” Peter lied.

“Hmm, nope, I’m not buying that,” Mr. Stark said, “you’ve been having nightmares, you keep zoning out, you’re refusing to talk about anything to do with it… you remember.”

“Did May put you up to this?” Peter asked as he slurped jello off the spoon, trying to distract himself from what Mr. Stark was asking about.

Smoke… he could smell smoke all around him, and the sticky odour of engine oil mixing in with something metallic and…oh. Blood. Someone was bleeding, was it him? or Happy? Was Happy even alive? Was Peter?

“-concerned, like me, Underoos,” Peter blinked and tried to focus on Mr. Stark’s words rather than the memories of that afternoon, “we want to help you, we want to do whatever it takes to make you feel better.”

“Mr. Stark, I had a collapsed lung, numerous broken bones, contusions, lacerations, a concussion that caused me to lose days from my memories, and I needed multiple blood transfusions.” Peter said. “I get you guys want to make me feel better, but I almost died, there’s a good chance I would have without my Spider-Man abilities.”

“So, you feel like you shouldn’t be alive?” Mr. Stark asked.

“No…well, kinda, not like I wish I’d died or anything,” Peter was quick to reassure him, “just, if I was meant to die, didn’t I cheat?”

“Cheat?”

“Yeah, like I should be in just as bad shape as Happy is, but because of my abilities I’m sitting in the common area eating jello with you while Happy can barely stay awake for a five minute conversation. It feels unfair, he should be the one sitting here with you.”

“You want to swap places?” Mr. Stark asked, but Peter could tell he didn’t expect an answer. “Kiddo, you can’t think like that.”

“Why not? Don’t you want the same thing?” Peter wondered.

“Of course not!” Mr. Stark’s voice was loud and verging on shouting, it hurt Peter’s still tender brain. “I don’t want either of you to be in Happy’s position, and just because you can heal, doesn’t mean that you aren’t affected by the crash.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry for shouting, kid, but you’re not, you’re wishing you could swap with Happy.” Mr. Stark said. “You’re wishing for further injuries because you feel some sort of misguided guilt over what happened.”

“It’s not misguided!” Peter snapped, dropping his spoon on the desk with a clatter.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Stark asked gently, too gently, Peter broke.

“Happy should have never been there, I shouldn’t have been ten minutes late, I could have walked or got a bus or a taxi or swung over, I could hav-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Mr. Stark interrupted. “Slow down, take a deep breath.”

Peter copied Mr. Stark’s exaggerated deep breaths, mimicking the man like he used to as a kid – back when Ben would applaud him for wearing one of his old suit jackets that hung down to Peter’s ankles and tripped him up as he paced back and forth in front of the TV quoting Tony Stark’s clean energy speeches.

“Peter…kiddo…you can’t tell me you think this was your fault?”

“Why not?” Peter asked numbly. “It was.”

“No, it wasn’t, it was George Hendersen’s fault. No one else’s.”

Huh, George Hendersen. It was such a normal name, the kind that a father, brother, son would have. Peter wondered how many people were left confused and pained over his actions? How many members of his family were trying to deal with the knowledge that he had gotten behind the wheel of his car, drunk?

“Why did he do it?” Peter asked, tears falling without his permission.

“Oh, kid,” Mr. Stark said, abandoning his red jello in favour of kneeling beside Peter’s wheelchair, “look at me-” he paused, waiting for Peter to comply, “I don’t know. I wish I did, I really do. I wish I could give you an answer that would make all the pain and fear make sense, but I don’t have anything to tell you.”

“I hate him.” Peter said, the words pouring out without any bite thanks to the sobs that escaped with them. “Is that wrong of me?”

“No,” Mr. Stark said, “hate is a real strong emotion, and my therapist would probably say it’s dangerous to hold onto hate, but personally I hate him too.”

“I wish he hadn’t done it.”

“Me too, kiddo, me too.” Mr. Stark said quietly, before holding his arms open, “come here.”

Peter fell into them easily, breathing in the familiar scent of cologne and grease, Mr. Stark wouldn’t let George Hendersen hurt him or Happy again.

-

“What do you mean he got community service?”

Peter’s head jumped off the pillow with a protesting throb at the shriek that seemed to pierce through his walls and door.

“May, calm down,” Mr. Stark’s voice was quieter, he was trying not to wake Peter, not that it mattered now, “you know I’m going to get Pepper and my best team of lawyers on the case.”

“How the fuck could this happen?” May asked, only a fraction quieter.

“He’s rich, white, and has connections.”

“He nearly killed two innocent people!”

Peter carefully slipped his legs out of bed, toeing on his slippers and inching towards the door.

“He will pay, even if it kills me, I’ll make sure that he pays for what he did to Pete and Hap.”

Peter opened the door, alerting May and Mr. Stark to the fact that he was awake. They cast glances at each other meaningfully before their expressions smoothed out, they were planning to keep it from him.

Did they think that he couldn’t handle this? That he would break down at the thought of his almost murderer walking about normally? His only punishment being that he was losing his free time to help clean the streets of New York or something. Would they even suggest rehab?

“Hey, morning Peter, I thought I’d drop by on my way to work,” May said with her familiar, easy smile.

“Look at you, up on your own!” Mr. Stark said looking proud. “How do you feel?”

“My leg aches a little, where the break was, but otherwise I’m alright,” Peter mumbled, looking between the two of them, come on, come clean and tell me.

“Well, sit yourself down, I’m making breakfast and you can take your painkillers.” Mr. Stark said.

“You’re making breakfast? You?” Peter asked as he hesitantly took a seat at the table.

“Hey!” Mr. Stark protested, flicking some pancake batter Peter’s way. It landed on his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m a great cook. Back when the Avengers were an actual team, me, Cap and Bruce would make huge meals. We could have fed an army; trust me Cap would have known.”

“Do you miss those days?” Peter asked, taking a sip of the glass of milk that was placed in front of him; Mr. Stark didn’t let him drink coffee. Apparently, he had his hands full enough without a caffeinated Spider-Kid sticking to his ceiling, Peter hadn’t mentioned that he had never been on the ceiling in the Compound…at least not that Mr. Stark had seen.

“Sometimes,” Mr. Stark replied with a shrug, “but I prefer these days more.”

May smiled, seemingly understanding whatever Mr. Stark had meant by that.

“You’re weird.” Peter declared, wiping the milk moustache away with the back of pyjama top’s sleeve.

“Peter!” May scolded in exasperation. “There’s a stack of napkins right there.”

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

Peter bluffed his way through breakfast and made his excuses to leave and shower as soon as he thought he would get away with it – too soon and they may have realised that he had been listening to their conversation.

“Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” Peter asked quietly.

“Yes, Peter?”

“Uh, if I asked you to look someone up, would you tell on me?” Peter asked, feeling like a little kid trying to convince an older sibling not to tattle to mom.

“It depends on who you want me to look up and what information you would like to know about them.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

“Oh, ok, so theoretically if I asked you to look up someone called George Hendersen, would you tell MR. Stark about that?” Peter asked.

“Yes, George Kieran Hendersen is on the list of people you are not allowed access to, and should you request it I will be forced to send an alert to Mr. Stark’s cell.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him.

“You haven’t though, right?” Peter asked quickly. “I wasn’t asking you to actually do it, I said ‘theoretically’.”

“Correct, the alert has not yet been sent.”

“Great, uh, thanks F.R.I.”

“No problem.”

Peter groaned and shoved his face in his pillow, of course Mr. Stark would put safeguard in place, this was the man who had created the baby monitor and training wheels protocols.

He knew Peter, but… he didn’t know Peter’s friends.

Peter pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text to his best friend:

‘Hey Ned, I need you to do me a favour and look up a George Kieran Hendersen pls’

Send.

Ned was probably at school, but that didn’t stop him from replying in a matter of seconds. Sorry dude, Mr. Stark already said I couldn’t.

Well, fuck…

Peter could have screamed into his pillow.

-

Blood. There was blood everywhere, it was surrounding Peter, preparing to drown him and he couldn’t breathe. He was covered in the thick dark red liquid. It filled every gap and stained everything around him.

He was in the car, the Audi, but it didn’t look like it normally did. The silver paintwork was coated in the sickening red liquid, and the metal frame was twisted and jagged; it looked sharp and ready to bite Peter.

“Happy, we need to stop, this is wrong.” Peter said, from his place in the back seat.

Happy couldn’t hear him.

The glass shattered.

“Happy, we need to stop, something bad is going to happen.” Peter continued.

He still couldn’t hear Peter, he needed to get closer, Peter pushed the button to release his seatbelt but it nothing happened. He jammed his finger against it repeatedly, trying his hardest to free himself from the strangling hold it had on him.

“Happy, please, stop the car, he’s going to hit us.” Peter begged. “Please! Stop! Stop the car! Stop the c-”

“-eter! Peter! Come on kiddo, that’s it, come on,” Mr. Stark’s voice pulled him from the blood filled, twisted car.

“Misser Star’?” Peter slurred in confusion, before the panic brought him back to consciousness faster. “Blood, I’m covered in blood, and I can’t move.”

“There’s no blood kiddo.”

“No blood?” Peter mumbled out the question in confusion, how was that possible? He could feel it, it was everywhere. He was covered in it.

“No blood.” Mr. Stark confirmed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you turn the lights up please?”

Peter blinked against the harsh light but allowed Mr. Stark to pull him up into a sitting position, still leaning heavily against the older man.

“Look, kiddo, no blood.” Mr. Stark confirmed.

He was right. “But it was so real?” Peter marvelled, running a hand over his t-shirt, trying to find traces of the red liquid that he had been so convinced was there.

“Nightmares will do that to you, kiddo.”

“It wasn’t a nightmare.” Peter mumbled.

“No?” Mr. Stark asked, “what would you call it then?”

“I uh, I don’t know,” Peter mumbled. “I’m fine though, I’m completely fine.”

“Come on,” Mr. Stark said, standing up and holding out a hand to pull Peter up off the bed.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked.

“Well, me and Happy were having hot cocoa and I figure you’d benefit from joining us.” Mr. Stark said.

“You guys are having hot cocoa?” Peter asked in confusion.

“He’s still getting migraines and I’m meant to be caffeine free after 6pm.” Mr. Stark said with a shrug.

Happy had been improving, slowly but surely, it had been a month since the accident and Peter was physically all better, but he refused to leave the compound until he knew that Happy was better. Thankfully, Mr. Stark had been able to use his influence to organise online classes for Peter to complete the year and May had understood.

Peter was lucky.

Happy was lucky.

So why wasn’t it good enough? Why was he still faced with the nightmares and the memories? Why did he flinch when a car honked its horn? Why did he wish he had taken Happy’s place? Why did he wish Hendersen could feel the same pain they had felt?

“It’s a bit late for you to be up.” Happy commented as Peter sat opposite him, Peter followed his gaze to the clock – 01:21 – huh, maybe it was a little late.

“One hot cocoa coming right up, peppermint free for the spider.” Mr. Stark announced as he rummaged in the fridge for milk.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Peter lied to Happy.

“Yes, you could,” Happy corrected, “you just couldn’t forget.”

“Can you?” Peter asked.

Maybe 1am was the time to be honest, maybe when the safety of daylight was gone, the night-time allowed them to be vulnerable with each other.

“No.” Happy said gruffly. “Honestly, I can’t forget any of it, and I’ll never stop feeling sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Peter asked, frowning to himself.

“For not stopping in time.” Happy said.

“The light was green; you were right to go.” Peter said, staring at Mr. Stark’s back as he did so, he couldn’t meet Happy’s gaze. He couldn’t look him in the eye while knowing that he was the reason that the accident had happened.

“I saw the truck coming.” Happy said. “I just couldn’t do anything in time, I couldn’t stop quick enough or swerve out of the way. I could have killed you kid, because I couldn’t do anything other than panic.”

“Happy…” Peter paused, trying to work through everything that he’d just heard. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard you say, and you told me you hate froyo.”

“Yeah, me and Hap have been trying to work through his misguided guilt over the accident.” Mr. stark said, placing a mug in front of Peter.

“It’s not misguided.”

“You’re right, it’s completely unwarranted.” Mr. Stark said.

Wait. What?

“Happy, no,” Peter interrupted, “you don’t need to feel guilty, none of this was your fault. It was mine. I should have been on time after Decathlon practice, I should have been ten minutes earlier and then we wouldn’t have been at that intersection at the same time as Hendersen, I should have gotten to the tower some other way. You are Mr. Stark’s head of security; you shouldn’t be chasing me around the city or chauffeuring me back and forth between here and Queens.”

“Kid, Happy is the only one I would trust with you.” Mr. Stark said. “Both of you need to get off your self-sacrificial high horses and accept that the only person who should be taking any blame for this is the guy who decided to drive whilst drunk.”

“Tony told me you were trying to look him up.” Happy said quietly.

Peter’s gaze shot to Mr. Stark who was purposefully looking at the countertop, he knew? Why hadn’t he said anything?

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. you’re a traitor.” Peter mumbled.

“I did not tell Mr. Stark about your theoretical enquiry.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informed him.

“You didn’t?”

“No, she didn’t, it was Ned.” Mr. Stark said.

“Ned?” Peter asked, betrayed by his own best friend.

“Yeah, he’s worried about you, you’ve been dodging his calls, ignoring his texts and then you randomly messaged him asking him to trace the person who hit you and Happy.” Mr. Stark said. “I think he’s pretty right to be worried.”

“I’m fine.” Peter said.

“No, you’re not.” Mr. Stark interrupted.

“I am.”

“You’re not,” Happy said, “and I know, because I’m not either.”

“You- you’re not?” Peter asked.

“Not at all, Kiddo.”

-

Two long, difficult months had passed since the accident. Peter was doing fine, he really was, despite what Happy and Mr. Stark said. He was going out as Spider-Man for a couple of hours each evening, he was meeting his friends once or twice a week and he was planning to ask MJ on a date.

He was fine.

Sure, he was still having nightmares, he refused to get in a car, and he would freak out at the sight of blood – which in retrospect made being Spider-Man slightly more difficult, but he was doing fine.

He didn’t really understand why he was still having so many ‘problems’.

He was alive.

He should be grateful for that; he knew that Happy was. Happy was even driving around the Compound, he wasn’t quite at the point where he could drive the streets of New York, but he was certainly doing well within private grounds.

May had brought up the subject of him moving back into the apartment a few times, and Peter wanted to, he really did, but every time he ventured into the city there were cars everywhere. They were loud, their tyres would screech, and horns would blare. Even though Peter wasn’t in them, he was scared.

He knew he was worrying everyone.

He was worrying himself.

“Peter, this isn’t your normal patrol area.” Karen said, interrupting Peter’s thoughts.

“I know, K, I just have something to do here,” Peter mumbled, as he scaled a building, eyes fixed on the balcony that he remembered from his computer screen, “it won’t take long.”

“Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark to your detour?”

“What? No! why would I want that?” Peter asked, irritation staining his tone. Why was everyone so ready to snitch on him?

“Just in case back up was required.” Karen said. “But your wishes have been noted.”

“Thanks, I promise, we’ll be back to our normal patrols soon.”

By normal – peter did not mean normal at all – he meant a short patrol in a low traffic area of town. He wasn’t ready to handle car accidents and hijackings just yet. Soon, but not right now.

The door to the balcony was slightly open, obviously the man inside hadn’t expected anyone to climb up to the seventh floor, after all, why would he?

“No, no, no, Jennifer, stop, think about this.” A man pleaded, he sounded so normal.

“I can’t do this anymore George,” Jennifer said, “I just can’t, you don’t even have any remorse.”

“I have plenty of remorse!” George shouted. Peter flinched. “I’m not allowed to drive anymore, my job laid me off, you and the kids have been so distant lately and that fucker, Stark, is still coming for me.”

“They’re all consequences.” Jennifer said. “That’s not remorse for your actions.”

“What more do you want?”

“I want you to look fucking sorry, that kid you hit? Stark’s intern? He’s the same age as your daughter.”

“I know that!”

“Why don’t you care?”

“He’s fine, he’s got Stark’s money, he won’t even care at this point.”

“This is about money?”

“No, it’s about you being a fucking judgemental bitch when you’ve made mistakes.” George shouted.

“Yeah, my biggest one was marrying you!”

SLAM

Huh, maybe Hendersen wasn’t as happy as Peter had thought, but still, he wasn’t as guilty as he’d hoped. He didn’t even seem to care that he was drunk driving, he only cared that he had been caught.

“Hey, Karen?” Peter whispered.

“I’m here.”

“Can you tell Mr. Stark that I’ll be home early tonight?” Peter asked.

“Sure thing.”

Peter had meant to confront Hendersen, to shout at him and tell him how much his actions had hurt Peter and his family, but now it seemed pointless. If Hendersen’s wife wasn’t getting through to him, why would he care what Peter had to say? Why would he care that Peter was still traumatised and scared? He wouldn’t.

Peter had heard the cocky edge to his voice, he knew that nothing he said would break through. It was pointless.

But peter wanted to be better.

Thwip

Thwip

He wanted to be the old Peter, the one who had carelessly thrown his backpack in the car and jumped in behind it. The one who knew accidents happened but never thought that any would happen to him.

Nobody ever does, Peter thought bitterly, as he ran out of trees to swing from and resorted to trudging the last few miles to the Compound.

“Hey, Pete,” a metallic voice said from beside him causing him to jump nearly a mile out of his skin, why hadn’t he heard him approach? Was he that off his game?

“Mr. Stark.”

“Karen said you’d be early.” Mr. Stark said, the suit retracting so he could walk beside Peter.

“Yeah, I told her to.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mr. Stark asked.

Did he?

Not really.

Yes.

“I went to Hendersen’s apartment.” Peter admitted. He heard Mr. Stark’s sharp inhale, but was grateful that he wasn’t interrupting, instead he was letting Peter talk. “I know I shouldn’t have. It was stupid.”

Peter pulled his mask off, he was on the Compound grounds, there wouldn’t be anyone going about to see him.

“It was.” Mr. Stark agreed.

“I didn’t speak to him.” Peter said. “I just stood outside; he was arguing with his wife.”

He has a wife, and kids, he’s such an ordinary man.

“Did it help?”

“No.” Peter said simply. “I want to hate him. I wanted to talk to him and make him hurt as much as I did, but then I heard him talking to his wife and I don’t know anymore. I don’t think that any amount of talking would help. He was a bad guy.”

“It’s not fair.” Mr. Stark said.

“I don’t know what I wanted.” Peter admitted. “I guess I’m just fed up of feeling like this.”

“Scared?”

“Always.” Peter mumbled. “It was a car accident, people have them all the time, why can’t I just get over it?”

“because you’re a kid, and it was scary and it’s not something you’re going to be able to forget about quickly.” Mr. Stark said.

“I should be stronger.”

“You’re plenty strong.” Mr. Stark said. “You’re the strongest kid I know, in fact you’re stronger than most adults.”

“But-”

“No buts on this on, Underoos.” Mr. Stark said.

“Aren’t I making your life harder by being here though?”

“Not in the slightest, I love having you here, just ask Pepper and May.” Mr. Stark said. “I’d keep you if I could.”

“I’d stay if I could.” Peter admitted. “I’m scared to go back to May’s.”

“Have you thought anymore on my offer of therapy?” Mr. Stark asked.

“I have…” Peter said, hesitating, he didn’t want to take Mr. Stark’s money, but… “I think I want to go for it.”

“I’ll support you every step of the way, Kiddo.” Mr. Stark promised.

“I know.” Peter said. “I heard something else at Hendersen’s… he said you were going after him?”

“Damn right I am,” Mr. Stark said, ruffling Peter’s hair, “he hurt one of my closest friends and my kid.”

[sakurasangcl]

Come Back

Pairing: werewolf!Jaehyun x reader

Word Count: 2.3k 

Warning: sexual harassment, possible rape (didn’t happen: Y/N wakes up in Jaehyun’s shirt in his bed)

Moonlight Symphony Masterlist

On the Friday after your 21st birthday, you and your friends went out to celebrate. You went to a dancing club to drink and have fun. Unfortunately for you, hindsight is 20/20. You should have eaten more and better food, as well as made sure to keep a (sober) friend with you at all times. Regretting things can't change the past, and you know this well. 

After one drink, you were a little tipsy. After two, you were drunk. Your vision wasn't too blurry, but everything was hilarious. A few drinks later and you couldn't quite walk straight and your words were a little slurred. 

"Hey," you tell your nearest friend. "I'm gonna go outside for some fresh air." 

And you do just that. Your heels click on the scuffed up wooden floor as you opened the door and took in the night breeze. 

You didn't notice the men who followed you outside until the spoke up. 

"Hey girl, what's your name?" One of them asked. 

"Y/n," you absentmindedly say.

"That's a sexy name. Did you come here by yourself?" A different one spoke. 

"Nope." You respond, popping the ‘p.’ 

If you weren't so drunk, you would have noticed the anxious looks they tossed around. 

"Do you want to come home with me?" One of them boldly asked, resting his hand on your hip. "I doubt who you came with would mind. I'll treat you well." 

"Any of us-" the second guy started.

"Or all of us," someone else interrupted. 

"Would treat you well," He finished.

You weakly shake your head no and turn to head inside. However, the one gripping your waist held you still. 

"Come on baby, why so prude, hmm? I'll make you feel real good, promise." He says, rubbing circles with his thumbs. 

Suddenly a rather muscular, attractive man appears. He growls and pulls you into him, and you swear he calls you his girlfriend. But before you can figure anything out, you pass out. 

When you wake up in the morning, the night before is a blur. You immediately notice that you're not in your own room, nor in that if a friend's. You look around and see the most attractive man in bed next to you. He's deeply asleep, and has the body of Michelangelo's statue of David, but better. 

A thrill of fear runs through you as you sit up to get out of bed and you're wearing just a shirt that definitely wasn't yours, considering that it was too big on you. 

Did we have sex last night? You cant… you cant properly consent when you're drunk… Did we at least use a condom? Shouldn't I be a little sore?

You had many unanswered questions as you quietly gather your things, hoping not to disturb the sleeping man. You quickly change back into your clothes, leaving his shirt on the floor. 

When you leave his room, you find yourself in a house full of boys. You turn red and keep your head down, feeling horrid. They look at you, surprised. One of them tries to say something to you, but you quickly leave before the chance is given. 

It makes sense why they're called the walk of shame…

You make it outside and find out that you really aren't in the city anymore. So, you call an uber and make it home. 

You don't talk to any of your friends about what happened… nor does it really seem like they know or remember themselves. Of course, most of them drank a lot, thought someone else took you home, or thought you went home with someone. One of your friends saw you leave with a hot, muscular guy. 

You didn't say much to anyone after that, and the same friend that saw you leave with the guy you woke up with, Yeri, was afraid that you were falling into a depressive episode. Because of who she was, you couldn't avoid her forever.

Yeri ended up showing up at your work right when you were leaving. She grabbed your arm with her surprisingly strong grip, and starts guiding you to a nearby coffee shop.

"I know you're stressed and going through a lot, so we are getting coffee and talking. And I know you have some extra spending cash because you house sat the other week." Yeri began, guiding you to the line. 

The intoxicating smell of coffee calms you for the time being, letting you relax a little. 

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" She softly asks you, moving up in line. 

"I know," you murmur, looking up at the menu. "But I just don't always know the words for what I need to say." It was then that you notice one of the baristas is extremely familiar. Your eyes widen in surprise and you look away blushing. It was the hot guy you woke up next to. 

"Earth to y/n, earth to y/n. Is everything okay?" Yeri asks, concerned. 

You gulp and nod as you realize your next in line, and he is the one taking orders. 

You shyly step up and order a green tea latte, not meeting his eyes. "What's your name?" He asks, and it sounds more like him being genuine than just needing to write it down on the cup.

"Y/n," you tell him, glancing up at his handsome face. 

He then asks you to spell your name and you do, glancing at his nametag that said 'Jaehyun.' He smiles brightly, dimples showing. "Alright. Thank you y/n. I can help who is next in line."

You stay rooted in your spot, your eyebrows knitting together. You hadn't paid for your drinks. You were about to say something when he adds, "Don't worry about it. It's my treat, okay?" 

You mutely nod and go wait for your drink and Yeri, dazed. 

A younger man calls your name, and he smiles at you as you take your drink. On it is numbers  you make it out to be a phone number. You look quizzically at the guy who gave you your drink, and he grins and points to the mysterious hottie, Jaehyun. You nod slightly and head to Yeri's side, going and sitting at a table. 

You two start conversing, and she pries you and gets you talking some. Eventually, she brought up the inevitable.

"So the barista. The one who wrote their number on your cup. He's the one you went home with." Yeri says, looking at him suspiciously. 

"Yeah, apparently…" you admit, not denying what must have happened.

"Do you not remember?" She asks, suddenly worried. "If he drugged you I don't care how big he is. I will fight him."

You shake your head no. "I was just drunk. Besides, I'm sure plenty of girls are head over heels for him and he's super hot. He could easily get laid if he wanted to."

"You're not wrong. But still, you did end up with him. That's suspicious." 

"I suppose he must have just changed me… that's why I thought we did something. My period came and went, so everything is fine that way. But I really don't know…"

"Wait, like he changed your clothes?" 

"Well, yeah…" 

"What the fuck?! No. So not okay," she says, standing up and about to march over to yell at him. 

"Please don't, Yeri. I'm as confused as you," You softly beg. 

"Fine, but I'm asking Joohyun if she knows him. But judging by his age.. I'll ask Sooyoung instead. If anyone knows anything, its her," Yeri derisively responds. She then sends a quick text before giving you her full attention. "Do you want to go over what you remember? I'm pretty sure Soyeon said she saw you leave with a guy… that's why I wasn't worried. But honestly, knowing you, I should have been. I feel bad I wasn't more cautious over you. I was too busy being the mom friend for everyone else. I hate being the mom friend," Yeri grumbles. 

You can't help but laugh at her rant, as it was true. No one liked taking the role of the mom friend when everyone was drinking. Yeri was just stuck with it as the designated driver. 

"I just… the last thing I remember was going outside for air. My head got clouded and there were some guys… then one guy, probably…" you gesture to Jaehyun, "since I woke up in his bed… called me his girlfriend. That's all I remember besides waking up. I made the walk of shame! I hated it!" You admit, glancing around to make sure no one heard you. 

When Yeri's phone buzzes, she reads the notification. "Sooyoung says he's a good guy, and really not interested in most girls... Maybe you're his perfect type? Okay, she said he isn't a player and is both overly confident and awkward as hell around girls. It varies. She also says he's not the kind to do the deed when drunk." 

"Did you tell her what I said?" You demand of your best friend, upset and turning red.

"Kind of? I asked about him and if he was a player especially around drunk people. She's not that thick headed to not know what happened at the party," Yeri explains.

Your shoulders slump in defeat and you nod, knowing Yeri was right. However, Sooyoung's response left you with more questions than before. 

"I can't- I don't know-" you try to let Yeri understand your frustration. You want to know the answers as to what happened, but at the same time, you're afraid of what they could be. You let out a heavy sigh as you formulate a proper sentence. "I want to know but I'm also afraid to find the truth," you tell her, fear clawing at your stomach. 

"I totally understand that. But wouldn't it be nice if nothing happened and it's just a misunderstanding?" Yeri suggests gently. "I mean, there's no harm in at least texting him. He obviously remembers you. Maybe he just wants to clear the air." 

You know Yeri doesn't mean to pressure you in a negative way, and she always seems to have your best interest in mind. This time… well, it feels different. You're torn between giving this man a bit of trust or doing your best to never see him again. You can't differentiate what your stomach is telling you or your head. You were completely conflicted. 

You start to feel overwhelmed, and your brain goes to autopilot. You listen to what Yeri said and type out a message to Jaehyun, that read: 

Hi. This is Y/N.

You know he wont reply right away since he is working, but you try to ignore the impulsivity of what you did and do your best not to regret it. 

"Well there's that…" you mumble, setting your phone on the table.

Less than a minute later, your phone buzzes anyways. 

Hey Y/N! Sorry, my coworker put my number on your cup… My name is Jaehyun, by the way. I’m sorry things ended up like this.

Would you maybe like to meet sometime so I can try to explain?

“What do you think I should do, Yeri?” you ask, showing her your phone and trying not to cry. 

“Give it to me. I’ll have Seulgi go with you. Does that sound good? You know how intimidating she can be when she wants, you know?” Yeri gently says, typing a response. “I have your back. We all do.” 

You nod and help Yeri figure out the logistics. Jaehyun isn’t even bothered by you asking to bring a friend. 

When you finally did agree to meet Jaehyun in person, you wore simple clothes. You had Yeri with you, and she was being very protective and careful with you. 

Jaehyun felt a pang in his heart, because he knew he messed up. He should have left you in his bed without him, but he couldn’t leave you. Not when you smelt like them. Looking at you with Yeri by your side, he could scent your fear and unease. He smiled sweetly at the two of you, and greeted you both. You were outside on campus, sitting at one of the tables outside. 

“Y/N, there’s a lot I need to explain to you,” he gently begins, glancing at Yeri. 

She smiled slightly, because she knew something you didn’t. 

“Okay?” you respond, looking to Yeri. She nods, so you look back at Jaehyun.

He smiles once more, and it’s contagious. You stop yourself from smiling, only because you were too anxious. 

“So,” Jaehyung begins. “First and foremost. You passed out drunk and I didn’t know what to do. So I took you home because I didn’t want those pervs touching you. My friend’s mate-uh, girlfriend, changed you into my shirt when she saw you, as she figured it wouldn’t have been comfortable. I stayed with you because I didn’t want you getting sick and throwing up and choking. I slept shirtless, but I was wearing pants. I swear. And you were the one who cuddled up to me in your sleep, so that just kind of happened on its own.” 

You stare at him blankly, taking in his words and judging the honesty behind them. 

“So you didn’t rape her?” Yeri asks for you, gently giving your hand a squeeze. 

If it weren’t crazy, you would have sworn his eyes flashed red. 

“I didn’t lay a finger on her like that. I would never harm her.” Jaehyun says, and you feel the sincerity in his words. “I’d rather hurt myself.” 

You give him a sideways glance, confused as to why he felt so strongly for you. He was being extremely altruistic, and it surprises you.

“Do you say that to every girl?” you ask. 

He shakes his head, looking away bashfully. “No,” he admits. “But, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to start over with you. You’re… well, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. And you must be a wonderful person since you willingly met with me after that misunderstanding.” 

Before Yeri can stop you, or before you can even fully process what you say, you respond. “Yes, I’d like that.” 

[drawing-way-outside-the-lines]

Malou (’Mia Mayhem’) Jensen *Main character

Voice Claim:(Olivia Wilde) https://youtu.be/bV6cC-rUMCs?t=1m13s (Right click on links and open in new tab)

Partner(s): Dalton. Parents: None. Kids: None. Age: 37 (Year 2020) 26th of May. Height: 173cm Body type: Slim. Eye color: Light blue/gray Human: Immortal.

About: Caring, Individualistic, Generous, Passionate, Creative, Adventurous, Sarcastic, Charismatic, Clever, Compassionate, Sensitive, Freethinking, Friendly, Helpful, Sharing,  Humble, Self-critical, Understanding, Witty, Open-minded, Absentminded, Emotional, Brooding, Skeptical, Stubborn, Shy, Introvert, Observant, Anxious, Cautious, Genuine, Awkward and Clumsy. ~ Straight, but loves to watch gay porn. Is borderline Asexual when it comes to straight sex. ~ Has several tattoos on her body, mainly Geeky, representing some of the fandoms she’s in. ~ Her favorite tattoo is the unicorn she has on her left hand. ~ Colors her hair electric blue. ~ Is a writer/artist. ~ Currently learning to write song lyrics/sing/play guitar. ~ Lives with her roomie, Dalton. ~ Used to attend a design school where she would sew clothes all day, now she can’t stand sewing by machine, and only does things she can sew by hand. ~ HUGE cat lover. - Has 3 of her own, Oliver, BMO and Bunny. ~ Used to be very skinny and hated when people assumed she had an eating disorder, or called her names like giraffe or spider legs, when she actually had a very large appetite and always ate a lot. ~ Always smells like burned incense and wood. ~ Hates most artificial smells, loves earthy tones. ~ Loves to collect creepy stuff. ~ Atheist. ~ Has a pretty dark sense of humor. ~ Drinks almost nothing but tea. ~ Is probably made of tea? ~ Dislikes society. ~ Flannel/tartan addict. ~ Super power = anxiety. ~ Believes in unicorns and magic. ~ Strong-willed. ~ Stomps around in big boots. ~ Once kicked a taxi cause the driver was an ass. ~ Hates when people repeatedly sticks their nose in her business. ~ Orphan. ~ Pretty good cook. ~ Fills her bed with plushies to make up for the fact she hasn't shared her bed with anyone half a decade at least. ~ Lonely. ~ Melancholic. ~ Romantic at heart though she never fully admits it. ~ Cares too much for her own good. ~ 100/10 would do anything for the people she loves. ~ Is very honest, if you can’t handle the truth, don’t ask for it. ~ Was abused physically and mentally as a child, as result she sometimes suffers from anxiety, Depression and bad nerves. ~ Can be rather pessimistic. ~ Hates freezing. ~ Uncomfortable around people. ~ Loves her friends, her cats, Rock music, chillout music, pandas, unicorns, owls, wolves, ravens, deer, bears, foxes, Deadpool, watching movies, plushies, licorice, writing, being creative in any way, light chains, grungy stuff, neon lights, Christmas, Halloween, Halloween-type decor, Hello Kitty, 90′s stuff, spearmint, finding deeper meaning in stuff around her, stickers, Anti-Heroes, collecting penis decor, spooky stuff, anything made out of raw wood, flannel, daydreaming, weird/cute/extraordinary mugs, leather wristbands, gay porn, dancing to loud music, Rick & Morty, coloring books, cozy blankets, strange backpacks, gemstones/crystals, nature and scented candles. ~ Her style changes with her mood. One day she wears bright colorful stuff with rainbows and unicorns. Next day it’s black clothes with witchy/creepy symbols/prints or dirty jeans and oversized flannel shirts. ~ Can be pretty grumpy, but it’s usually nothing more than just that. Malou’s tag Malou’s house/home Malou’s moodboard Handwriting/ask answer pic:

One Gif to describe her:

One song to describe her:  Mumford & Sons - Hopeless Wanderer Personal playlist: 1. Incubus - Drive 2. D-A-D - Laugh 'n' A ½ 3. Godsmack - Serenity 4. Jack Johnson - All At Once 5. Damon Albarn – On Melancholy Hill (acoustic) 6. Tim Christensen - Whispering At The Top Of My Lungs 7. Linkin Park - Papercut 8. Nirvana - Plateau 9. Gorillaz - Tomorrow Comes Today 10. Serj Tankian - Left Of Center 11. Korn - Freak On a Leash 12. The White Stripes - Hardest Button To Button 13. Gorillaz - Aries ft. Peter Hook & Georgia 14. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Can't Stop 15. Madrugada - Sirens 16. Alabama 3 - Woke Up This Morning 17. Gorillaz - Amarillo 18. Jewel - Absence Of Fear 19. Angels and Airwaves - Secret Crowds 20. Blur - Girls And Boys 21. Gorillaz - Saturnz Barz (Spirit House) 22. Cigarettes After Sex - Sweet  23. Jewel - Deep Water 24. Jack Johnson - Sleep Through the Static 25. Damon Albarn - Lonely Press Play 26. D-A-D - Empty Heads 27. R.E.M. - Drive 28. Incubus - Promises, Promises 29. Chris Cornell - Billie Jean 30. Blur - Colin Zeal 31. Puscifer - Momma Sed 32. Heartless Bastards - Only For You 33. Gorillaz - El Mañana 34. Angels & Airwaves - Breathe 35. The Beatles - Come Together 36. 4 Non Blondes - What's Up 37. Gorillaz - Momentary Bliss ft. slowthai & Slaves 38. Norah Jones - Come Away With Me 39. Blur - Mirrorball 40. Incubus - Black Heart Inertia 41. Limp Bizkit feat. Method Man N 2 Gether Now 42. 2Pac - Changes ft. Talent 43. D-A-D - Bad Craziness 44. Nirvana - Pennyroyal Tea 45. Blur - Ong Ong 46. Angels and Airwaves - Do It For Me Now 47. Right Said Fred - What A Day For A Daydream 48. Damon Albarn - Everyday Robots 49. The Human League - I’m The Law 50. Jamiroquai - Virtual Insanity 51. Linkin Park - A Place For My Head 52. Blink -182 - Down 53. 3 Doors Down - Duck And Run 54. Alanis Morissette - Hand In My Pocket 55. Savage Garden - The Animal Song 56. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Scar Tissue 57. Incubus - Dig 58. Green Day - Basket Case 59. LP - Lost On You [Live Session] 60. D-A-D - Sleeping My Day Away 61. Bob Marley - Buffalo Soldier 62. Beth Hart - Delicious Surprise 63. Extreme - Hole Hearted 64. Paul Simon - You Can Call Me Al 65. Jack Johnson - Breakdown 66. Damon Albarn - Photographs (You Are Taking Now) 67. Sticky Fingers - Cyclone (The Village Sessions) 68. Blur - Star Shaped 69. Serj Tankian - Empty Walls 70. The Dead South - Diamond Ring 71. The Kills - U.R.A Fever 72. Godsmack - I Stand Alone 73. Queen -  Bicycle Race 74. Alanis Morissette - Ironic 75. Dizzy Mizz Lizzy - Hidden War 76. Nirvana - About A Girl 77. Damon Albarn - Mr Tembo 78. Savage Garden - To The Moon & Back 79. Alannah Myles - Black Velvet 80. Jewel - Down So Long 81. Tep No - Swear Like A Sailor 82. Youssou N'Dour - 7 Seconds ft. Neneh Cherry 83. Gorillaz - Broken 84. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Road Trippin 85. Jewel - Good Day 86. Sheryl Crow - Everyday Is A Winding Road 87. Gorillaz - The Valley of The Pagans ft. Beck 88. Green Day - When I Come Around 89. Tim Christensen - Lay Down Your Arms 90. Gorillaz - Clint Eastwood 91. The Pretty Reckless - Zombie 92. Stereophonics - Maybe Tomorrow 93. Blackfield - My Gift of Silence 94. Dizzy Mizz Lizzy - Love Me a Little 95. Damon Albarn - Heavy Seas Of Love 96. The Paper Kites - Bloom 97. David Bowie - Heroes 98. The Beatles - Day Tripper 99. Gorillaz - Feel Good Inc. 100. Faithless - Mass Destruction 101. Limp Bizkit - My Generation (Uncensored) 102. Tasmin Archer - Sleeping Satellite 103. Jennifer Brown - Alive 104. Of Monsters And Men - Sloom 105. Panic! At The Disco - New Perspective 106. Limp Bizkit - Break Stuff(Explicit) 107. Blur - Lonesome Street 108. Sort Sol - Holler High 109. Jacob Lee - Demons (Philosophical Sessions) 110. Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here 111. Nina Simone  Feeling Good 112. The Human League - Darkness 113. Gorillaz - Strange Timez ft. Robert Smith 114. Des'ree - I'm Kissing You 115. Meredith Brooks - What Would Happen 116. Dan Black - Symphonies ft. Kid Cudi 117. The Kills - No Wow 118. Gorillaz - Fire Flies 119. Guns N' Roses - Patience 120. Incubus - In The Company Of Wolves 121. The Dead Weather - Will There Be Enough Water 122. Hooverphonic - Mad About You (Live at Koningin Elisabethzaal 2012) 123. Blur - The Universal 124. Sort Sol - Let Your Fingers Do The Walking 125. Roy Orbison - In The Real World 126. Corey Hart - Sunglasses At Night 127. Imagine Dragons - Radioactive (Henri Pfr & Hësling Edit) (Cover By Victoria) 128. Hollow Coves - These Memories 129. Beth Hart - Favorite Things 130. Catching Flies - Quiet Nights Bonus: Yello - Oh Yeah Double Bonus: Meredith Brooks - Bitch Triple Bonus: Seal - Crazy Almost done I swear!: Wolf Larsen - If I Be Wrong Last but not least: Tim Christensen - Enjoy The Silence

[probably-writing-x]

The Unknown One (Vol.6)

~A Noah Centineo AU Series~

Tags: @imarypayne @sunshine112 @sleepwalkingdragon @supernatural-girl97 @vibhati123 @butithasntkilledyouyet @faefictions @carisi-sonny

Inspiration: The boy next door cliché always seemed to happen in movies. But when this boy moved in to the house beside yours, he seemed willing to discover more than you wanted him to know.

Warnings: In-detail depictions of death (car accident), language warnings

Notes: I figured it was time for a big ol' fluffy chapter so here you go loves!

The knock at the door was persistent, awaiting an opening.

"Alright, alright," You sigh, opening the door to reveal Noah on the other side, "Hey,"

"I'm sorry, I'm just about to leave for the game," He stops when he sees you smile, "I assume everything's okay?"

"Yeah, the money came through. We're good," You grin, brushing your hair behind your ear, "So I was just about to leave too,"

"Ooh she's coming to see her favourite player," Noah cheers, spinning in his place on your front step.

You laugh at his confidence and his silly nature.

"I'll decide who's the best player once you win," You raise a brow, jogging down the steps and down the path from your house.

Noah shrugs, catching up to you and instinctively lacing his hand with yours, "Well you already think we'll win so that's enough,"

The two of you opt to take the walk to school, chatting the whole way. Noah had an amazing ability to make conversation out of everything so there wasn't a moment of silence between you.

"Alright I need to leave you because, well, the team need their main man," He grins, leaning down to kiss you on the lips quickly, "I'll spot you in the crowd,"

"Break a leg," You smile, "Or don't, yeah, definitely don't do that,"

He laughs and you can feel it rumble in his chest before he walks away to where the team were already beginning to group up.

You grab yourself a drink and some food before taking your seat among the rest of the students that had come to support the soccer team.

The first half is successful, Noah manages to score twice much to the excitement of his coach who could be heard shouting praises about his latest prodigy.

At half time, you notice Noah look up into the crowd for you and the smile on his face melts you just a little. Okay, a lot. You pull out your phone to text Leo's friend's mum, just to make sure they were all okay because you couldn't help but think about it.

A message pops up on your screen from none other than Noah too.

'Who could you possibly be texting that's more important than watching me sit on a bench? ;)'

You look up to see his gaze completely intent on his screen.

'Hmm, I have a lot of contacts'

'Trying to get someone to scout me for professionals? Wow, you're so supportive!'

You laugh and go to respond when you notice that the second half is just beginning. Noah stuffs his phone back into his bag and starts to jog back onto the field.

It is then that one of the opposition calls out to him.

"Centineo!" He yells from his position on the other side of the pitch, "Might want to be careful with that psycho girlfriend of yours,"

You see Noah's face drop only slightly, remaining relatively composed with all things considered.

Until one of the other players comments.

"Yeah, didn't she like kill her parents or something?" The opposing captain laughs, earning some support from his team.

Your heart drops and for a moment you're certain it stops all together. And you can't deny that Noah's probably does the same. He turns to find your eyes among the crowd. That look was what made you feel the worst. It was a mixture of fear, concern, disappointment?

You had to get out, quickly. You grab your things and run out of there like the place was on fire. It felt like your face was.

Now would he realise why you hated people at this school? And, hell, in this town?

~~~

It had been a few days since you'd spoken to Noah. He knocked at your house when he got back from the game but you pretended to already be asleep. You'd driven to school five minutes early to avoid him seeing you in the mornings and you'd spent the majority of your time in the library so you didn't have to worry about seeing him in the corridors.

His final, and most effective, chance is to head to the old building where you'd taken him on his first day. He hadn't been there since that day because he liked the idea of you having a place that was yours. But, when his sports lesson had finished and he saw you, he had to take the opportunity.

"Am I too late for entry?" His voice cuts into your silence and you look over the side of the roof to see him stood at the bottom of the ladder.

His tall frame looks small down there as his eyes peer up at you intently.

You don't respond and he takes it as signal to come and join you.

"Hey stranger," He comments, sitting a safe distance away.

"You don't want to be seen with me," You mumble, trying with everything to not look at him.

"I do," He states simply, "Because I fairly certain what those boys said was completely fake,"

"It depends how you look at it," You admit, looking up at him.

For a moment, his confidence and certainty falters because, damn, what if those assholes were telling the truth?

"My parents died two years ago. In a car accident," You begin, "We were going to this outdoor cinema thing that we used to go to every year. And this drunk driver started driving the wrong way down the road, and they hit straight into us. Mum managed to get Leo out pretty quickly but my dad stayed to get me out. And he did. But, as he did, we didn't realise the engine was on fire,"

Noah shuffles a little closer and his eyes give you a comfort that his words couldn't.

"I was covered in cuts, burns, everything," You explain further, "And my mum was so cautious about helping me and Leo that she didn't care about herself. She was cut across her stomach and she lost so much blood that the doctors said there was no hope," You clench your jaw because it stops your lips from trembling.

"Holy shit," He mutters, because how could anyone be put through that at such a young age?

"So, yeah, if I hadn't have been there my parents would still be alive. Leo would have a mum and a dad, they'd be happy," You stop yourself from carrying on because the tears in your eyes were far too strong to be held back.

"Don't say that," Noah shakes his head, pulling you into his chest and letting you cry into him, "Those people, they're assholes! They have no idea about you,"

You don't respond but manage to pull yourself away from his chest to properly look at him.

"You're unknown to them. And that's why they act like they do, because they don't understand you. They don't want to and so they choose to make it up based on rumours they hear or expectations they have," He continues and it sounds like everything makes some strange sort of sense.

You nod and purse your lips together to stop yourself from crying anymore.

"Come on, let's go home," He smiles, his thumb brushing over your hand comfortingly.

The two of you walk to your car and climb in, waiting silently for Leo to get in too.

"Hey kiddo," Noah smiles when he sees him, "How's school been man?"

Leo goes on to ramble about everything that was happening at school for him, all of his friends and his subjects. He absolutely loved it.

"Are you staying for dinner tonight?" Leo asks hopefully as he jumps out of the car, letting Bolt out too who'd been picked up from his daycare.

"Oh I don't have to," Noah assures you.

"Come on, it's pizza night tonight," You grin, finding his hand and leading him to the house.

~~~

Noah spends the entire evening at your house. You put on a random film of Leo's choosing and eat enough pizza to last a lifetime, realising you hadn't felt this happy in a very long time.

"Hey, I should head home," Noah comments as you come down from saying goodnight to Leo.

"Yeah sure, I'll see you tomorrow?" You raise your brows, following him to the door.

"Of course," He smiles, turning round to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You wait at the door as you watch him go up to his house and try to get in. Of course, he still hadn't figured out how to work his key properly.

"Fuck," He mumbles, pressing his forehead against the wooden frame, "And nobody's in,"

You laugh and roll your eyes, "Stay here,"

"No, that's okay," He shakes his head, clearly not wanting to pressure you, "My parents will be back in.." He stops to check the time, "A while,"

"Noah, come on," You tilt your head to the side, "There's a perfectly good couch downstairs and it will be much more comfortable than that step,"

"Are you sure?" He asks, walking towards you anyway.

"Positive," You smile, wrapping an arm around him when he came back inside.

~~~

It is strange that morning when Leo wakes up to the sound of an alarm and not the sound of you already rushing around the house. He pads downstairs, still half asleep, as he's cautious of why he still can't hear anything of you. And why your bed was empty - not even slept in.

When he makes his way into the lounge, he welcomes the sight. You and Noah are both sound asleep on the couch. Noah's arm is wrapped around you and your hand and head rest on his chest thay rises and falls in rhythm with his deep breathing. Leo's never seen you look this peaceful. It takes him back to when he'd come downstairs to see his mum and dad who'd also fallen asleep on the couch with a film forgotten on the TV screen. And, for a moment, he doesn't miss them. Because his sister, in what felt like her first moment of peace in years, was doing a damn good job for both of them.

[harryseyebrows]

What do you think the Hazoff kids would be like as teenagers?

i think jude’s personality stays pretty true and level his entire life; he’s always more quiet and reserved, even as he turns 11, 12, 13, etc. he’s very into reading and art and likes his personal space/time, but he also likes to be silly and weird and mess around with friends. he’s very well-liked in school. teachers never have anything bad to say about him. his classmates like having him around -- like harry, his sense of humor can be underrated sometimes, but people think he’s very funny. it takes him 3 times to pass his license test, not because he’s a bad driver, but because he’s so nervous that he freaks himself out and messes up. he’s the kid that harry and jeff dont really worry about, when it comes to going out/being home for curfew, but thats how he flies under the radar and gets away with more lol 

eli is..............yeah. he’s mouthier than jude. he clashes with harry and jeff a lot more. he goes through this phase where he really resents jude -- calls him the ‘golden child’ and accuses harry and jeff of playing favorites. it surprises eli, but harry is actually the one who’s most understanding about it. eli wont admit it at the time, but he’s secretly pleased by it, even though he acts indifferent. its just that he’s heard about what he was like when he was a baby -- how harry really struggled with everything -- and the fact that harry sticks up for him is nice. jude seems to have it so easy -- gliding through life with his nose in a book and everyone at his feet -- whereas eli has to work a bit harder. he puts more effort into trying to make people laugh. he focuses a lot of his energy on sports once he’s in high school, doing track and soccer and baseball -- always trying to stay busy. he’s also a very talented musician, but keeps it mostly a secret from his friends and peers, which harry and jeff don’t know quite what to make of that. he’s a good kid though. no real issues at school. cooperative at home when it suits him. business as usual lmao

river. hurricane river, more like. once he starts walking he doesnt stop moving. harry and jeff have him tested for adhd when he starts elementary school, and their suspicions were right. it’s challenging, but it gets easier as he gets older. by the time he’s on the cusp of being a teenager, he’s developed his own ways of dealing with it and managing his schoolwork. he’s a very hands-on kid. doesn’t mind getting dirty. he likes concrete things he can work on. so he takes his strength in math and his interest in creating things, and gets really into graphic design stuff. he also likes woodshop, and builds harry and jeff a few birdhouses. when he’s not keeping himself busy and engaged, he crashes sometimes. moves around the house like a moody slug. other times, he can be agitated and argumentative. him and eli are probably the most similar when they’re older, so they go at it the most. but they also have their moments where they’re like two peas in a pod. they like doing sports stuff together sometimes, and they like to run together. river also has jude paint some of the birdhouses he makes. 

willow is the baby of the family and its superrrr obvious lol i hesitate to use the word spoiled but... she’s spoiled. but also, because of the nature of her birth and being premature, harry and jeff are always extra cautious with her, even as she grows and is 100% in the clear health-wise. she finds is stifling sometimes, when she’s a full-blown teenager and isn’t ~allowed to do some of the same things her brothers are/were. its not that h&j forbid anything, or even directly ask her not to, but she can see it in their faces, that they’d rather she didn’t. the three boys naturally try to protect her as much as possible, but she doesnt give them much reason to warrant any real protection. she can take care of herself. she’s strong-willed and confident and doesnt take shit from anyone. her and jeff get along great. they like a lot of the same movies and he likes to share music with her. 

[imagine-darksiders]

Muria x florist!reader

This may be the worst thing I’ve written. :I

-----------

5 years after humanity’s resurrection... . .. . . 

The bell above your shop door tinkles and you wave a quick goodbye to the old gentleman as he staggers slowly past the glass window, bouquet for his wife in hand. 

With a quiet sigh of relief, you slump against the front desk and smile. The clock had rolled around to five in the afternoon, signalling the end of a long, tiring day.  Glad to finally be closing up, you turn to your till and start adding up the total for the day, ready to get back home and put your feet up. 

You’d’ve never guessed that your mother’s flower business would look so appealing after humanity had been returned to Earth, but as it turned out, the apocalypse had drastically affected local fauna. On the whole, nature had thrived in the absence of humans. The stronger breed of trees all but swept over the cities and towns, toppling concrete infrastructure and infesting the old buildings and skyscrapers with their broad trunks breaking through the floors and crashing up through the ceilings. It was beautiful, in a way, to see nature take back what it had lost. But some plants weren't so lucky. 

Flowers had suffered immensely, especially without people to properly care for the more domestic species or those that required a lot of upkeep. Even wildflowers hadn’t seen room to grow in the new heat of the city, generated by the rivers of lava that now flow beneath the streets. As a result of the lack of flowers, florists were suddenly in high demand. So you saw the opportunity and seized it. 

Turns out, people will always want flowers. 

Not five minutes after you’d begun to tidy up the shop, there comes a soft knock on the glass door. You can’t quite keep the groan from trickling up your throat before turning around, ready to tell the tardy shopper that they’ll have to try again in the morning. To your pleasant surprise, it’s Tom; one of the drivers who delivers your goods. You’d all but given up on him actually getting the next shipment of flowers to you on time, for a change. Although he’s nice enough, Tom tends to be unreliable. The burly truck driver motions for you to open the door, to which you give him a ‘keep your hair on’ motion and unlock it for him. 

“Bout time,” you grin, only half teasing. 

Tom huffs, straightening his newsboy cap. “Yeah, you know how traffic is around here. I unloaded your stuff for you, s’round the back of the shop.”

Grunting your thanks, you bid him a good night and head back through your shop to the small, walled garden at the back, where you keep most of your stock before moving it into the storage room above your shop. 

You shake your head upon seeing that Tom has essentially dumped the flowers down in a messy heap against the back wall. With a heavy sigh, you drop to your knees beside them and gather up an armful, carefully standing again and raising your head to the bright blue sky. The height of summer has hit once again, bathing the world in much missed sunlight and warmth. After the cold, darkness of the grave, you’ve learnt not to take the light for granted. So when you suddenly find yourself cast in a large shadow, the shiver that rockets through you is not unlike one you’d feel if someone walked over your grave. 

Spinning on your heel, you drop the flowers and let out a loud yelp of fright as your eyes land upon the caster of the shadow and your mouth drops open so sharply, you’re sure you may have accidentally dislocated your jaw. 

Standing high above you, having hardly made a sound at all despite it’s size, is one of those makers. They’re an old species of giant craftsmen who’ve only recently made themselves know to humankind. First contact had been - surprisingly - peaceful. Though tragically few in number, they’d still come together to aid humans in the rebuilding of Earth. As far as you know, they’re friendly enough, but you’ve never actually seen one yourself. Even so, you’re able to identify this one as a maker by its sheer size alone. 

Or rather, her sheer size. 

Shielding your eyes against the sun that burns down above her head, you notice that this maker is distinctly feminine. Thick, silver hair, soft as spun silk cascades down over her broad shoulders, curling gently at the tips with a heavy braid hanging to her waist. Tangled into the side of the locks, you can make out a strange but beautiful blue flower. Her dress is faded teal, similar to the shade of her hair accessory and it hangs low so as to sweep elegantly along the ground when she walks.. The line of her full lips is curved into a soft, easy smile, but perhaps the most distinctive thing about this maker is the stripe of azure cloth that’s wrapped around her head, completely obscuring her eyes from view. A spark of curiosity compels you to wonder what her eyes look like beneath it. 

Embarrassingly, you flinch violently when her mouth opens to speak, but then you find that her voice is not the loud, authoritative one you expected from a creature who commands such obvious power. 

“My apologies, human. Frightening you was not my intent,” she offers, shifting so that her weight is resting on the impressive tree-trunk of a staff in her hand, “My name is Muria. Are you alright?” She stoops to the ground and feels around for the dropped flowers, finding them then delicately plucking them up between her broad fingers to hold out to you. 

Functioning solely on autopilot, you take them back and try to think of something to say. To your dismay however, instead of offering anything eloquent to the conversation, you blurt out, “Y-you’re a maker!” 

Muria inclines head, standing back up to her full height and the smile that plays on her lips grows wider. “Is that so? Well I suppose I’ll just have to take you at your word.” Her disarmingly charming grin is proof that she’s amused, not offended, but you still feel horrified that you’d just insulted her.

“I am so sorry! I...Wait, are you blind?” you breathe. 

That gets her to gush out a soft laugh as she brushes a finger over the cloth on her eyes. “Were I not, then this would be a poor choice of headgear.”

“I...I think I should probably just stop talking,” you huff breathlessly, carding your fingers through your hair.

The maker frowns a little and tilts her head to the side, giving the distinct impression that she’s regarding you despite her blindness. “Oh, please don’t,” she falters, “Frankly I find your manner quite refreshing. And I’ve so been hoping to speak with a fellow shaman.” 

“Fellow shaman? Me?” 

She nods so enthusiastically that you almost hate to have to disappoint her. 

“But- but I’m Y/n, a- a florist! I’m not a shaman,” you explain, gesturing to the flowers but grimacing when you remember that she can’t see.

Confusion draws the maker’s head back. “Oh? But there is so much life growing around you, from the soil, from your finger tips - there are slivers of magic in the earth even here....” 

“Well, I’m pretty sure humans can’t do magic,” you scratch at the back of your neck, “unless you count magicians, of course... Sorry to disappoint.” 

Immediately, Muria waves aside your apology with a shake of her head. “No, no, no. Not disappointing, just...surprising. I merely assumed....” She pulls the white braid through her fingers, humming. “A florist, then? I admit, I haven’t heard the term before.” 

You’re dumbfounded, certain that once she’d learned you weren’t what she thought, she’d lose interest and be on her way. But here she is, opening the way for a conversation and smiling politely down at you, waiting for you to elaborate on your profession. 

“A...well, a florist is just someone who arranges and sells flowers,” you shrug, “Much less exciting than a shaman, I imagine... “

Apparently, Muria disagrees, for she sighs wistfully, nostrils flaring to take in the myriad of smells around her. “What a marvellous line of work to find yourself in.” 

Shuffling awkwardly on your feet, you duck your head and peer up at her, asking, “Um, sorry. Not to sound rude but...What are you, like, doing here? And more to the point; how did you even get here?”

Muria turns her great head down in your direction again and pouts thoughtfully. “Curiosity drew me here, I suppose. Regrettably, I have never journeyed to your world before. Karn - one of our youngest - has visited many times, and upon his return to our village, he told me that he thought I would appreciate the splendour of Earth’s beauty. So, I came through the portal and arrived not far from here, actually. I followed the whispering trees, listened to the thrumming of life, and here I find myself, standing in your home.” You jump when the maker gasps lightly upon recalling that most creatures don't tend to appreciate a trespasser. “I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion, but I couldn’t stay away. I’ve never smelled anything quite so wonderful, and I have lived a very long time.” 

“Oh come on now,” you grin, feeling more at ease thanks to the maker’s gentle mannerisms, “you can’t have lived that long. You don’t look a day over thirty.” 

Perhaps that had been too casual, but it causes her to let out a dainty laugh and cover her mouth with a hand, tutting playfully at you. “Ah, the infamous human charm. I’ve heard much about it from the forge sister.” Without warning, Muria drops gracefully onto a knee, sending a tiny shudder through the earth before she places her staff aside and leans down until your faces have a mere foot between them. Cautious of the new proximity, you’d’ve backed away, were it not for the fence at your back, forcing you instead to gulp and stare up at the maker with wary eyes. “Uh, Mar-Muria? What’re you doing?” 

Movement to your right catches your attention. You snap towards it and gasp upon seeing her long, decoratively bejewelled fingers reaching slowly towards your face. But sensing your unease, Muria quietly draws her hand back. “Ah, forgive me. As I said; curiosity...” You notice that she hasn’t removed her hand completely. 

Pressed awkwardly back into the wooden fence, you notice the heat emanating from her body, or maybe it’s your full-body blush from being so close to such an imposing being. The maker, oblivious to your rising temperature, continues. “I simply wish to put a name to a face. May I?” Both hands appear at either of your cheeks, tentatively hovering near you as Muria patiently waits for permission to proceed. Hesitantly, trying to convince yourself that this could simply be common occurrence in her culture and there’s no reason for you to be so weird about it, you nod, mentally smack yourself, then finally say, “Sure, go ahead.”  

Exhaling warmly through her nose, the maker smiles, touching her fingertips to your cheeks and delicately tracing them across your features. It’s an intimate, breathtaking occurrence, one that you wouldn’t have imagined in your wildest daydreams. There’s an overwhelming scent of strange earth lingering on her hands, not unpleasant, in fact it’s almost intoxicating, especially when she brushes her thumb over your top lip and you catch a strong whiff of something that smells a lot like jasmine. It’s worth mentioning that there is also a sense of trepidation, with your head held between two gigantic hands that could snap closed at any second and crush you. One slip and you’d be a goner. The thought is enough to send a shiver rocketing through your body and goosebumps leap from your skin beneath Muria’s fingers, a natural reaction that doesn’t go unnoticed by the maker. Beneath her mask, you can still see her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. 

“Oh!” she gasps softly, turning her head to the side in concentration as she feels along the line of your cheek bones, “Your face, it's changing! Are you alright?” The shock in her voice urges you to reassure her, almost resulting in you dropping your bundle of flowers when you try to bring up your arms to pat her hands. Falteringly, you clutch the flowers in one fist and use the other to grab the blue ring on her index finger when she goes to pull her hand away.

“Oh don't worry, it's just goosebumps!” you chuckle nervously. Muria pauses, allowing you to keep her hand in place with your relatively tiny fingers and she tests the foreign word on her tongue.

“Goose...bumps?”

Quizzically, you match the confused expression on her face. “Makers don't get goosebumps? They're like these little bumps that raise under your skin when we get cold or-” You cast a quick glance up at the late summer sun, then down at your thin shirt and loose cargo shorts “-Or...cold..”

There's no way you're admitting that her closeness is the true cause of the wretched little things.

Miraculously, Muria seems to be far too distracted by your biology to notice the awkward repeat. Hesitantly, her hands return to the sides of your face, making you tense up again, eyes wide as saucers.

“Remarkable,” she breathes, “truly remarkable.” A few strands of her silvery hair flutter in the gentle breeze, catching the sunlight as they tickle against your neck. “I'd no idea humans have such changeable states! Much like life itself, I suppose.” With a final sweep of her thumbs across your closed eyes, the maker sighs wistfully, pulls away and takes hold of her staff, bathing you in sunlight once more as she stands up to her full height. Unintentionally, you slump back against the fence and release a noisy breath before fixing the smiling maker with an inquisitive eye. “So uh,” you cough, pushing yourself upright, “H-how do I look?”

She purses her lips and hums thoughtfully for a long moment, long enough to cause you to fidget and fiddle with the flowers in your hand, wondering why it matters to you so much how you appear to her.

At last, Muria's mouth pats in a genuine grin, showing off a pair of sharp tusks that protrude from her lower jaw. “Resplendent,” she declares smokily.

“I – Uh – Wow.” Your stammered reply draws a fond chuckle from her throat. “Um, Muria? I hate to tell you, but I think your hands might be broken.”

“And modest too,” she observes, “I assure you my hands are functioning perfectly. But-” Casting her head around elegantly, she turns it to the side, listening. “- I can see I've taken up enough of your time this evening.” She turns fully, guiding herself towards the front of the garden with her staff, but continues talking, prompting you to jog alongside her to keep up. “I must return to home, but before I do....”

You almost collide with her when she suddenly draws to a halt and shifts to look down. “I wonder if I might ask a favour of you?”

“Sure!” you chirp, windmilling to stop yourself from falling forwards into the maker's leg, “How can I help?”

Muria smiles and inclines her head gratefully. “I've been wanting to introduce some earthen plants to my garden, but I'm afraid their biological needs aren't something I'm familiar with....” Trailing off, she leans heavily against the staff, a question lingering on her lips. She looks a little reluctant to voice it, but after a moment of mulling it over, nods and straightens up again. 

“I know this may be a bit much to ask of you, but would you be willing to teach me?”

“I-What?”

“Well it's just doesn't seem like dumb luck that I came across you today. You surround yourself with life and they thrive in your presence. I’ve a feeling that you have a lot to teach me about earthen plant-life.”

You shake your head, astounded. “But, didn't you say you're a shaman? Aren't you like...the expert on plants and stuff?”

“Certainly not on those of another realm. On my own world, perhaps. Though I wouldn't boast 'expert.”

“Now who's being modest?”

The maker's mouth falls open, a soft 'oh' escaping before she turns a smirk down at you. “I can tell we're going to be fast friends, you and I.”

You can't deny the surge of elation and secret pride that hits you at that. 

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think I would benefit from your tutelage,” she continues, “and I would, of course, compensate you for your time.”

Huffing incredulously, you shake your head and absentmindedly reach out to pat the maker’s wooden staff. “Please, don’t worry about compensation. I’m happy enough to help.” 

“You are?” she asks hopefully. 

Shrugging, you stuff your hands into the pockets of your shorts. “Course! S’not every day a maker stumbles into my garden and strikes up a conversation. Besides, I’m liking the whole ‘fast friends’ idea..” Seeing no harm in it, you send Muria a private wink, safe in the knowledge that she won't have caught it. Although you’re sure there’s no way she could have seen it, the maker raises a hand to her cheek, the beginnings of a rosy blush suddenly blossoming over it. With a cough, Muria bows her head and chirps, “Well then, Y/n the florist, I shall be seeing you again soon.” 

You watch as the maker steps easily over the fence out onto the road, her dress trailing prettily in her wake before you get the notion to quickly trot through the gate, stopping in front of her and asking eagerly, “Wait, uh...How soon is soon?” 

Gliding to a halt, she appears to consider you for a moment, a surprised but pleased smile flitting across her features. “Within the next few days, I suppose. Is that convenient?” 

“Sure! Of course! I mean, I live where I work, so I’ll pretty much be here all day....every day.” You trail off into nervous laughter and scratch at your nose whilst she nods. 

"I look forward to it.” 

“Yeah, me too..” 

There’s a beat of silence in which the two of you just bask in the other’s presence. In the quiet, something unspoken lingers, a familiarity as old and comforting as a fond memory from your childhood. Perhaps its the common ground you have, being a florist yourself, an infantile profession in comparison to raising life being Muria’s whole raison d’être. 

With a final bow of her head, she turns about with a flourish of her robes, striking her staff against the hard concrete of the road and meanders off, picking her way between gawking bystanders and parked cars until she disappears behind the cottage at the end of the street. 

You stare after her, a light of excitement glimmering in your stomach. A shaman literally a millennia years your senior has asked you to be her teacher, something you’d never think you’re qualified for even if you live to be a hundred.

Holding the flowers you’d dropped close to your chest, you take them with you upstairs, placing them lovingly into a vase on the windowsill and staring out of it with a blissful sigh. 

[capnebula]

Winter Cherry - I

A/N: So this is what happens when I stay up late. The school and powers in the story are heavily inspired by X-Men since I'm a nerd who can't have 100% original ideas, like, ever. I hope you all enjoy it!

BLURB: It was always said that if you met a mutant with the opposite power as you, that person was your soulmate. Stan Uris, who steals life with his power, didn't believe in superstitions like that until he met Mike Hanlon, the boy who gives life.

PAIRINGS: Stanlon (main), Reddie (side), Benverly (side)

WARNINGS: main character with negative self-image (will update as needed)

WORD COUNT: 1,931

Stanley Uris was mostly a loner, but he liked it best that way. It was safer for everyone, he knew. His friend, Richie, disagreed, however. Richie thought Stan should go to school with him. Yes, it was a special sort of school made specially for mutants to go to, but that did not mean the people working there would be able to protect everyone from his power. It was more of a curse, he thought. Everything he touched just died in the blink of an eye. Touch the grass? Dead. A tree? Dead. Everything he even brushed lightly died. So, he wore gloves and turtlenecks, even on the hottest days of the summer. He didn't want to go to a school where he would have to be careful of everyone there. He already had to be cautious around his only friend and saw no reason to add a hundred something other kids to that equation. It was simple; Stan stayed away from people and people stayed away from Stan. That was how it should be. It was the most safe that way. So when suddenly his parents were pushing with Richie to get him to go to this school, he was partly confused and partly upset. He did want to know people, but he didn't want to hurt them, and he was bound to kill someone at some point if they weren't too careful around him or vice versa. No one he knew seemed to get the message, though. Richie brought it up every time they spoke, saying things about how fun it was and how much he would love the classes. Stan was getting fed up with it, and even entertained the idea of going just to shut up everyone else. But he didn't go. Not for a whole school year. Eight, maybe nine months, Stan stood his ground and refused to go. Everyone who knew him kept hammering him to go, however, and after months of thought and processing the pros and cons, he decided to just go. Richie was elated to hear the news. Really. He wouldn't shut up about it the whole time he helped Stan pack his things. Stan simply rolled his eyes and tuned the loud mouthed kid out until they were done packing. When they were done packing, though, they sat down at the foot of Stan’s bed in silence. “I'm honestly scared right now, Richie,” “Scared? Why?” Richie questioned. He wasn't the best at staying quiet, but he could do it to listen to Stan. “I kill people with just a light touch. You realise me being at this school means I have increased chances of accidentally killing someone, right?” Rich nodded. “I do realise that, Stan. I do. It's just that you're so lonely all the time and I think it's worth the risk if you get to meet new people and make good friends that aren't me. It'll be worth it, I swear. And if it isn't, if you really give it a chance and can't do it, then I'll get you back home myself. Deal?” “Okay, sure, deal,” Stan sighs. “Aye, I knew you had some sense. Not as much as your mother, but-” “Shut up Richie,” They looked at each other for a split second and both laughed quietly. Stan had to admit, he cared deeply about Richie and was glad his friend was showing caring just as deep, even through his stupid jokes. He truly was a great friend.

When the time came for them to get going, the realisation of just how scared he was came to him like a weight falling right on top of him in attempt to crush him. He didn't want to hurt anyone. That had always been the last thing he wanted. But then Richie was there, and he gave Stan a new pair of gloves, thick and almost leathery, yet flexible and easy to move. “Figured you might need a new pair. Seems all that time in the church made your gloves as holey as you wanna be,” “Thanks, and I appreciate it, but shut up,” Stan stated as he took the gloves. He went to take of his old, worn ones and noticed that Richie's joke had a bit of truth to it; the gloves were getting a few holes in them. “Alright, fine, cool. But you should know that those gloves that I just handed you are the best material and I saved up for a long time to get them. They won't be getting holes any time in the next ten or so years, so you won't need new ones too soon! Which saves me a lot of hassle with getting you cheap ones all the time for your birthdays. I can be more creative now!” And the dork let his hair become bright highlighter yellow just for the fun of it. Stan grinned; he honestly couldn't think of a power that would be more annoying for Richie to have, but it was fitting. “That's pretty nice! Thanks, Rich,” Stan really appreciated the gloves. He finally got to putting them on and wow, they felt nice. He could tell they had to have been really expensive. “Anything for a best friend,” They were waiting for the bus all this time, and the loud release of steam alerted them that they needed to go get on. The two stood and went to go inside. Stan was getting prepared to pay, but Richie did something that shocked him. “We're headed to Sharon Denbrough’s School for Mutants,” he said. The driver just nodded and motioned for them to head back. Stan was rather confused by this. “Why did he just let us go?” “He’s a mutant. He takes us schoolkids to the school for free because when he was young he suffered a lot of oppression.  He wants us to be able to go safely.” Richie explains. Stan nods, thinking deeply. It was strange, seeing another mutant. “What's his power?” “Telekinesis, I believe. I've heard he uses it to save this bus from crashes and hitting pedestrians. Seems pretty cool, but I personally think there are cooler mutants out there. More original,” “You're just saying that,” “Yeah. But that's because of you and Eddie,” “I hear a lot about this Eddie. He's at the school?” “No shit Stanlock. Of course he's at the school; where else would he be?” Richie rolled his eyes and grinned. “Okay, okay, just making sure, gosh,” Stan replies, though anyone could see that he was grinning as well. The bus started to move, and Stan realised that they were officially going to the school. He held onto one of the poles and continued talking to Richie, but his mind was filling with doubt as they sped up and were suddenly moving. The original worries of accidentally killing someone were at the forefront of his mind.

The bus pulled to its final stop and the doors opened. Stan and Richie, who had since sat down as the bus emptied, stood up and went to the front. “This is is, boys. Enjoy that school; it's a blessing to have it,” the driver said to them. Richie thanked him and made some stupid joke that Stan didn't really hear. As he followed his best friend out of the bus and onto new territory, he could only think of what a huge mistake this probably was. It was too late to make a change, of course, but he still regretted coming. “Rich, I'm still not sure this was a great idea,” “I thought you wanted to meet Eddie! Come on, you're gonna kill my mood before anything else with that attitude,” “Are you seriously going to go there?” “Already did. Now come on! It's seriously like three yards away. That's less than fifty steps. Get a move on,” Richie took Stan’s suitcase from him and started speed walking off. Stan jogged to catch up, sighing. He knew he wouldn't win with this kid. They passed through the gate that separated the normal world from a school full of mutants. Stan looked around in awe at it. There was a large field before him that had kids using their powers in various ways, and an immense amount of plants and wildlife. It was the most gorgeous thing he could ever remember seeing in his life. Richie looked back to see him gaping at the scenery and grinned. “So I take it you like it?” he asks to confirm. “It certainly looks nice. Can't jump to conclusions just yet,” “Well then let's get you to Mrs. Denbrough. She'll show you the good stuff and get you settled in,” he started walking towards a building, “you're gonna love it. And her. She's a great head to the school and has an awesome power. Her son goes here too, but he's little. Cute kid though.” “Richie,” “Hmm?” “Shush,” The boy listened, but didn't stop walking. Stan took a deep breath; it was going to be an interesting day. He knew that, but when Richie dropped the suitcase and went running, Stan was even more certain. He was pretty sure his best friend had yelled “EDDIE”, but he had been pretty deep in though so he wasn't sure until he saw a boy significantly shorter than Richie walking back with him. “So this is the famous Eddie?” he asks. Richie nods. “And you must be Stan. Nice to finally meet you,” the boy responds with a grin. He holds his hand out in greeting. With some hesitation due to habit, Stan takes it and shakes his hand. “Guys guys guys we should get Stan to Mrs. Denbrough! Come on!” Richie once again grabs the suitcase and goes walking off to the building he had been headed to when he saw Eddie. The other two followed him just a bit behind the suitcase. Stan was mostly observing the people around out of curiosity. There were kids levitating and making fire spark in their hands and turning things to what looked like ceramic with just a touch. He looked over to Eddie and noticed the fingerless gloves he was wearing. “Hey, Eddie, just wondering, what makes you a mutant?” “I make things show their true form by touching it. Like, if Richie were to change himself to look like, say, you, I could touch his arm and he would change back to himself,” Eddie explained. “Is that why you wear the fingerless gloves or..?” “Oh, those are mostly just a fashion statement, but they are useful for that, too,” Stan nodded and went back to looking around before he noticed they were about to walk up the steps to the building. He noticed just in time for him to step up, walking up to the door behind Richie and, now, Eddie. They walked inside, and Stan found himself gaping at his surroundings. It was a room with a high ceiling and gorgeous paintings on the walls. He looked at it all, almost overwhelmed by the amount of beauty in this room alone. It was almost more overwhelming than outside. A woman came in through one of the doorways. She had her hair falling loosely around her shoulders, though half of it was pulled up into something of a bun where her hair looped and came out of the hair band into a cascading ponytail. She smiled at Stan. “Mister Uris, I assume,” her voice was pleasant, something like honey, but also firm. Stan nodded. “Um, yes, I'm Stan Uris,” “Well, Stan. Welcome to my school for mutants,”