#I think watching First Contact again has changed my brain chemistry

[mostly-natm]

Okay, but…Lore and the Borg Queen, though.

[parksprout]

Sprout Journal 11/8/24

Hey guys! Probably a smaller journal than usual today, but I feel like I end up saying that (or at least thinking it, idk if I actually mention it) quite a bit while writing these and then I always end up writing more than I expected. Today was a really straight forward day! I didn't do a whole heck of a lot, and not a bunch exciting happened which... is a bit of a breath of fresh air to be fully honest. This might be the first truly mundane day I've had since my breakup, I think I'm basically at the point of emotional regularity again. That doesn't mean that like all of the sudden there's no pain in my life, quite the opposite actually, rather it means that I have looked at my pain and I have decided how best to address it! I'm working realllyyyy hard on myself at the moment, and I think that's the best way to deal with things! School was a blur today. None of my classes were normal. My Spanish class was really tense and we didn't actually cover much material - we were much more focused on talking about the election. As much as I hate taking the actual course due to the weird online textbook and the high volume of work, my Spanish professor himself is a really genuine man and a good teacher. He cancelled class on Wednesday, and today he sat down with us and talked about the election results. He's obviously unhappy, and he expressed a lot of disappointment towards other voters similar to him. He said that a lot of his cousins are men who immigrated to the United States but now want to close the door behind them, which he personally doesn't understand. We ended class early today, so afterwards I actually stuck around to talk to him for a little. I didn't want to talk politics but it's obvious that he's hurting a lot so... I talked about music with him!

He's aspiring to find the time to learn bass just like I am, but he actually has such a fortunate head start on me haha. His cousin is the current bassist for Dance Gavin Dance!! He actually told me that like a week ago or something, but it was day two of my breakup and oh my god I was not ready to talk about it then - I almost broke no-contact with my partner Bnuuy IMMEDIATELY upon hearing that information. Anyways he was grateful for that After Spanish, creative writing class was fine! We talked about writing preferences; tenses and perspectives specifically. I also talked with one of my classmates about photography! I shared that I am looking for the right shots to take right now to send to The Bnuuy (ominous music plays in the distance) and how difficult it is to make the decision to capture a moment when your film is limited! It's an exercise in restraint, honestly. The rest of the class went fine! Anthropology got cancelled, so I went to the library and got comfy while finishing my final preparations for my Archaeology presentation! Truth be told I was surprisingly nervous. I wrote most of the presentation when like ... I was literally a different person. That sounds strange to say, but it's true - my brain chemistry has changed in the past two weeks since I made those slides, it was like reading any work by a stranger. But I managed to present it just fine, albeit a bit zoned out through my own content. Gosh what else I went to the gym at school again tonight! It was suppeerrrr exhausting but I think I'm hitting a real flow of things now. I did my longest run so far: 30 minutes straight, the only times I even slowed down was to skip ads on the Legend of Zelda 2 Game Grumps playthrough I was watching. After that I made my way through most of the weight machines! This one girl kept giving me a super aggressive stink eye though :( I really don't know what I did to upset her? It was a lil disheartening, especially considering I already get super anxious working out in public. But yeah! Now I technically have a bunch of homework to be doing, but absolutely NO energy to do it. I think instead I'll take care of it while I'm at work tomorrow and just suffer the consequences of some late penalties. Whatever, I'm a good student I promise That's all for tonight! Nothing too exciting, just my life in academia. I love you all! <3 have a good night tumblr

[cupidssrosses]

i care about this too much

hangman and roosters relationship follows, BEAT. FOR. BEAT. the ‘ex’s getting back together’ plotline i’ve seen in 100 other films about straight relationships. 

the first scene, where hangman swaggers up to rooster, stands like five inches from his face, smirking the whole time while they insult eachother. they’re glancing at eachothers mouths, everyone around them is watching them like this interaction is nothing new. 

rooster telling him he looks good as hangman plays pool veeery slowly and somehow antagonisingly. you can feel how much hes showing off. hangman leaves and pheonix goes up to rooster and says ‘he hasn’t changed’ and rooster is STILL just STARING in his direction and says ‘no he hasn’t (or something like that lol)

then their always making eye contact in the meetings, bantering while their flying then

omg THEN

roosters about to get into the plane and maybe never come home, and this SHOT i swear. it’s like, romantically coded cinematography but a canonically platonic relationship?? and it drives me CRAZY. the camera follows rooster as he walks, and hangman enters the shot and their still for a second. 

they don’t. know what. to say. this could be a goodbye for all they know. the warm lighting, the eye contact, the tension, all of it. 

then finally hangman SAVES HIS LIFE and they say the ‘you look good’ ‘i am good’ lines again. HE LITERALLY IS THE REASON that rooster is still ALIVE. rooster comes home safe, he gets off the plane, hugs EVERYONE ELSE except of the main character and RIGHT here

right here is where after 20 years of watching movies my brain has been trained to expect the love interest to appear and for the romantic subplot to resolve. (idk why how to train your dragon is all i can think of rn but do you remember at the end!?! its the SAME SCENE. hiccup is greeted by a crowd of secondary characters, he talks to them for a second, then the music changes, the crowd parts, and astrid comes up and they have their little ‘thats for everything else’ moment, anyway)

here is structurally where in every other movie the next person to talk to rooster would kiss him. and what do you know hangman arrives, everyone steps back, there’s this importance you can feel. the music changes, so does the tone. this isn't just another character, this interaction means something. god and the way they’re smiling at eachother it gets me everytime. but of course, like he considered going for the kiss but decided against it, hangman offers his hand for a handshake. 

ALL of these scenes. ALL these interactions would have read as romantic if one of them, was a women. its crazy to me. they use the same cinematography, the same type of dialogue, the same direction that you would expect to be used for a romantic subplot, but use it for a platonic subplot. 

a man and a women could interact once with the slightest amount of tension and people would without a second thought assume they’re love interests. these two were out here saving eachothers lives, having the most flirtatious interactions ive seen in ages, but no, they’re just really close friends. 

EDIT/ADDITION: I’ve seen so many people say that rooster and pheonix were ‘clearly fucking’ or ‘clearly had history’ and you know what?? i totally see it!! so valid. plenty of tension. but if you think they had chemistry but rooster and hangman didn’t, the only difference between the two is that they’re the same gender. they had the same amount if. not. more chemistry/tension than either of them did with pheonix

oh also, another example of romantically coded techniques/tropes being used in apparently non-romantic plotlines is the tv show suits. its not every episode but mike and harvey have a bunch of scenes that would read as HEAVILY romantic if either of them was a girl (eg. harvey running in slow motion to stop mike from putting himself in danger was very ‘running through the airport’, but oohhh no they were ‘brothers’ )

[youranemicvampire]

Thoughts on First Kill (2022) with spoilers

I’m having a First kill brain rot so i’m just gonna let this all out. Just my personal opinions :)

Well, the theme song is cute, but tbh i really don’t like the intro itself. I know it is supposed to be campy, but they could do better. I don’t know if it’s possible to change it next season, but i hope they do. And i don’t think the budget was the problem on that aspect. 

Speaking of budget, it’s not their fault and as a non-scifi gal, it’s not a big deal to me. But again, i hope the cgi will get better next season especially the fighting choreography. 

The poor quality flashbacks was maybe my another complaint coz you don’t have to have a big budget to give it a decent editing. 

WOMEN. all of them. 

I like how the men on here were either their brothers, dads and a gay best friend so there’s no room for shipping any man with Calliette. They’re lesbians, but we know these straight stans. 

Variety was soooo wrong for calling this a tired take because it actually broke a lot stereotypes. An openly gay jock? Awkward vampire? Dark-skinned black woman lead who is being pinned on? Matriarchal family? Not to mention a lesbian show without those bury your gays trope and whatnots?

I usually like slow-burns, but they have soooo much chemistry that this worked. I smile like crazy even in those awkward interaction and eye contacts.

Tired of interracial sapphic couples that always include a white woman, but Jules is special. Sarah Catherine gave her justice and i can’t see anyone being casted for that role. As someone with anxiety, she nailed everything especially the posture and mannerisms. And it wasn’t over the top. +Jules is soooo cute and charming. 

Cal reminds me of those intimidating girls in high school that is impossible not to have a crush on. I understand SC’s reaction on the chemistry read coz Imani has this intimidating stare that is sooo hot, strong and mysterious. If you can’t see Cal being down bad, look at her eyes. It’s very expressive. 

I hate those takes that said we’re only hyping it for representation coz i genuinely enjoyed it. I’m a lesbian, but i think i’ve only consumed like 10-15 sapphic media and liked maybe 5-8 of them. That’s how picky i am. 

The kissing and make-out scenes? Oh god. I’m serious when i say this is the best or one of the bests i’ve seen (straights included). It is so passionate and authentic. Idk where that “male gaze” came from. The person who said that was dumb i’m sorry. 

The dialogue is another thing that needs improvement. The intent is there, just write it more natural

They really casted a rando for Noah Harrington lmao

If u hate Cal, i’ll just assume you’re a racist because she literally did nothing wrong. She’s down bad for Juliette. Her character is just different and her reaction to what went down is valid and natural, come on. 

I want to point that the S*x dream at the start was so important? Because being a lesbian teenager who is sexually attracted to another woman is NORMAL! and it doesn’t make them a dirty predator. 

The evil vampire twins are so exciting!

I hope the Burns will learn that not all vampires are monsters because of Theo. 

Not exclusive to First kill, but excess blood from the Hospital should just be given to vampires idk. Or u know, period blood if they’re not picky. In that way, Humans and vampires can live together in harmony. 

I love that Juliette’s parents were also forbidden lovers. idk it’s refreshing. 

Idk if i want a musical episode, but i want Juliette to serenade cal. Then Imani on the soundtrack. 

Yes to Elinor being bisexual. Make them all queer tbh!

That’s it for now. Just want to say to those who are hating, that no one is forcing you to watch, but to be an edgy hag that had to shit on the show in public (not on constructive way)? Sapphics are working so hard for this to be renewed and the diverse cast and crew put their hearts on it because it meant a lot to us, then you’re just gonna ruin it because you want to show how different you are? Come on. 

[a-lil-perspective]

I know I sound like a broken record but Tech’s characterization has been absolutely phenomenal. I’m so in love.

A particular point I have to blabber about is his dynamics with Omega.

I had wondered how Tech in particular would react to her and likewise, interact. It’s not that he lacks interpersonal skills, it’s just that he is so often in his own little world and hyper focused during his performances that he tends to be disengaged from most interaction unless it’s to provide factual insight. I had wondered if this point would remain relatively the same in light of Omega, especially given that she’s a child, or if he would adapt as quickly as the others.

There’s also the trope/misconception of “nerd remains impersonal unless you’re a piece of tech and also kids are eww”, and I was worried that Tech would fall subject to this implementation to some degree.

But it has been absolutely delightful watching Tech with Omega.

I am actually really proud of this guy. I’m pleasantly surprised. All of the boys shine with Omega in their own ways, some more definitively than others, but Tech absolutely has some budding chemistry with her. He isn’t as overtly paternal as say, Hunter, but he overall has had a great attitude about navigating the change. Given his pragmatic and logic-driven disposition, I was surprised to see this.

Then again, this further reinforces that rich development he’s getting. I think Tech realizes the gravity of the situation, to some degree. These are unprecedented times, one that he in all his brilliant calculations are unable to predict the trajectory of. Yet Tech is very willing and very able to adapt already and this is such a wonderful aspect of his character that I am so excited to see flesh out further. This adaptation carries over into guardianship. While Tech doesn’t have near the tact Hunter has, he’s trying. He sometimes makes brash decisions without considering Omega as a factor, as we saw in episode two with him having the ship impounded without assuring Omega’s welfare beforehand. He doesn’t quite yet understand how to tailor the circumstances to her presence, but none of them do, and that’s something they’ll all learn together.

But Tech is very much an active participant. He performs well and seems completely untroubled by the presence of a child, which again is surprising given that Tech is very sequential in his dealings; it’s understandable that the slightest variable could present as afflicting. I think that Omega’s curious mind will appeal greatly to Tech, which will open the door for some profound bonding. They both have an affinity for knowledge. I am very much looking forward to seeing Tech pass on his skills to Omega. She is very astute and hands-on. Her and Tech are going to take to the skies.

Some stand-out scenes:

This entire scene was emotionally packed, but Tech’s reaction in particular was so very jarring. We don’t typically see Tech in such an emotive state, in fact it’s rare we witness him so openly expressive. It’s rare that we see him actually immersed in the moment, away from his gadgets and gear. This is a very profound moment for Tech. He is paying attention here, he is quiet and observing. He is sympathizing for Omega. This was such a raw and tender reaction that I think was purely instinctive for Tech. This is not a reaction that can be fabricated. It comes from the heart. This was wholly a paternal inclination, to feel deeply for Omega and her state of discomfort. Look how pained he is. This was so beautiful and heart-wrenching, and I am very much looking forward to seeing more emotionally-rich moments from the brains of the group.

Another bit here. This scene literally had me😍❤️. One of my absolute favorites. This was really the first time Tech had made physical contact with Omega. I’m sure it was somewhat strange to him, a bit of a foreign concept to assimilate for someone used to dealing with inanimate objects and pieces of technology. In spite of this, he performs admirably here. Tech absolutely has the manners for Omega. The way he motions gently for her, secures her in his grip, and gingerly places her down was just so natural in a way that can’t be forced or faked. He did great.

Like I said, Tech has a lot to learn; he is not the most emotionally attuned to a child and their many needs, but his reactions and interactions have been nothing but kind and natural. He is a Dad and he doesn’t even know it.

Tech is absolutely wonderful.

[singtotheskiies]

“how are you so perfect?!” // karl jacobs fluff alphabet

a/n: the mcyt brainrot continues so i am coping with the fluffiest karl hcs my brain can summon,,,,,,, i am affection-starved send help please

summary: a look into the abcs of dating the one and only sweetheart karl jacobs!!! (fluff alphabet template by @snk-warriors)

activities - what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time with them?

karl loves doing literally anything and everything with you; he just loves your presence and company so much!! whether it’s late-night target runs, playing minecraft together, or just collapsing into your arms after a long, late-night stream, being with you instantly lifts his mood.

beauty - what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?

while karl appreciates and adores everything about you, i can definitely see him being a sucker for your eyes. he loves how they sparkle in certain lights, how big and happy they are when you’re looking at him, how they crinkle when you laugh, and how your pretty eyelashes flutter against your cheeks when the two of you cuddle. he often finds himself getting all blushy when you guys maintain prolonged eye contact:)))) i think he’d also love your hands and shoulders too!!

comfort - how would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

karl is no stranger to anxiety and is incredibly empathetic. the combination of these two things makes him the BEST person to have around when you’re not feeling good. if you’re sad, he’ll instinctively know just what to do to put a smile on your face again. he’ll crack stupid jokes or put on music and dance with you—anything to make you happy. if you’re anxious, he’ll talk softly to you and, if you’re feeling up to it, will hold you so you can safely come down from your panicking. he’ll definitely cradle the back of your head with his hand as he holds you close, just breathing with you.

dreams - how do they picture their future with their s/o?

karl is definitely the type to fall hard relatively quickly in a relationship. thinking about the future is sometimes scary for him, but with you in the picture, he finds it less threatening—beautiful, even. he doesn’t know exactly how he wants everything to turn out, but he does know that he wants you by his side through all of it.

equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

equality in a relationship is INCREDIBLY important to karl. he respects you so much and wants to make sure that your opinions and ideas are heard. the two of you 100% thrive on mutual communication and input.

fight - would they forgive their s/o easily? how do they fight?

i don’t see karl as the type to get upset easily; he’s pretty chill and is very forgiving since he hates conflict. i can see the odd argument popping up if he’s tired or stressed and accidentally snaps at you, but he’d be clinging to you five minutes later and begging for forgiveness (which, of course, you can’t resist giving him—he has an unfair amount of cute privilege).

gratitude - how grateful are they in general? are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

karl is sweetie #1 and never fails to appreciate the people in his life (or let them know). you could get him a monster from the fridge and he’ll literally pepper your face with kisses while chanting “thank you thank you thank you” like you just saved his life or something. he’s such a cutie and never fails to show you just how much he appreciates everything you do:)))

honesty - do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? or do they share everything?

as i said before, karl thrives on communication. however, he’s often hesitant to tell you when he’s feeling down or upset. even though he knows you probably wouldn’t mind, he doesn’t want to drag you down or burden you with his problems. his tell for feeling down is getting really quiet, so if you notice this, a few gentle questions will get him to open up to you. he’s working on being more open because you always help him feel so much better!!

inspiration - did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? ex: trying out new things or helping them overcome personal problems?

without a doubt, you have both changed each other for the better!! he’s helped you appreciate the little things and the quiet companionship that so many people take for granted. he’s also been a huge constant and has helped you through tough times. you’ve been a huge calming-yet-brilliant force for him and have taught him that good things always come in time. y’all are really an unstoppable pair and mean so much to the other!!

jealousy - do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?

karl doesn’t get jealous as much as he gets insecure. if he’s feeling uncomfortable, he’ll just get super quiet. after all, who is he to stop you from having fun?? maybe you’re better off with this person in the moment,,,, anyway, you’ll have to make it up to him with a cuddle session and reassuring him about how much you love him between soft head kisses:)))

kiss - are they a good kisser? what was the first kiss like?

karl’s kisses are LOVELY—soft and sweet with his hands gently cupping your cheek or jaw or even holding your own. he just loves being able to feel you and be close to you. the first kiss probably happened during a cuddle session—he would just be so caught up in your presence and softness and scent that his face would move closer to yours without him even trying. you’d make soft, shy eye contact for a brief moment before his mouth met yours. help he’s so cute ajcividiahhdjfd

love confession - how would they confess to their s/o?

god, he’s SUCH a cheeseball—he’d either do it on your birthday, delivered with a shy smile and giant bouquet, or just blurt it out of nowhere at 2am while the two of you are tired and slap-happy out of your minds. either way, he says it with such hushed reverence that your heart forgets how to work for a few minutes. so many kisses after;))))

marriage - do they want to get married? how would they propose? what would the marriage be like?

like i said earlier, karl can get a bit overwhelmed when thinking about the future. however, he does know that he wants the utter joy you bring him every day to keep going. he likes the idea of a small, pretty wedding with the people you’re closest with, but he’s also fine with just enjoying what you have. as long as he gets to be with you he’s happy:)))

nicknames - what do they call their s/o?

i get the vibe that he’d call you by your first initial or “baby” when he wants to be more casual (but he somehow imbues “baby” with so much meaning,,,,, hhhh). uses “sweetie” sometimes and also “honey” after you’ve been in a relationship for a while. basically just uses the absolute CUTEST names,,, they come naturally to him bc he loves you so much:’))

on cloud nine - what are they like when they are in love? is it obvious to others? how do they express their feelings?

it is PAINFULLY obvious that karl’s in love with you. he’s always gushing about you to his mr. beast and minecraft friends, so full of fond stories that everyone groans at so much of a mention of your name (everyone secretly thinks it’s adorable tho). the two of you have had so many people compliment you on how cute of a couple you are—your joking, fond chemistry is palpable.

pda - are they upfront about their relationship? do they brag about their s/o in front of others? or are they rather shy to kiss, etc. when others are watching?

while it’s common knowledge karl’s love language is physical touch, he’s always considerate of your boundaries while the two of you are around others. he’ll likely keep pda to hand holding and an arm slung comfortably over your shoulder. it’s just enough to let you feel each other without being too clingy.

quirk - a random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

karl is super unselfish—meaning his closet, nail polish—and yes, even his prized monster energy drinks—are also yours. he truly believes that sharing is caring, and it makes him incredibly happy when you’re wearing one of his iconic sweaters or giving him a grateful smile as he hands you half of his taco bell order.

romance - how romantic are they? what would they do to make their s/o happy? cliché or rather creative?

karl is a complete angel and always puts others first, meaning he’s an absolute GOD when it comes to romance. he’s always laughing and joking with you, and he never runs out of fun things for the two of you to do. at the beginning of your relationship, he’ll stick to the tried-and-true formulas of giant teddy bears, chocolate, and shared sweaters. as he gets to know you better, though, he’ll take pride in giving you super personal gifts and crafting special date nights he knows you’ll love. he’s the absolute sweetest:’’))

support - do they help their s/o achieve their goals? do they believe in them?

karl is your biggest fan first and your boyfriend second. he never fails to cheer you on every step of the way and remind you just how incredible you are when you’re struggling. he truly believes you can do anything—he is an angel. an ANGEL.

thrill - do they need to try out new things to spice out their relationship? or do they prefer a certain routine?

the two of you have a happy, comfortable rhythm in your relationship. however, you guys definitely try things together. watching a new cartoon, trying a quirky restaurant, or doing weird challenges with each other on stream never feels too much like stepping out of your comfort zone since the two of you are so in sync. even if something backfires, you’ve got the safety net of the other person to catch you.

understanding - how well do they know their partner? are they empathetic?

karl has incredible amounts of emotional and interpersonal intelligence. he believes in the innate dignity and beauty of all people, and LOVES getting to know every single bit of who you are. he’s completely committed to you, and is the perfect person to help you with whatever you’re going through.

value - how important is the relationship to them? what is its worth in comparison to other things in their life?

he considers your relationship to be the best part of his life. you’ve been with him through so much, and looking back, it’s incredibly clear just how much your presence in his life has changed him for the better. he loves you so much!!!!!

wild card - a random fluff headcanon.

karl often rants happily on and on about his newest cartoon or gaming obsession while the two of you are cuddling. he’s just so cute, and more often than not you’ll end up kissing all over his freckled cheeks and soft hair. he melts into you like a cat and the two of you just breathe the other in with pure contentment:))))) send help y’all are so cute:))))

xoxo - are they very affectionate? do they love to kiss and cuddle?

this goes without saying, but karl is a cuddlebug supreme. if you’re not super into cuddling, he’ll understand but try and ease you into it so that he can love you the way he really wants to!! copious amounts of cuddles, kisses, and affection are central to his ideal relationship.

yearning - how do they cope when they’re missing their partner?

poor karl gets so lonely without you!! you’ll facetime him when you’re gone for even a night, and he’ll pick up wearing one of your sweatshirts. “miss me that much??” you tease, and he can only nod and pout. expect millions of wish you were heres and miss you babys and can’t wait to hug u agains spam texted to you. lots of snapchats of him giving puppy dog eyes to the camera and cuddling stuffed animals will also be sent. he can’t help it—he just adores you and is constantly pouting until you’re back.

zeal - are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? if so, what will they do?

you’re karl’s everything, and he’ll do anything to make sure that your relationship is happy, healthy, and beneficial for both of you. thankfully, though, he’s such a sweetheart that making sure things are running smoothly isn’t much of a task at all!!

[sunfire-forever]

Punishment time part 2

Part 1

Pairing: The Boyz Juyeon x The Boyz Eric x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: smut, threesome, dom!juyeon, switch!eric, sub!reader, oral (receiving + giving) , 18+ , double penetrati0n, nipple play, usage of toys, swearing, teasing, just extremely filthy

Summary: After a wild night spent with your best friend's flatmate without your bestie knowing, you are coming back to their apartment. It is your birthday and they are waiting for you with a proper gift, making this night definitely one that you and your body will never forget.

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

You woke up to the morning sunlight shining from Juyeon's window to your face. Juyeon had his arm wrapped around you caressing your naked body under his blanket. You could still smell his parfume mixed with many other scents from the night before. His muscles around you made you feel so safe and sound. You needed a few minutes to realize that the past night was not a dream and you were thinking about if you could even walk from so much pleasure the man next to you gave you. You turned around to look at him. Juyeon was dead gorgeous. He was still sleeping yet his messy hair made him look so cute and innocent - completely opposite to what happened last night.

You looked at the clock and it was already 10:27am. Oh my goodness, you needed to go home! You didn't plan to have sex with your best friend's flatmate but even more you didn't plan to stay overnight. There were so many thoughts in your head - how should you behave after this? how will Eric react - does he already know? and what was the comment Juyeon said about Eric, was it true?

You needed to put away these thoughts for awhile and just get your ass out of the room before Juyeon wakes up. You put on your clothes, packed your things and quietly exited the room. You peeked in the room next door which was Eric's trying to see if he is sleeping but no one was there. After turning around and letting a sigh of relief, you went to put on your shoes. After tieing up your shoelaces where you needed to squat, you raised up again seeing 2 legs in front of you.

"Eric Sohn! What are you doing here?"

"Um it's my apartment I guess. You look messy, what happened to you? Here - your charger."

You completely forgot that you were supposed to meet because of the charger. Gosh, you've had luck since if didn't hear anything thinking you came for the charger.

"Thanks!" you said trying to look as less obvious as possible. "By the way, why do you have a cake in your hand?", you ask noticing him holding a cake as well.

"Hm, I wouldn't think you'd forgot your own birthday tomorrow but yeah I bought it for you"

Oh shit, that's true. Your birthday was tomorrow and you didn't think of it at all.

"Wow Eric, thank you! But it's too early to eat it now..."

"True, but you can come by in the evening and we can wait for midnight together just like we do every year."

"Sounds like a plan" you said.

"Yeah the cake was meant to be a surprise, y/n" - Eric said while accompanying you to the door, you already going outside. He gazed at you and made a dramatic pause.

"But I guess we need to think of another surprise for the night" he said slowly, while the door closing in front of your eyes watching Eric's mischievous smile get out of your sight.

---------

8:00pm. Juyeon and Eric's apartment.

You waited in front of the doorstep checking yourself out in the reflection of the door.

Every time you've entered this apartment you were in some sort of hoodies, sweaters, clothes for chilling out and relaxing.

But today, that was not the case.

You rang the bell and the door opened.

"Hey y/n what's up.. Ohhhhh myyy" - you heard Eric say in awe.

You took your birthday as a reason good enough to look smoking hot. Sexy. Seductive.

You wore a tight red see-through dress and black lacy bra and fishnet tights underneath.

You had a choker around your neck and you were smelling like roses. And yes, you were standing like this in front of your best friend. He doesn't need to know that you drank 3 glasses of soju before you came here. You just enjoyed this confidence and thought it's completely appropriate for your birthday. He also looked very handsome with a black unbottoned shirt.

You entered the apartment . "I'll go to the basement and get the beer", said Eric leaving your sight. You bent down to take your heels off and while squating you felt a big hand grabbing your butt.

"Hello princess."

You threw your heels on the side and stood up while the hand still grabbing your booty.

*Shit* you said in your head. This was unfair.

In front of you was Juyeon, looking like the most fuckable creature in the world. He had a black t-shirt and extremely tight leather pants on. His forehead was showing and he was looking at you like you're a treat he is just about to taste.

"Miss me?" he asked.

"Oh what do you think?" you replied moving his hand from your butt under your dress to your core. His hands were going over your cold skin and fishnet tights and when they reached the end point, you saw his expression change.

Maybe you decided to leave your panties home making his cold fingers directly over your core. This small thing made you notice his bulge becoming more evident making him go crazy even if he didn't want to show it much, his body revealed all signs. He leaned in for a kiss, but the moment got interrupted by the sound of Eric's steps approaching the living room from the basement.

"I brought the beer!" Eric shouted while you two got your hands off of each other. In the end, Eric doesn't know anything. You tried to act normal, although the chemistry and sparks between Juyeon and you were on fire.

An hour and 10 beers later, the three of you were all on the couch comfortably next to each other. In the beginning you were all just regularly sitting, but many laughs and celebratory cheers afterwards you were all laying down. You were in the middle and as the night approached, you comfortably turned around to your bestie Eric him hugging you from the back. You used to hug a lot, this was nothing new. He was also the one who liked skinship and sometimes you also played video games in this position. But as he was holding you in your arms and hugging you, he started doing something so far unknown. He took your palms and started slowly massaging them. This felt so good. You felt your body relaxing and at one point you even closed your eyes diving into this unfamiliar yet erotic sensation. You opened your eyes and saw Eric's head move much closer to yours, his soft lips being an inch away. But then you turned your hand around looking at Juyeon on the other side of the couch extremely furious. You were not touching him, but the way of how you were laying down with your legs very open made him looked at your bare pussy under your short dress.

You spread out your hand and took another beer, not breaking the eye contact with Juyeon. He looked jealous, irritated and needy.

He wanted to grab you from Eric's arms and use you to his own pleasure. You opened the bottle, yet the weird position made you... spill half of the bottle over you.

You and Eric immediately wanted to stand up looking at the mess. The beer spilled over you and your floor. Your top was so wet that the thin material completely revealed your stripped bralette as well as your hardened nipples after the reaction with the cold liquid. And while you were standing up Juyeon took a close look at your soaked body.

"Eric, where is the mop?"

"In the first drawer in my room."

"Cool, let me get it quickly"

You entered Eric's room and approached his shelf, opening the first drawer. You froze.

"Holy shit" you said being flabbergasted. You were looking at were definitely... not mops.

It was a drawer full of sex toys. Your eyes opened wide. Dildos, vibrators, chains, nipple clamps, rings and so many items you were not sure what they are. You had a few moments of blackout your brain not believing that your so far innocent best friend had a collection like this. You were staring at the items when you suddenly heard noise behind you.

"Oh well, well, what do have in here" you heard while turning around and seeing Eric at the front door.

"I told you the first drawer from above baby, not from below"

"I didn't know you're into these things, Eric", you replied.

"Oh look who's the one saying that. I also didn't know you were into being fucked raw the whole night. I couldn't sleep yesterday from your moans coming out from Juyeon's room"

"You... you heard it? I... I can explain"

"There is only one thing I want you to explain."

said Eric stepping closer and closer to you.

You heard a door slam in the back.

"Eric, Eric, Eric. We didn't agree to play like this. I still didn't give you permission to touch... what was mine." said Juyeon approaching you too and holding your chin up.

"Don't start whining once you receive your punishment pup. You'd be so powerless against me, begging and begging to cum for me but only I can decide when and how you will. You're mine and your body knows it, responding only to my touch I'll make sure you feel things beyond your wildest dreams." - said Juyeon... to Eric.

You witnessed Eric turning from a confident flirt to an ultimate sub carefully listening and obeying to every word Juyeon spoke out of his mouth. Damn, you knew Juyeon can make so many people wrapped around his finger but you never thought your best friend is one of them. Juyeon took Eric's chin and stared at the younger one, pulling him in for a wild kiss.

"But not today, pup. Today we are taking care of this birthday princess over here. She deserved to be handled well. Do you have a wish, baby?" Juyeon asked switching the attention to you.

"I only have one wish" you said, hearing the clock marking that the midnight has arrived.

"Fuck the hell out of me", you replied.

A second later Juyeon took your waist and pushed you relentlessly on the bed. He pulled your dress up and didn't even bother to take off your tights but just ripped a part of them making a hole exactly at your already dripping core.

"Happy birthday, beautiful" said Juyeon at the second where he slammed 3 of his fingers in you while his thumb hitting a sensitive spot on your clit.

"Ahhhhh fuck Juyeon" you moaned loudly, but soon you were shut up by Eric who started making out with you.

Eric's lips felt like cotton candy. They were so soft and plump but the tenderness didn't last long since all of a sudden the mood completely changed and the kisses started being faster, deeper and rougher, matching the pace of Juyeon's fingers. Eric's kisses felt forbidden, you never expected for you two to get closer to this level of intimacy. But damn, you couldn't complain since it felt so damn good. You felt your high was coming closer so you couldn't control yourself but whine and moan. Eric moved his lips to your neck, leaving juicy kisses, marking it as his territory. A few moments later, you felt your high coming up, your orgasm filling your entire body and your cum going all around Juyeon's fingers.

After you calmed a bit down, you realized your two men still have their clothes on. Now it's time to change it. You crawled up to Juyeon and soon later all his clothes were on the floor. His toned muscles and doll-like body turned you on even more, so you couldn't help yourself but start worshiping his cock, taking it all inside your mouth and deep throating it while swirling your tongue around it, making you hear his needy moans again. He was standing next to the bed, and you were on your fours when unexpectedly Eric came from the back and slammed his cock inside you without any prior notice. Juyeon's hands already stretched you well, but Eric's size made you see all the stars. Being in the doggy position made you feel different spots. Your mascara got completely smudged up from tears which started going while your body tried to get used to the sizes inside your mouth and your core. A few minutes and many thrusts later, you started clenching and you felt both Juyeon and Eric cum inside you, you simultaneously reaching your second orgasm and your body becoming weak to their core and collapsing on the bed.

"Look at our goddess taking us both so well." said Juyeon. He went out for a second and came back with a something in his hand. "Close your eyes kitten, I have a small surprise for you". All of a sudden your eyes went black and a second later, your body froze. And then at once you had both Eric and Juyeon on you, each of the guys giving attention your nipples. But this was a different kind of feeling - they took an ice cube in their mouth and while the cube being in the mouth they both mercilessly sucked and licked your nipples - the left one was Juyeon's and right one Eric's. It was their warm, tender lips stroking one of the most sensitive part of your body mixed with the freezing feeling of the cube giving you shivers all over your body.

After the ice cubes melted, Eric slowly stood up and came to his drawer. "Since you were so curious about it, shall we use some pretty toys on you, y/n?" pointing at his sex toy collection.

He took a big clit vibrator in his hand, handed it to Juyeon, which put it to the highest speed and placed it on the perfect spot. You've never used toys before and someone else using them on you turned you even more on. The vibrator did wonders, but just before you wanted to orgasm, Juyeon turned it off.

"What the fuck Juyeon, why did you stop?"

"You aren't allowed to cum until I allow you to."

You got angry. You knew he was jealous so you wanted to make him even more furious.

"And what if I want someone else to make me cum?" you said with a tricky voice, turning up to Eric and starting to ride him.

"Show me what you got, Eric" you said to your best friend, him controlling the pace and placing his hand around your neck pulling just as much as pressure for the choking to spice you up. You couldn't see Juyeon anymore.

All you could hear is noise from the drawer.

Probably he was putting the vibrator back, you thought. But instead he pulled lube out of Eric's drawer. He approached you and you knew it because you felt his warmth on your back. But you didn't want to say anything.

Maybe you should have, because Juyeon took the lube and prepared your second hole for his entrance. And at that moment, you had your best friend and your lover double penetrating you. You loved the attention, especially from someone like them which exactly knew how to pleasure a woman.

"Fuck, don't stop! Don't you dare to stop!" you screamed from the bottom of your lungs, sweat on your forehead, with your makeup completely ruined, watery eyes, looking like a slut that you are. They haven't stopped but continued ruining you up to the point where the biggest, most powerful orgasm in your fucking life hit you. You started squirting, messing up the whole bed and your men pulling their cocks and spitting their cum all over your chest.

All three of you were laying on Erics bed, trying to catch your breaths. Soon after, you fell asleep, cuddled in between Juyeon and Eric.

"Do you do this often?" you asked Eric

"Do you expect less from two porn stars?" he answered, leaving you without words.

[dangermousie]

Here it is - the moment my heart switches from like to love, for Crichton and the show, on every rewatch.

It is such a little moment. Aeryn and John escaped and Aeryn made contact with Crais, her superior officer. Of course, neither John nor Aeryn know that Crais wants to kill John because of the accident which killed Crais' brother (And this is so the Farscape ethos - John is doomed and hunted for a moment of pure bad luck that happened the moment he ended up here, a moment he did not know about and cound do nothing to change. As he said in a much later episode, they’ve basically found the map to the cruelty of the universe.)

And there is the scene. John is captive, peacekeeper guns all around him. Crais circling him like his personal piece of property (Poor John. This is only a start. This is not the Aurora Chair, not Grayza, not Scorpius, not Scarrans, not Harvey). John watchful and realizing the wrongness (and OMG his innocence breaks my heart) and Crais telling him he'll dissect him. And Aeryn speaking up and telling Crais (and I love this. She didn't have to say anything. She didn't have, she should know it's a risk in such a society) that she didn't believe John was capable of killing Crais' brother because he is not intelligent or brave enough. And Crais, crazy Crais, fixating on her and asking her in this tone 'just how much time did you spend with this human?' And. And. And. This is the moment I fell in love with John Crichton all over again. He gives this quick, intense glance at the situation and he speaks up (to Crais), quietly and a little bit desperately: 'Not much, not much at all.' Why? It's so hard to put into words. I think because in the middle of all this (where there is the probability of him being killed in a gruesome fashion) he speaks up for Aeryn automatically, without the second thought. Maybe because even though as an alien he has no idea what is going on, he catches on so quickly, judges it so quickly, recognizes the danger to her, before she does herself. Maybe it's the seriousness, and the intensity, and the reassuring little nod he gives to her. Even utterly helpless himself, he tries to save Aeryn. This Crichton is not yet the Crichton that will literally turn the galaxy upside down to save the woman he loves, not someone who will make impossible choices and bear it all, but it's all in there already, all the qualities, and you can see that. In a way, knowing how all of these people will end up makes it even more delicious. Seeing Crais, all neat and orderly, before he went so crazy and AWOL (and his dishevelment definitely paralleled his fall from grace) and way before he redeemed himself. Seeing D'Argo as a self-concerned, immature, angry being. Seeing Aeryn as Peacekeeper Aeryn Sun, not a complex evolving human being yet, not a woman, not a being of her own will. But the seeds are still there. I cannot imagine other peacekeepers speaking up for John, trying to save him a bit. When John says 'You can be more' that is the thing. There is a 'you' in her to be more. There is something to start with. She has a soul that is not warped past return. And the chemistry between the two? Amazing. Even in this first ep, where they are nothing more than reluctant allies at first, disdain on her part and confusion on his. Btw, that first meeting? I love it love it love it so much. I watched 'pilot' after I've seen S4 and I remember going, as Aeryn threw him against the bulkhead and hit him and then demanded his rank and serial number. 'John, meet the future mother of your child.' Heh. God. It amazes me how far the two will come and yet how organically. And it's so true about all the relationships. Watch D'Argo and Crichton interact here: the anger on D'Argo's part the 'he is crazy' on John's. They don't even tolerate each other and yet by the end they are the best of friends. I love that Farscape, even though its romantic relationship was so crucial (didn't David Kemper or someone describe Farscape as a 'love story') also had all these incredible, well-developed, organic, fascinating other relationships: friendships, familial. Another thing I love? John saves the day with his brain. God, how much do I love that. He is a scientist, not a military guy, not a 'space jockey' like his Dad. He is a scientist. And that is why he can never get used to collateral damage, to killing, no matter how much of it he does, he is forced to do. And the show never forgets that. Farscape is one of those rare fictions (because I am not just talking about shows, but movies and books as well) where I do get convinced that John is indeed brilliant. And that he loves the science, he loves discovery, he loves the work. Despite wormholes being tainted so much with everything else, he is genuinely excited, involved in working on them. I keep remembering the S3 finale where even though he is pretending to work for Scorpius, he can't help but get into it, where equations literally pour out of him in scribbles everywhere, on windows, on pieces of paper, writing on his own arms. John is an obsessive. Here it is yet small: he wants to prove his theory. And even in the middle of the escape he is excited that it's proven. His obsessiveness will of course be brought out spectacularly by his stress later on, and his feelings, but it's already here.   But to get back to what I was saying: I just love that he gets to win with his brain. And that is consistent. Because that is why he becomes the defacto leader of Moya. Not his amazing fighting prowess. He becomes quite competent in the later seasons, but he will never be pure warrior the way D'Argo or Aeryn are. It's his brilliant, crazy, completely creative plans. That, and the power of his conviction. John's conviction is an utter, absolute, contageous thing. It's not brought out fully yet, but I am struck by the foreshadowing of when he tells Aeryn to come with them, tells her she can be more, changes her life. It's the same conviction that will later have him walk into a Scarran station, unarmed, most wanted man in the galaxy, to get Aeryn out. And getting the Moya crew to come with him.   But then, all of John is already here, just not forced to the surface yet. His crazy humor as way of coping with the insane universe about him. The core of steel (he is lost and dazed in this new word which is great because he is in a way proxy for the audience, but he doesn't bend before D'Argo e.g. and he is adamant to D'Argo about taking Aeryn with them or no one escapes), the inner decency and basic kindness (that kindness will be almost beaten out of him but shadows will always remain) when he tapes up the broken eye-stalk of the DRD - “merely” a mechanical critter on Moya. Oh. GUH.

@mousieta I am so glad we are doing this!

[trashcatsnark]

NGL I love how much you have embraced the silverv stuff here - its so nice to read. I submit for consideration, Rogue notices the tattoo while on the disaster date and both Johnny and V play it off as a joke and holy shit poor rogue stuck in a room with two morons.

Also - V getting dressed for that date and realizing they just MIGHT be a little jealous with a side of some thoughts of "Oh God Johnny Would NEVER Feel That Way About Me Gotta Bury This Deep So He Doesn't Know"

Johnny notices the anxiety but is very dense about the cause.

Oh hell yeah, I have fully embraced it and this ship; I was writing SilverV porn before the game came out, like I knew what my ship for this game was gonna be from the second I saw gifs of

“You’re a dick, Johnny” 

“And you’re a cunt, so maybe we’ll fit together after all.” 

That banter sealed my fate and I’m fairly sure I had named and created my V then wrote porn of her with Johnny literally a week later. The devil works hard, but my brainrot works harder and faster. 

Spoilers! 

Okay, so I’ve thought a lot about that date in both a silverv context (and largely how it fits with my V, Aidan and her fic) I’ll try to stay general though. 

Firstly, I whole heartedly believe Rogue sees through their bullshit. Not only is she just good at that, but Johnny even states she has MRE’s (?) and can see through people, like her eyes can pick up on signs of lying. And usually, thats not an issue for when V talks to her, but when she asks about Johnny and their relationship with him. Its a mess. And when Rogue asks Johnny about it, its a mess. 

And when Rogue notices the tattoo it’s like Oh... I get it . And Johnny is of course like, “hahaha, yeah I thought that’d be so funny, the kid hates it.” But Rogue isn’t stupid, she knows a lovey dovey heart with their names, something that looks like someone doodled it on their third grade notebook about their crush, is not really typical of Johnny’s “joking” She knows that if Johnny is not really the kind of guy to hahahaha its so funny to make it look like we love each other; he’d be more likely to get a dick tattooed on V’s arm if it was just to mess with them. For gods sake, look how many people didn’t pick “the other one” because they were convinced it was gonna be a dick. That’s a Johnny just trying to fuck with someone move. So, she doesn’t buy it, but doesn’t push it...with him. 

She asks V about and of course they play it off as “Yeah, Johnny thought it’d be funny, what a fucking asshole, its so fucking dumb, I totally fuckin hate it.” 

“So, why not get it removed?” 

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh, well you see what had happened was, um, I, just uhhhh, never been enough time, I guess yeahhhhhh.” 

Cause lets face it, in cyberpunk universe, getting a tattoo removed should be easy. If you can get blades in your arms and can have a completely newly reconstructed body in like an afternoon; you can get a tattoo removed in like twenty minutes. So, V still keeping it, says volumes about how they really feel.

Now, V’s jealousy and the date. 

I do absolutely agree that any anxiety or ill feeling V might have up until the date; Johnny is gonna feel, but not realize where it’s coming from. I think if anything, he’s gonna chalk it up to V being anxious about giving him control again and he’s gonna be like worried that maybe V doesn’t trust him as much as they let on. 

And I do think a V who has feelings for Johnny, would not be able to help feeling some jealousy regarding Rogue and Johnny. Just because jealousy is natural thing to feel and while you can debate if they were ever a good or healthy couple, you can’t debate they shared very real feelings for one another. And I think a lot of V’s jealousy would come from just how much Johnny seems to first think of/go to Rogue. When he needed to save Alt, first person he turned to, Rogue. When he wanted to bomb Arasaka tower (going by his memory of it and ignoring that the event was probably actually planned by Morgan Blackhand), who’d he go to? Rogue. When he becomes determined to get Smasher, who is he determined to get him with, Rogue. When he first decides to atone for his past mistakes, who’s the first person he wants to make up with, Rogue. When at the rooftop, who does he want to go grab to help him save V, Rogue. 

If you got feelings for someone, that’d hurt, I think it’s impossible for that not to spark some jealousy. And V if anything is also mad at themselves for having those feelings, because they like Rogue, she’s a badass, a legend, they respect the hell out of her. And of course they have feelings for Johnny and they wanna help him make shit right and they wanna give him a chance to enjoy himself. But this stupid reptilian part of their brain is screaming but i want to be the first person he goes to, the first person he thinks about, which they know is also stupid cause for fucks sake the man literally lives in their brain, they’re as close as two people can be and literally when Johnny has the power to go to someone for something, he can’t go to V because they’re reduced to sleeping essentially until Johnny hands back the reigns. Yet, feelings aren’t aren’t always, rational, sadly. 

And to Johnny’s credit, he probably doesn’t even give it that much thought. Rogue is a badass, someone he cares for, someone he can depend on and someone he hurt really badly. The two people he can and always has been able to depend on the most (other than Alt prior to her death) have been Kerry and Rogue. And, bless his heart, the fuck is Kerry gonna do? Kerry ain’t a merc, Kerry isn’t gonna bust into Arasaka Tower or plant a bomb. Kerry doesn’t have the connection to Smasher. So, of course, Rogue is gonna be his go to. And in terms of making things up to people...he literally cannot really do much to make things up to V, not the way he can for Rogue or Kerry. Cause, when him and V are both conscious, he can’t do much beyond touch and talk to them. Hell, even with Rogue and Kerry, he relies mostly on V to help him do anything. Even with people he can interact with and do something for; V is doing all the nitty gritty work for him. V drives Rogue to the theater, V breaks into the theater, V gets the projector going. V breaks into Kerry’s house, V disables the security. V gets in contact with Nancy. V gets Nancy out of Totentanz in one piece. 

Which probably if V actually thought about it critically, does mean he’s going to them and relying on them more than Rogue, but they’d probably dismiss it out of it being for necessity and not because he cares about them and feels he an depend on them. 

Anyhow, Johnny would probably love to do some nice gesture to make up for his bender to V, hell they probably were the first person he wanted to make things up since they are his catalyst for changing. But what feasibly can he do for them? Anything he’d want to do with/for them, would just be asking V go do this thing and i’ll also be here. Anything that would put them in public interacting is out, unless they want MaxTac called on V for looking cyberpsychotic. He can’t even do an at home date, because he can’t cook (engram or not) and he can’t buy them anything nice he has no money and also doesn’t technically exist. He could try to do so sneakily while he’s in control...but he’d be using V’s money so they might as well just buy it for themselves. he can play music for them,,. but that doesn’t seem too special and more than a little egotistical to think it’ll make V feel better about what he did... So... all he can really do, is prove he’s worth trusting by being on his best behavior and more importantly do what he can to save V’s life. 

Then there’s the date. And as usual, I have some opinions and feelings about a thing.  Like, okay, I’ve seen some people (aka Gamer Bros on Twitter) being like, Rogue is Johnny’s girl. Wanting to date either of them is wrong because they like each other. (then you also get the BUT ALT crowd, but rants for another day.) And I can’t help but ask, did we play the same date? Their entire date is about how they’re both desperately clinging to the past. Rogue is trying to reclaim 2013-2023 Rogue and Johnny just wanting for a night to feel like the world and his place in it haven’t been completely rearranged. And it ends with Rogue telling him, she is not that girl anymore, she can’t pretend to be, and frankly she doesn’t want to anymore. She wishes she could be, wishes she was still that tall haired street punk who’d never dream of working with corps or being a fixer, but she’s not. Her and Johnny are no longer the same people who met back in to 2010’s. Doesn’t mean they don’t care about one another and doesn’t mean what feelings they had weren’t real or important; but they’re just not those people anymore. Rogue more so than Johnny since he’s freshly on the course of change.   

Something else in regards to the date, that I think is important to talk about and how it relates to silverv and its something I personally have very conflicting feelings about. The fact that Johnny can initiate some physical intimacy with Rogue. See, I have never chosen the option to kiss Rogue during the date and actually did not learn until relatively recently, that if that choice is made it goes a biiit further than a kiss. I have watched the scene now.

And god I have mixed feelingssss. Like, I get it, but I’m not sure I like it. And I know full well, my silverv bias impacts my feelings on the matter, it’s be disingenuous to say otherwise. But I don’t think the ship is purely my reason for having these feelings. But at the end of the day, its all opinions. So, I get from a character perspective that Johnny and Rogue are trying so hard to reclaim their past and what they use to have that they get caught up in trying do what they would do if this was the 2010’s. And Johnny’s relationships as we’ve seen are very physical, sexual chemistry and attraction are major factors in his relationships because he kept things very superficial most of the time. He even says part of the issue with his relationship with Rogue is at the time he didn’t realize he could let her see the true him and still hid behind walls, kept things at a distance. So, the idea that’d they fall back into the old habit of trying to just be physical and ignore their feelings, isn’t out of character. 

However, and Johnny even seems to acknowledge this issue when Rogue interrupts it, they’re doing this with V’s body. V...who did not consent to sexual contact. They consented to a date and while one could logic that this would mean everything a date could entail up to and including physical intimacy; I would argue that that is something that would need further conversation to have clear consent. And like again, this might come down to boundaries and personal feelings. Because I go back to the bender and what’s been interesting to me is too see different opinions on it; some people weren’t actually bothered at all by Johnny’s bender in V’s body, some people were bothered by the drugs and alcohol specifically cause their V is straight edge. Me, personally, it was the sexual content and the endangering of V’s life. Like, it was mostly funny and oh yeah, I expected that it’s bad but eh I’ll move on, to me, until he started getting sexual with people in V’s body. Like that to me is not just crossing the line, it’s catapulting over it. 

And like I said, Johnny even responds to Rogue’s “this isn’t fair” with “what, you mean it’s not fair to V?” which she says she meant it isn’t fair to Johnny. (Which viscerally upset because you nearly used V’s body for sexual gratification without their consent and you’re worried about Johnny, which tbf Rogue has no way of knowing what V has and hasn’t consented to, so its not on her but that was my knee jerk thought). So, he has some awareness that maybe that was a bad move. 

And yeah, it definitely to me and my V would be a very bad move (unless he explicitly talked to them beforehand and got consent). And in general, it made me feel like, dude, you just promised you’d be better and not break V’s trust but again not a day later you’re nearly using them to have sex. It felt like a backslide, which isn’t necessarily unrealistic, cause change and growth is not always linear, people can commit to changing themselves and still fuck up and not get it right; in fact it’s rare for them not to have any sort of backsliding or repeating of mistakes. 

Again, I will also give credit that he could have been assuming that given V consented to the date, they assumed or were cool with their being physical intimacy between him and Rogue. He also generally, might not have really planned for it to happen, because I don’t think Johnny plans a lot of anything. It very well might have just sort of happened. Also, V doesn’t clearly communicate if the sexual component was an issue in the bender. All V really seems to have an issue with in game is the very general thing of; he misled them and used them. So, he might have assumed that wasn’t ever an issue. And hell, if you wanna go full meta, the player is technically the one who makes that choice and V is largely an avatar for the player, so that alone could be seen as whether or not V would/does consent. 

But, from a story perspective, removing the player choice element. I think how that’s handled would have a huge impact on silverv and where it goes from there. 

Because if V and Johnny did talk about consent prior and V did consent while having feelings for Johnny, god I’d have to imagine they’d still feel pretty hurt, but feel it’s irrational to feel that way and have put their own feelings aside because clearly Johnny cares about and wants Rogue and they should ruin what could be his one chance to make things right. 

If there like in game was no talk of consent and Johnny ends up kissing and touching on Rogue and V finds out or has memories of it surface,that could be devastating for them. Not only from their own feelings for Johnny, but this since of betrayal and hurt. Was the oil field conversation just a lie? A manipulation? V might feel like they were used; that Johnny never gave a shit about them or how they feel. And Johnny would have to deal with the realization that intentionally or not; he earned back V’s trust just to destroy it again. He fucked up again, he ruined everything again, he got his second chance and destroyed it…. And he doesn’t know how, if he can, or if he should bother trying to ask for a third. In general, I do think, V would come out of the date assuming (naturally so) that Johnny really only has romantic feelings towards Rogue, that they’re just a friend at best, a host to be used at worse. I even in my own universe with my V have them after everything is better, everyones got a body, expects Johnny to start pursing Rogue and trying to swallow their own feelings and be a supportive friend, try to encourage and push him to do it and Johnny’s just like please stop, Rogue is this close to murdering us both.

I was gonna add more funny stuff to this and include a shitposty interaction he has with my V over them dressing up for the date and shit, BUT HOLY FUCK THIS GOT LONG AND SAD????? I’M SO SORRY.

[lets-just-daydream]

Heya, I first off wanted to say I love your writing! It’s so cool seeing how you approach such a wide range of topics and characters in a very unique way each time. Second, I was wondering if you could do some angsty stuff, maybe Hanzo, McCree or Genji cheating on their S/O and her basically having to rebuild herself from the ground up, maybe even have them run into each other a few years later. I’m not sure if this has been requested or not but I’m feeling like having my soul crushed. ^3^

Angst is the way to my heart uwu

Also thanks for your kind words and I'm so sorry this took forever pls forgive me ❤️ also there's a little not sfw in there but nothing too intense :)

* HANZO *

Living in Shimada Castle was like a dream. You were waited on hand and foot and your partner was the dreamiest man alive. Yes, Hanzo Shimada, heir to the Shimada throne had chosen you to rule by his side. 

You had your doubts initially but Hanzo had assured you that you would be happy and looked after. 

"You will want for nothing, my blossom," he promised you. 

All of the promises came crashing down on you when you arrived home early from an errand, seeing Hanzo on top of another woman, thrusting into her with a frenzy that sent a sickness into your core. 

"Oh my god," you breathed before turning and running out of the room and through the halls. 

Hanzo froze for a moment, not believing what was happening. He scrambled to his feet and called your name, running after you, holding sheets around his waist to preserve what little dignity he had left.

"My love, please!" he begged, chasing you through the grounds. 

He finally caught up to you and grabbed your wrist.

"Don't touch me!" you cried, ripping your wrist from his grasp. 

Your tear stained cheeks and messy hair broke Hanzo. How could he have done this to you? 

"I don't want to see you or hear from you ever again," you choked, "and you can have this back, too." 

You pulled the engagement ring from your finger and threw it at Hanzo. His features twisted into an expression of heartbreak as terror took over. He racked his brain to think of something, anything to say to you before you could leave.

"My lo-"

"Don't embarrass yourself any further," you mumbled. "Goodbye, Hanzo."

That was the last time you saw Hanzo. That day had left you shattered for months and years on end. Until one morning, you realised you no longer cared. It was liberating and you felt like you could finally move on with your life. 

You found a new job, a new home and you had built yourself a new happy little life. 

"Morning, the usual?" the barista asked you as you stopped by the coffee shop on your way to work. 

"Please," you said with a smile as you dug around for change.

"I will cover this one," said a familiar voice that made you freeze. 

"Of course, mister Shimada," the barista said, taking the payment. 

You tried to steady your breathing, not wanting to believe what was happening. You gulped and thought for a second, deciding to turn and face the man you had once loved.

"Hanzo," you accused, looking up at the man who ruined your life years ago. He had aged slightly and his features were sharper, but there was an obvious trace of exhaustion on his face. 

"Hello, blossom," he greeted. 

"Oh, so I'm 'blossom,' am I?" you asked, unimpressed. 

Hanzo sighed and hung his head, saying your name softly. 

"You have no idea how terrible my life has been since that day," he started. 

"Look, whatever it is you have to say, I don't want to hear it. And I have to get to work," you said, taking your drink, heading to the exit. 

"Please," Hanzo begged, grabbing your wrist. 

"What is with you and touching me when I don't want you to touch me?!" you demanded, pulling from his grip. 

Hanzo dropped his hand and apologised,

realising that you weren't going to forgive him so easily. He wasn't sure you would forgive him at all. 

"Will you please hear me out?" Hanzo asked. The desperation in his voice and his ragged appearance tugged at your heart and for a moment you forgot about all those years ago. 

"Hanzo," you sighed. 

You thought for a moment as he looked at you, hoping you would say something to ease the sorrow in his heart. You thought back to the day you found him in bed with someone else and bile rose in your throat. 

"You seem to forget that I told you I never want to see or hear from you ever again," you stated. 

"I-I" Hanzo stammered, his face turned a deep shade of red and he stood there with his mouth agape as he struggled to think of the right words to say. 

You stood, an expectant eyebrow raised and tapping your foot impatiently. 

"I've moved on," you said, stepping around him to exit the store. "And you should too."

Hanzo could do nothing but watch as you left, he had a feeling that this time, he really was seeing you walk away for the last time. 

* MCCREE * 

Your relationship with McCree was anything but normal. When you first met the cowboy you thought he was a complete creep and you kept your distance from him. It didn't last long and you eventually succumbed to his charm and became another notch on his belt. 

You were different to other girls, though. McCree confessed to you that he could see a future with you and he wanted to take things beyond physical chemistry and see what more could blossom between you. It was beautiful for a time and you had found the one.

Or so you thought. 

"I can't believe we're doing this," the girl giggled as McCree sucked and kissed her neck. 

"What she don't know won't hurt 'er," McCree sighed as he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. The girl got on her knees and took McCree's length in her mouth, pleasing him and causing lewd moans to escape from his lips. 

You arrived home after a long day at work and dropped your bag and keys by the door. You made it your bedroom and were shocked at the sight of McCree being pleasured by an unknown woman. 

"J-Jesse?" you stammered.

"Sweetheart!" McCree cried, stepping back from the woman and struggling to pull his pants back up. Before he got the opportunity to say anything more, you left the room, grabbing your keys and leaving the house, not returning again. 

It had been a few months and you were finally over what happened that night with McCree. He had tried to contact you many times during that time but you screened every call and message. One day, you recruited some of your friends to accompany you back to your old place to pick up some of the things you had left behind.

"Angel!" McCree cried when he answered the door, seeing you standing there. 

"Jesse," you said blankly. "I'm just here to get my stuff, please stay out of my way." 

"B-but…" McCree blubbered. 

"Outta the way, McCree," one of your friends said, pushing McCree aside so you could get through.

"Darlin', please… I'm sorry for what I did. I've been so broken since you left me," McCree pleaded, following you around the house as you gathered your things.

You ignored him as he followed, your friends making sure he didn't get too close. 

"I've moved on, Jesse. I'm not interested in what you have to say."

McCree blubbered and pleaded as you finished gathering your things and headed for the door. 

"Sweet pea," he breathed, grabbing your hand as you left. 

"I'm not your 'sweet pea', 'darling' or anything else. Goodbye." 

All McCree could do was watch as you wrenched your hand from his grip and leave, no room in your life for him anymore. 

* GENJI *

You were reluctant to date the young and infamous playboy. You had enjoyed many a makeout session in the back of the club you frequented together but when Genji had proposed that you date properly, you were wary. Genji had tried time and time again to prove to you how serious he was. He finally gained your trust after a few weeks of hanging out with you at your place on Saturday nights instead of going out. 

You took it slow and you were glad you had given him a chance. You regretted however, one Saturday night. 

You asked him what his plans were for that night and he said he was having a night in at home, tired and wanting to catch up on rest. You understood and told him to take it easy, instead messaging your friends and asking if they would like to go out instead. 

You all met up and drank, partied and danced. Many men tried making advances on you and you politely declined, informing them that you were spoken for. Your fun night out came to an abrupt end when one of your friends pulled you to the side, biting her lip and freaking out. 

"Umm, I don't know how to tell you this… but look over there," she gulped, pointing to a couple making out in the corner. 

You looked at them, confused until you recognised the male. You recognised the strong shoulders and short hair that belonged to your boyfriend. Your heart dropped and you felt a pang of nausea in the pit of your stomach.

You marched over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to face you, surprised to see you standing there, a mix of rage and hurt in your eyes.

"O-oh," was all Genji could manage, not knowing what to say. 

"At home," you murmured, unable to say anything else as bile rose and tears threatened to spill. "Liar." 

You turned on your heel and left the club, your friends following behind you, shooting death glares at Genji.

You went home and your friends stayed with you all night in pyjamas. Tissues, drinks and ice cream were plentiful and within arm's reach. Genji tried coming over to smooth things over with you but your friends stopped him at the door. 

"She doesn't want to see you," they scolded. "You should leave."

"Please let me see her," Genji pleaded. "I made a mistake and I want to make it right." 

Your friend ran up to your room and explained that Genji was at your door and he wanted to speak to you. 

"Alright," you sighed.

"Are you sure? We can tell him to get lost." 

"I can handle it," you said, standing and padding over to the door where Genji stood. His hair was a mess, his nose was slightly red and his eyes puffy. 

"Babe, I'm sorry!" he apologised. "I was stupid and-"

You held up a hand and Genji stopped talking, waiting for you to say something. 

"I don't care what you have to say. You lied to me and that's not something I'm going to forgive you for," you said. "I'd appreciate it if you left." 

"But, I'm sorry!" Genji cried. 

"You can't sweet talk your way out of this one. Bye, Genji." 

You shut the door and Genji stared at the closed door in front of him, mentally beating himself up for being so stupid. 

[yuthoe]

Day 30: Partners (MONSTA X: Chae Hyungwon)

this is horrible HAHAHAHA it's the second-to-the-last day of MTM and today's prompt is:

Day 30: Sports Setting

and i was going to make like an "i can do anything better than you" plot, but this is the most i can do with the time i had today. was super busy and this deformed baby is what was born. hayyyy idk, i was really looking forward to this prompt bc (1) the premise i made was really fun and (2) it's hyungwon HAHA but apparently my brain juices have run out

ALSO IF Y'ALL ARE WONDERING, the sport they're doing is dancesport aka competitive ballroom, which i also practice hihi i'm so predictable, trying to insert dancesport into every sports related thing lmao. it is 100% a sport and south korea is also a member of the world dancesport federation. it was so hard trying to describe the steps without being overly technical and using the actual names man, brain hurty

PAIRING: Chae Hyungwon x reader. GENRE: fic, fluff. WARNINGS: swearing. WORD COUNT: 1,470.

---

“Two—three—cha-cha-cha! Two—three—cha-cha-cha! One more—cha-cha-cha!” your coach chants, clapping in time to the beat as you and Hyungwon spin around the dance floor. You end with your right feet forward and in an open hold, your hands held lightly in his. The music stops and all that’s audible is your labored breathing.

“Oh my god, fuck,” Hyungwon says, letting go of your hands and doubling over to take in deep breaths. You drop your hands to your hips and walk around, trying to slow your heart rate before sitting down to grab water. “How long until the end of the combo?”

Your coach leans on the wall next to the sound system, leisurely scrolling through his phone. “Not long, just a few more steps,” he says. “Ten minute break and we’ll try the rumba. And let’s try to finish it today, shall we? So we can work on your jive on Wednesday.”

You waddle over to your bags and crouch down to grab your water bottle and squirt some much needed liquid in your mouth. You let out a satisfied sigh after swallowing, breathing out slow before standing back up and wiping your sweat with a towel.

Hyungwon does the same, leaning one hand on the mirrored wall as gulps down water. He rests one foot on its heel and turns it this way and that, flexing and pointing his toes to stretch the muscles; the other foot gets the same treatment.

You go up to the mirror, a little ways away from your partner, and lean your weight on both hands to practice your swivels. Left foot steps to the right and as you change weight, bring the right foot in and face to the left side; repeat starting from the right foot; repeat starting from the left foot.

It’s quiet in the studio as you mind you continue your swivels and Hyungwon reviews the choreography on the floor. For the nth time these past two weeks you wonder how you ended up with him as a partner. You still somehow can’t believe that there isn’t another guy available in the club to compete with you for the Lilian’s Cup this season—and you still somehow can’t believe that Hyungwon of all people offered to partner with you.

It’s not like he’s a bad club member—far from it, actually. He shows up for every club meeting, sure sometimes he’s late but he participates the whole time and even asks to stay behind to work on the choreography sometimes when it’s a particularly tricky variation. You just. Never really talk. He hangs out with the couple of friends he has in the club, and you stick to the club officers who you know from some of your classes.

There’s this tiny voice in the back of your head that’s nagging at you to just talk to him. Because in the five training sessions you’ve had this month, not once have you spoken to each other save for the cursory greetings before and after practice. It’s mostly you both talking to your coach and not acknowledging each other.

Which is really bad, given that you’re supposed to be partners and have chemistry, especially for a dance like the fucking rumba.

You sigh, closing out the couple of cucarachas you did to stretch out your hips and slide over to watch Hyungwon.

He’s just starting the second combo you’ve learned for the routine, the natural top. So you slide into the ballroom hold and do three sets of rumba walks forward in time, looking at anything but him, though you can imagine the surprised look on his face.

After the natural top, you slide into an opening out and prepare for the sliding doors step, when you see Hyungwon stop from the corner of your eye.

His arms are outstretched in the proper positions, his left hand still holding your right, but the rest of his body is stuck in an unflattering stance, eyes flitting about and brows furrowing in frustration. “What’s the next step again?”

“Sliding doors,” you say, and step forward. He steps back as you lean your weight on your forward foot and lift your connected hands up and over your head. You step slowly, allowing him to find his footing in the step, and after a moment of fumbling, you watch both of you in the mirror, properly meeting in the middle and splitting with every side step. After the second sliding doors step, you halt, coming to the end of the choreography so far. There’s still a ways to go, seeing as you’ve only been taught around sixteen bars.

Despite the rumba being a slow dance, you’re still somehow breathing heavily. You lament sometimes that the rumba is your favorite dance because the muscle control it requires is insane. The push and pull between slow and sharp movements gets you off kilter at some points, especially if those difficult turns have to be done without support from a partner. Therefore, communication is necessary to build a solid foundation of give-and-take.

Which means you really have to open your mouth and talk to Hyungwon sometime soon if you want to do well for the Lilian’s Cup.

You pivot to face him, the canvas soles of your heels helping your sharp turn. “Do you need help with the choreo?”

Hyungwon had been staring at the ceiling, no doubt running through the routine in his head once again, but looked down at you when you spoke. He shrugs, bites his lips and says, “Yeah.” He sighs, resting his hands lightly on his hips as he leans on one foot, the other tapping the floor in agitation. “I have a tough time memorizing choreo unless I make it, so…”

You blink. “You make routines?”

Another shrug, and he holds up a hand with the palm down and tilts it from side to side. “Eeehh, sometimes. I’m still learning, and it’s full of basic steps. Definitely not competition caliber yet, not even bronze.”

You purse your lips, nodding. “Still, though, that’s pretty impressive. I’ve been dancing for a while and I can’t create choreo yet.”

“Well,” Hyungwon says, bending his lanky body backwards to open up his chest. “The first step is always the most challenging, I’d say. Once you actually try, it’s easier to take the next steps.” He intertwines his fingers and raises them above his head, groaning from the strain.

You smile at that, and decide that maybe Hyungwon is a better conversation partner than you initially thought. “How about we set like, a day in the week to practice. Just us, you know. I can help you memorize the routines for Lilian’s and you can teach me the stuff you make.” You clear your throat, gaze stuck on your feet, pointing and flexing and looking for something to do. “You know. If you’re cool with it.”

Hyungwon hums. “Yeah, sure.” You look up to see him looking into space, finger tapping on his chin as he thinks. “Can we meet up in the afternoon, though? ‘M not much of an early riser.”

You chuckle. “‘Course. I hate mornings, too.” You wipe your sweaty forehead with your towel and let it hang over your head like a veil as you jog to your bag. You come back to Hyungwon’s side a moment later, holding your phone out. “I also just realized that I don’t have your number yet. It’ll make setting up a date way easier.”

“Mm, you’re right about that,” he says, slender fingers taking your phone and tapping on the screen before handing it back to you. His contact is saved as Dance Partner Hyungwon. “Just a warning tho, I might not reply sometimes because I forget to.”

You tap your phone against your palm and shrug. “S’all right. I’ll just ask one of your friends to pester you then, like Minhyuk. I know he’s pretty… persistent.”

Hyungwon scoffs, but he has a fond smile on his face. “Yeah, that’d do the trick. I’ve known him for years, he won’t shut up unless I humor him.”

You’re about to reply when two loud claps echo through the room. “Okay, you two, break’s over,” your coach calls. “Starting positions please, and let’s finish up this routine today so we can just keep polishing.”

After dumping your towel and phone on your bag and sliding your hand into Hyungwon’s as you get into position, you whisper to him. “I’ll text you later about that after-practice practice.” As the sultry music starts, you have a thought. “And don’t you dare pretend you don’t know me when I finally message you, Chae Hyungwon.”

He bites his lips and looks over your shoulder, fighting a laugh. “Fine, fine,” he says, and composes himself, just in time for your cue to take the first step.

[chocolate-raspberries]

What Happened to those Nights? Isaac Lahey x Reader

Summary - All of a sudden you lost your best friend, with no explanation. All you wanted was some sort of answer as to what could’ve went wrong.

Prompt - “I read that when you cuddle a pillow you’re missing human affection, so maybe you can cuddle me?”

Paring - Isaac Lahey x Reader

Words - 1.6k

A/N - Hi! This is the very first fanfic I have ever written, all honestly it’s probably the first thing I’ve written that isn’t some sort of school essay or lab report. This is for @stiles-o-dylan24 1k celebration! So go over to her page and send some love and kind words, because she is a beautiful soul and writer. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

Warnings -  some light swearing, mostly angst until the end

Just as you feel yourself fall deep into sleep you feel a slight dip in the bed. Turning your head slightly you notice Isaac quietly trying to slip his way in next to you. This was at least a weekly occurrence, but every time your heart breaks slightly for the boy laying next to you.

As gently as you can, you raise a hand to his face to rub the tears away as you asked,

“Isaac, what happened.”

A few moments pass, as you place your hand under his cheek, lifting his head slightly in order to make eye contact.

“I- I didn’t finish the chemistry homework, it slightly lowered my grade, I can’t let him find out Y/N” he states softly, as a few more tears threaten to leave his eyes.

Moving closer you put your free hand in his curly locks, knowing it brought him comfort. You didn’t know the full extent of his father’s actions, but enough to know he shouldn’t be living there. You wanted to bring up the conversation. The one where you’d beg him to let you call the authorities, stating he can stay with you as long as you needed. You would do anything to bring his happiness. However, he always said that a part of him still remembers the man from his childhood and he doesn’t want to lose the last of his family. So, you did what you could- as you held him in the middle of the night, trying to find the right words. When you hear him begin to state that:

“Sorry, this is stupid I shouldn’t have woke--”

“Isaac, I care for you so much, whatever you need I am here for you.” 

You wanted to add more, state your true feelings outside of your friendship. How whenever you were able to see his true smile and joy your heart skipped a beat. How despite everything he still had a sense of confidence around him. For hell's sake he asked Lydia Martin out freshman year. How he somehow managed to worm his way into your heart. 

For now- you turn off the lamp besides you and pull him slightly closer as you both fall asleep.

That day was weeks ago. It has been weeks since Isaac spoke to you, hell even took a look in your direction. It seemed that overnight things changed. You didn’t know what you did wrong. You wanted to confront him, beg him to tell you what you did wrong. However, every time you caught sight of him, he seemed to disappear the second you started to walk his way or he would be accompanied by Erica Reyes. The once-shy girl who now can’t walk the halls without guys drooling over her new found confidence.  

With the ring of the final bell, you begin to rush out the doors. To the hopes of being able to climb into bed and reflect on another day passed without answers. Pondering how he went from softly laughing next to you in bed on a Friday night to now not even noticing your existence. Losing yourself to the flashbacks of previous nights, you lose awareness of your surroundings as you make your way to your car - until you hear yourself saying “Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention” 

Suddenly, you look up to find the ocean-blue eyes you fell in love with so long ago. A heavy weight fills your chest as every single argument you’ve created in your head seemingly vanish. The only thing coming out was a soft whisper, one that you barely could hear yourself.

“Isaac?”

You swear you could see his new personality disappear for a split second when he looked at you, but before your heart could complete a full beat it came back. Slightly pushing you away he began to walk away from you, without a single word said. Suddenly, you felt all your emotions come back to you. The initial denial of thinking it was all in your head- the anger that he could just deny your presence - to the final sadness that filled your room with used tissues and tear-stained pillows. All of a sudden you felt his arm in your hand as you attempted to force him to stop and turn around to look at you. 

“Listen, I don’t know what the hell I did, for you to hate me - I mean I have been racking my brain on what it could possibly be, but I always come up with nothing,” you pause, trying you attempt to let your rational thoughts to guide you- but the weeks of built up emotions still take charge. “I know--I know that life has never been ideal for you, especially with the recent passing of your father,  I just want you to talk to me-” then suddenly he sharply cuts you off with “You know nothing about my life, Y/N” 

Taken aback as you hold the tears threatening to spill you harshly retort with “So, what these past couple years were just nothing- seriously Isaac come up with something better” As you were about to continue your rant two strong hands are on your chest pushing you up into the nearest car. “Oh, Y/N, he’s right - why don’t you just walk away when you're ahead” Erica purrs as she continues “Just leave us alone, drop this silly school-girl crush you have,” ending with a slight scoff. 

Her hands leave you as Isaac rips Erica off of your body. As you watch the scene unfold you swear you see a small glint of gold in his eyes, but you brush it off as a reflection of the sunlight. Bringing yourself into the moment, cheeks flaring from processing Erica’s comment you walk to your car as fast as you can. Tuning out the hushed conversation that began between Isaac and Erica.

As you step into your room, you let everything out. The tears rushing down your red eyes as you climb into bed. You grab one of your pillows holding it towards your chest as your sobs continue. Tired eyes threatening to close, for you figured out that you’ve gotten so used to falling asleep next to him that it feels foreign to sleep alone, you bring yourself to remember the nights from just a few weeks ago. Thinking of how your body easily molded into his, the slight gasp whenever you buried your head into his chest, the cocky glint in his eye whenever he noticed the slight shivers down your spine when he gently rubbed it. 

A soft knock abruptly takes you out of your thoughts. Opening your eyes, you see Isaac standing in your door-frame. A copy of your house-key you made for him in his hand. He looks at you as if to ask permission to enter your room. You wave your hand to let him come forward as you let go of the pillow and leave your bed to meet him in the middle of the room. You know he can see the disarray of your room, but that does not stop you from standing your ground.

“What do you want, Isaac?” you spit out at him. He looks down, the look you’ve seen many times before, you could tell he was disappointed, upset at himself. “Listen, I’ve changed” - “well, no shit” you interrupt, but he continues. “I- I wanted to keep you safe and the only way I knew how was to push you away” There’s a pause as you try and process his words. You knew he was telling the truth, but you just didn’t know the implications behind that truth; however, he continues, “I want to tell you everything, please, give me another chance. Let me explain.” 

He looks up at you, his confidence beginning to crack. You let out a slight scoff and gently grab his hands. “Isaac, I trust you, completely, all I ask is for you to just tell me what’s going on, please don’t shut me out.” You felt one of his hands softly caress your cheek as he looks at you. You see that slight golden tint in his eyes once again as he stares at you. “Y/N, experiencing life without you was the worst mistake I made,” he whispers “You are the light of my life” he continues as his eyes drop to your lips. You feel yourself losing focus between his eyes and lips. Feeling his hand slip to under your chin you let yourself close your eyes as your lips met. Although it was just for a few moments, you felt every unspoken word that took place between you two in the last few weeks. 

Letting yourself live in the blissful moment for a few more seconds, you wait to open your eyes. When you do you are met with his beautiful smile, that you will soon learn is only reserved for you. Confidence striking him he says “you know darling, I read that when you cuddle a pillow you’re missing human affection, so maybe you can cuddle me?” A small chuckle escapes your lips as you guide him into bed with you. You lay down as you suddenly feel one arm wrapping around you to rub small circles on your back while the other softly caresses your cheek. Facing each-other you move yourself slightly closer to him in order to softly place one of your hands in his hair, being to absentmindedly play with it. 

With a soft smile he looks at you beginning his story with “It all started a few weeks ago while I was at work…” 

[hufflepuffhollander]

metempsychosis: t. holland series (pt. 3)

a/n | we’re finally getting to the good stuff :-) now that i’m turning this into a submission for a competition i’m having to change all of the names and tenses (bc i can’t submit “y/n” to professionals) so hopefully there aren’t too many typos !

synopsis | A young couple whose lives were both lost in a tragic accident are reincarnated as new people. As they collide as strangers in their second lives, they must try to make sense of the innate connection they feel.

cw | reincarnation au. language, fluff, a lil angst, flashbacks. this one ain’t too sad. 2.6k words.

Read part 2, join the taglist

1993

{ He took a gulp as he opened the door to see her sweet face waiting to be let in. “Hey, glad you found me,” he laughed nervously, arm reaching up and over to scratch at a nonexistent itch on the back of his head.

She wandered through the doorframe, taking in the smell of his apartment, counting the dirty dishes in the sink, smiling at the family photos he had on display. “I’m glad we’re finally getting around to having a movie night,” she grinned back.

“Sorry, you know how crazy school has been-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Chemistry this and med school that. I can’t believe I’ve found myself swooning over such a nerd.”

“Says the girl who prefers numbers to real people.”

She gave him a dramatic slap to the shoulder, feigning offense. “Just put on the movie before I ditch you for some spreadsheets.”

He gave her lower arm a lighthearted squeeze and guided her over to the couch, putting the tape in and plopping down next to her. He grabbed a blanket off of the armrest and whipped it up in the air, letting it fall spread out across her lap. She looked surprised at his intuitiveness. “I remember you telling me you can’t watch a home movie without a good blanket,” he said.

Her eyes crinkled at the edges at his attention to detail, picking up the corner closest to him and motioning for him to take half of the quilt. “Then you shouldn’t, either.”

The rom-com had an argument scene between the protagonist and his love interest where they disputed over who took what side of the bed the first time they slept together. He laughed at the silliness of it all as she sank further into his body as their chests rose and fell.

“Do you think we’ll need to pick sides of the bed?” he whispered as the scene changed.

“This is only our second date- I won’t be sleeping in your bed anytime soon, mister,” she smiled, stare still pointed at the screen.

“Well, fine, but it seems like this is a conversation we need to have if we have any chance of making it,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Let’s just pick sides of the couch then!” She looked down at her own lap, then at his. “I’m on the left side right now, so I’m claiming it as mine.”

“Wait, I didn’t even get a chance to experience the left side!’

“This is your couch,” she rolled her eyes at his playful tone.

“So I’m just stuck with the right?”

“Yes.”

“Forever?!”

“What other option would there be?”

He huffed in disapproval, but as time and movie dates passed, he had carved his own dugout in the left couch cushion that fit him like a glove. If he ever wasn’t on the right side of her, looking at her side profile from that specific angle, he couldn’t help but feel out of place. When they did finally share a bed, there was no need to fuss over who took which side, and no matter how many new couches they went through in different moves at different stages of their life, he sat to the right, learning to keep a throw pillow on his lap to anticipate her inevitably lying down and resting her head on it. }

You walked over to Tom, the soft padding of your feet against the wooden floors ringing out as the only sound in the suddenly quiet apartment.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Uh, coffee, if you have it,” he replied, still clutching the throw pillow in his lap.

“Really? At 8pm?”

“Yeah, caffeine doesn’t affect me, I have one of those recessed genes or something.”

You shrugged and obliged, happy to have something to keep you busy as you paced over to the kitchen to brew the coffee, holding your hip. Tom swiveled around to watch you work.

His words sliced through the silence. “Are you feeling any better than earlier? You seemed pretty off in the car-”

“I’m fine.” You didn’t want to replay the emotions you felt while Tom was driving in your head, so you cut him off before he could keep talking about it. “Here’s your coffee.”

He took a sip and burned his tongue, scrunching up his face in such a cute way that you couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, sitting down next to him on the couch.

“Fuck, that’s hot!” he started fanning his stuck out tongue like it would do something, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk when he noticed you were laughing.

“I’m sorry, you literally just watched me brew it...” You shrugged, still entertained by his dramatic display.

The mood changed then and you were finally able to loosen yourselves up, able to chime in with conversation, exchanging eye contact that didn’t make either one of you nauseous. Now that you had the chance to look into Tom’s eyes for a little while longer, you was able to see just how mesmerizingly milky they were.

He continued in a panic. “I can’t lose my tongue! That’s how I make a living!”

You raised an eyebrow at him and he shot back a face of realization.

“That did not come out how I meant it to.”

You giggled again, pulling a blanket over your lap.

“I meant because I sing-”

“Yeah, Tom, I figured.”

You both had laugh lines splaying across your faces and you felt yourself settle back into the cushions a little easier, growing more used to being in his presence. Once you had given it a chance, you and Tom actually got along quite well.

“Speaking of which, can I hear something?”

“You want me to play for you?”

“Well, I’m an artist and you got to see my work...so, yeah,” you smiled, poking at his shoulder.

“Um, I don’t have my guitar,” Tom blurted out an excuse, because he was currently terrified of singing to you; you already made him excitedly nervous enough.

But you weren’t letting him off the hook that easy. “Isn’t it just in your car?”

“...so you saw it, then.” He sighed in defeat, getting up to get his keys.

“Yep.”

“You’re really gonna make me sing for you?”

You smiled and nodded at him.

“It’s the least you can do now that I’ve graciously opened my home and my coffee pot up to you.”

He shook his head as he laughed and ran out to grab the instrument. Once he was settled back down on the sofa, you watched him with your head tilted to the side as he became lost in the strings, tuning and then strumming onto them a truly beautiful melody. He saw you in his peripheral so seemingly enthralled watching him play, your bottom lip half bitten as you focused on his hands and fingers moving.

“Well, truthfully, I haven’t come up with anything good in a few days,” he said, still in denial that his dreamy muse had abandoned him. “So what’s a song you know? I’ll just play a cover.”

You pondered for too long on the question, thinking your answer would hold a lot more weight about your character than it actually did. Tom was far from that kind of deep thinking; he was too busy taking in the way your wavy hair framed your hollow cheeks.

“How about ‘Iris’?” You took a chance on one of your favorite old songs, assuming he wouldn’t know how to play it.

“Ah, a classic.” He started to pluck out the first few notes, and you were amazed that he already knew it by heart. But where you expected to hear the lyrics come in, Tom stayed silent. He looked over to your confused expression and stopped the music.

“What?”

“Aren’t you gonna sing the words?”

“It’s not really in my range. You can though, if you want?”

You sat upright. “Me?”

“Well, if you wanna hear the words that badly,” he shrugged, grinning at you.

“Ugh, fine.”

“Wow, she paints and sings?”

“Hey, do you want me to or not?!”

He chuckled at you, loving how rosy your cheeks had gotten, and started the song over, his hands on autopilot.

You sang the first few words of the first verse, and upon hearing your voice, Tom’s jaw all but fell to the floor; he was completely awestruck.

That voice. He knew that voice.

1993

{ He sat slouched on his barstool, listening to someone do a country song a great injustice up on the microphone.

“Why did you drag me to this, mate?”

“To a bar?”

“To a bar with an open mic. I can’t listen to a Beatles’ classic being sung off key for a third time tonight.” He popped the top off of another beer and chugged it down as another amateur made their way to the front of the room.

The girl on the stage started to sing and he all but did a spit take. Her voice was incredible, melting into his ears like smooth butter. And once he turned to look at her, well, that was all it took. He had waded through the bar crowd so quickly that she was barely off the makeshift stage when he approached her, blurting out “Hi, you’re so beautiful, I mean, your voice, I mean...uh, can I buy you a drink?” and kicking himself afterwards for not even trying an ounce to playing it cool. But it didn’t matter; one look was all it took for her, too. }

Tom racked his brain as you continued to sing, your voice echoing through the apartment like an angelic aura. That was it, he thought, she sounds like the singing voice in his dreams—and the day he’d met you was the same day he’d stopped dreaming—no, no...that wasn’t possible.

But he couldn’t shake the eerie thought from his head. Were you trapped in his brain until he met you in person? Had his angel manifested itself into the beautiful singing girl sitting next to him?

He stopped the song halfway through as he felt a rush of copper through his forehead and down to his nose. Shit.

“Um, where’s your bathroom?” he shot up and covered his nose with his sleeve, his guitar haphazardly falling onto the couch behind him.

“Down the hall, first door on the left,” you answered, confused. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, just gotta-” Tom bolted down the hall and shut the bathroom door abruptly, uncovering his face in the small mirror to see a familiar trickle of red pooling above his upper lip. When he reentered the living room after cleaning himself up, he hadn’t realized that his blood had stained the collar of his t-shirt.

“Tom, you have...” you stood up and made her way over to him, touching your finger to his shirt. He looked down in horror and sighed heavily.

“Yeah, it’s…I’m sorry. I get these nosebleeds.”

You smiled up at him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I might have an extra shirt lying around, if you want it?”

Mortified but infatuated with how warming your touch was, Tom smiled back. “That would be great.”

You came out of your room with a t-shirt in hand. “This is the only one I have that will probably fit you,” you shrugged, tossing it to him and trying not to let your smile show as he stretched to take off his shirt right in front of you, revealing quite the body underneath. You pretended to busy yourself with something, anything, so he wouldn’t notice that you were watching him—but he did, and he didn’t mind it.

Tom’s phone lit up with a call in that moment, and he picked up to hear the tow trucker on the other end.

“Hey, sorry to let you know we won’t be getting out to your area for another few hours, turns out the truck lost its own tire on the freeway and we’re stranded,” the voice said, causing Tom to pace around the living room, speaking curtly with the man on the phone.

“Okay, right, thanks, bye.” He hung up and turned to you, pouting.

“My insurance is shit,” he shook his head. “They won’t be here for hours.”

You feigned upset, but neither of you were too unhappy about the opportunity to spend more time together.

“...do you have anything stronger than coffee?”

You winked at Tom as you made your way back into the kitchen. “Coming right up.”

You passed the night away, mixing your coffee with rum and childhood memories with the anecdotes of a broken heart. As the hours trickled by, you sank closer on the old couch; you kept track of Tom’s heartbeat, watching his chest rise and fall in rhythm, and he kept losing his train of thought in the gold specks of your eyes.

You opened up to him about your disability, and upon seeing you become so open, so vulnerable with him, Tom couldn’t help but lean forward, place a light hand around the shape of your cheek, and capture your lips in his own. Upon the contact, you both felt as if you had been delightfully tased—and it sent your head reeling.

You saw fragmented scenes in your head—images of flashing lights, a shouting couple, a tender, loving kiss frozen in time. As Tom pulled back, the fantastical man in your head followed suit, and you doubled over on the couch as a shock of familiarity churned your stomach at the realization that the man had been a dead match for Tom.

The flashes continued, and the girl on the receiving end of the kiss became less pixellated; you felt the warmth of a lifetime of memories flooding your system as you registered that the girl in the images was, in fact, you yourself.

Tom held you upright as you held your face in your hands, shaking your head softly. “y/n, what just happened? Was it the kiss? Did I read the room wrong? I’m-”

“No, Tom, it wasn’t you,  I just…” you trailed off, bolting up from the couch and quickly pacing to the kitchen. “I need some water.”

He watched you from his seat with concern, readying himself to run to your rescue, just as he heard the loud, startling sound of a horn. The tow truck had finally made it.

“You should go,” you said, refusing to turn around and look Tom in the eye for fear of making any more sense of what she’d just seen.

“y/n-”

“Please go.”

“Please tell me I can see you again.”

You thought on that for a moment, frightened but unready to let go of this mystery.

“Okay.” You remained staring out of the kitchen window.

Tom stood up and silently exited the apartment, closing the door softly behind him, wondering where in time and space he had just lost your thoughts. As he arrived home much later and finally succumbed to sleep, he wasn’t able to rest long as he was visited by his own nightmare.

He had been in the driver’s seat of his car, unidentified noises pinging here and there as he heard someone mumbling, unable to discern their words. He turned to the passenger, his vision lagging as it made its way to her, and saw none other than you, yourself but not, crying softly, the vividness of your features making the dream feel more like a memory. As he tried to lend a comforting hand—the arm in his dream seemingly extending a mile away to reach you—the car was hit with a blinding force, and the vision went black as he was jolted awake.

[michellesbohh]

Michelle Jones is soFT, okay?

Hello fine citizens. 

I’m over here like “work on your WIPs” and my brain says, “You mean start a completely unrelated oneshot?”and I say “Well no, but I do like where this is going so let’s finish this now instead.” 

My brain? “Abandon all structure and write a head canon? Got it.”

I don’t know why this is my take, but I just feel like MJ is (at least at first) fully annoyed with herself and how much she loves Peter Parker’s stupid dumb face. 

Not that she tries to hide it (she doesn’t) but it’s like a slight sense of resigned submission. 

Peter is as sweet and accommodating as he ever was and sometimes when he just looks at her (how dare) she just...can’t

With his dumb boy eyes practically sparkling at her across the lab in chemistry, MJ is finished.

And it’s worse because Peter knows about this now.

In the beginning he’d thought dating MJ would be just like being friends with MJ but 

Oh boy

He was so wrong. 

Being friends with MJ made his heart feel like it was trying to jump out of his chest just to get to her

So she would see him for real and maybe let him in?

But he could never tell exactly what she was feeling and really he still can’t. 

He would never claim to know everything about someone like MJ

Now that they’re dating though, Peter sees the little tells that only a boyfriend could. 

He knows what face she makes when he’s done something impossibly good and she struck by it. 

He’s intimately familiar with what Michelle looks like when she wants to kiss him but can’t 

MJ for her part has given up trying to pretend that she’s not completely on her ass for this boy all the time but that doesn’t mean she’s going to take this lying down!

Well...actually...

Whatever.

Coming to the realization that she was attracted to Peter Parker was indeed a shock

She reeled over it for several days initially at just the idea of being someone that got to kiss him and that he wanted to kiss back like WHAT

Once they actually crossed that line, MJ began to notice just how attracted to Peter she really was. And not even only in that way. She just wants to be close to him like...often. 

And okay, she’s seen his abs so it’s definitely 100% also in that way but we’re being soft rn

And she kind of hates it even if she doesn’t do anything to deny it. 

She’ll be standing at her locker and Peter will sometimes meet her there in the morning before homeroom

On some days his hands will slide around her hips and she’ll debate whether the risk of getting a detention is enough of a deterrent if it means she can also maybe just make out with Peter Parker right now now now.

She’s gotten 3 detentions so far. 

But sometimes he’ll just pop up next to her grinning and holding out a cup of tea that he picked up for her and she can actually feel her heart squeezing

She gets that familiar strained look on her face and graciously, Peter is not smug

But he’s not not smug, you know? 

They’ll make small talk about little things and big things until she’s done packing her books

Once she’s ready Peter hands her the tea, stepping just a little further into her personal space to kiss her cheek quickly and tell her he’ll see her at lunch

It’s the hand he presses at the small of her back as he leaves her that does her in

The touch is fleeting and gentle and it’s honestly completely innocent in motivation on Peter’s part but she thinks that might be why it gets to her

As soon as he’s gone, she fits a glare on anyone in the hall who’d been watching and dared to let her catch them.

One time, Flash even looked her in the eyes after. Her reputation simply will not survive this.

Peter sits next to her at lunch and holds her hand under the table too

She fights the urge to lay her head against his and snuggle against him like they do on movie nights because fuck she is so soft for him but she has some dignity

MJ does not feel bad however when she finds him outside the cafeteria though and drags him off to the library for the free period they share

They hole up in one of the study rooms and it’s #over when Peter hands her a pink highlighter as she’s fruitlessly looking through her own bag for one

(”I always pack an extra because you always forget yours”)

Fuck him, honestly.

She pulls Peter up by the hand and leads them away from the window in the door for some semblance of privacy

Peter looks like all his christmases have come at once when she leans up against him, trapping him to the wall.

“I-” she huffs unable to find the words to describe the warm fluffy feeling inside her. She figures pressing him into a slow kiss gets the point across pretty well

She pulls away when his hands start to grip at her hips.

MJ nuzzles into his neck, kissing there absentmindedly. Soft little pecks distract her as she allows the feeling of being in his arms to settle her. 

“God, I fucking hate you,” she groans in a whisper as Peter pulls her even closer dropping kisses to her hairline, her forehead, and against her brow

If anyone had overheard, the poorly suppressed grin on Peter’s face would be confusing, but he gets it. 

He gets her and how getting close to people and needing people and being okay with wanting to be treated delicately. To want be cared for. To allow herself to be cared for is hard for MJ

 But she wants it from him. Wants to be that for him. 

And Peter thinks that means he’s luckiest. 

As she pulls back to catch his eye, still shy in the big heavy feelings part of being with Peter, she basks in the smile Peter’s giving her.

His hands come up to tangle into her curls, eyes never wavering and she decides that she might be okay with being an actual ball of floof. 

For Peter, anyways. 

Only for Peter.  

She tells him as much and he laughs and kisses her again, “That’s okay you can totally be just be my floof.”

And when they’re making out on the Parker couch later than afternoon, MJ pretends not to notice that he’s changed her contact in his phone to “Michelle ‘MF’ Jones” with 2 cloud emojis.

He’s so corny, and she kisses him a little longer, a little needier than before after she sees it but doesn’t comment. 

She thinks he knows why anyways.

He definitely does. 

[iwantitiwriteit]

Slow Burn: Act I - Part 2

The Meet Cute - Part 2

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: You meet Chris Evans at a rooftop, industry party in New York, but will your awkwardness ruin the night?

Warnings: Profanity, Sexual connotations, fluff gone sour (?) Read on to know what I mean

Notes: Please check out the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Read the previous part here.

Although you had a few lightweight drinks, not wanting to get too turnt in front of strangers, you’re not really sure how you ended up here: In the middle of the dance floor, spinning, stepping and outright getting down with Chris motherfucking Evans.

It may have started with your light buzz, then a declaration of “that’s my song!!!” on your behalf, then Chris following you like a wide eyed puppy.

A mellower song plays. Yours and Chris’ energy comes down some, chemistry lingering. You simultaneously notice you’re holding hands and become all too aware of yourselves. Meaningless “ums” and “uhs” fill the air until you excuse yourself to the restroom, but not before you exchange shy smiles with Chris.

You freshen up in the mirror and take a moment to reflect on the night, on meeting Chris, with his tall, muscular frame, genuine smile, heart warming laugh, and blue eyes you could just drown in… Get a grip, SIS! You’re supposed to be meeting industry professionals, not fawning over snackable superheroes, no matter how charming. What time is it even…?

Pawing at your person for a sign of your phone, you realize you might have left it at the bar. Ugh, I hope no one took it. Who am I kidding? Rich people don’t steal phones… right?

You hurriedly rush out of the bathroom, but stop short at the sight of a boyish-looking Chris, hands tucked in his pockets. For the second time tonight, you both take a moment to take each other in. You don’t realize it, but you hold your breath as his eyes scan your hair, your eyes…her nose, her lips, her skin—

“You found it!”

“Huh?”

“My phone! Thank God! I don’t know what I’d do without it!” You say as you point to the black, sparkly device poking out of his pocket. It only became visible when Chris subconsciously went to rub his beard, under a trance at the sight of you. 

“Yeah, the bartender found it. I told her I’d give it to you.”

You go to retrieve it from his pocket, but stop short again, reminding yourself you shouldn’t be that handsy with him. He takes that as a cue, and returns the phone to its rightful owner.

You check the time. 1:39 am. Yeesh.

“I know, right?” It must’ve shown on your face. “I didn’t even notice half the party cleared out,” he says while looking at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You chuckle lightly as you take in your surroundings for the first time in God knows how many hours. Had I really lost track of time, giggling with him all night? Yes sis, you did.

Tens of people are scattered about, trash is being cleaned up, and some of the younger staff are taking advantage of the photo-op area. Meanwhile, Chris is rambling about something, cutely at that, but you don’t tune in until he asks, “Do you?”

“Do I…”

He chuckles and says, “Have a place to stay in Boston yet? I always wait until the last minute to find a place when I’m filming out of town.”

You cock your brow. “Are you offering?”

“Ha! No ma’am! I enjoy my bachelor’s pad how it is. Just me and my best boy, Dodger.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mmhmm, just a pair of dysfunctional, male codependents.”

“So, it’s a no girls allowed ordeal?”

“No, it’s just--”

“A different girl every night, and they’re on their merry way by morning?”

“No--”

“Oh, so--”

“WILL YOU LET ME TALK?! Jeez woman...” You both giggle at your antics and his feigned frustration. He rakes a hand through his hair before he begins again, but you attempt to cut him off one last time for fun. “Wow, ok!” He makes like he’s going to walk away, but you catch him by the wrist to keep him in place.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry!” You say between laughs and tugs on his arm. “Look, I’ll zip it,” Chris turns to you as you mime zipping and locking your lips. He puts his free hand out, not wanting to lose this physical contact with you, motioning for the imaginary key. You oblige. 

“Thank you, and for good measure...” he tucks the “key” in his pocket. You’re admiring the deep, rich tone of his voice when he gently places his hand over your mouth, his other hand still in your hold. Your brain is short-circuiting and your heart is skipping several beats.

“I was going to say,” wow, your eyes are just... wow.  “It’s more like a different girl every other night, gone by dawn.” 

You scoff and swat his hand away from your mouth, and now you both laugh at his antics. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he quickly reassures, as if you couldn’t tell it was a joke. 

“No, I just really value my space, ya know? Not that I don’t appreciate guests, because I really do! You should see me; I host a WICKED game night.”

“Oh, I bet.”

“I just have to be... never mind. That’s more than what you asked for.”

“No, no, what is it? You can tell me.”

“I guess, I just have to be… selective, about who I invite into my--”

“Game night?”

“You’re quite the smart ass, huh?” You smirk and shrug, but it’s true: you love to crack jokes-- good or bad, for better or for worse-- especially with people you’re comfortable with. We’re not that comfortable, though. We just met.

“I get it, though, truly. Especially in this line of work,” You pause for a moment, fiddling with your fingers before you ask, “Don’t you ever feel like you can’t tell someone’s intentions? Like, you can’t tell if someone wants to be around you for you or... for what they think they’ll get in return. It’s just easier to stay in your own, comfortable bubble sometimes. I don’t know…”

The way you asked made Chris think you were looking for some words of advice more than agreement. “Well, sussing out someone’s intentions is difficult, but gets easier with experience. And not just experience with dealing with a bunch of slimes balls, but experience in listening, trusting your gut when it talks to you.” He gives you a warm smile, and you give a half one back, the thoughts of your very recent past preventing your smile from being full, bright, the way Chris came to know it tonight. In that moment, he found himself missing it.

Sensing the heaviness, Chris changes the subject, “So, uh… have any plans after this?” 

“At damn near 2 am?”

”Clearly you’ve never hung out in New York because this is considered too early to go home. This city never sleeps, ya’know? ‘S how it got the nickname.”

“No, I didn’t know that! Thanks for the tip.”

“Yeah, yeah of course, anytime.” The sarcastic back-and-forth leave you two smiling and gazing in each other’s eyes. Why do we keep doing this?

You clear your throat, “But, uh, no… well yes. Heading back to the hotel to get some Z’s. Gonna be at iHeartRadio tomorrow for a show, and I have to be alert for it.” You serve an overexaggerated focus face, to which he laughs at.

“Well, you could always have coffee.”

“Mm-mm, nope, no coffee for me. I’m still hoping to grow a few more inches.”

He sizes you up, “I don’t know, I think you’re just about done sprouting, Kid.”

“What did I say about calling me that?”

He drops his head a little and pouts his lip like a sad puppy, “Only Mackie can call you that...”

“Right! Don't make me tell you again. There won’t be a third time. Just, a consequence I have not thought of yet.” He lightly laughs as you continue, “Anyways, it’s an acoustic set, and I need real energy, real focus, ‘cos I feel like mistakes are far more noticeable when it’s stripped back, and I gotta be all here for it,” you tap your temple.

He nods, “Not only a smart ass, but quite the critic, too? Dangerous combination.” You shrug again. What can you say? You’re particular when it comes to music. “An acoustic set though— should be awesome! Who’s playing?”

...uuuummmm…  You start and stop your reply a couple of times, before awkwardly laughing. Maybe he’s just messing with me… “It’s a secret,” you say with a wink.

“Hey! Kid, Captain Little Ass! I’ve been texting both of you! Come over here for a picture!” Mackie’s booming voice bursts your bubble, and the two of you make your way over. Scott, Ansel, Jaden, and a few other people who you probably should’ve met tonight are huddled in conversation. Mackie approaches you with his phone.

“You mind snapping a few pics of me and the boys? We’ll do a couple poses and then I wanna get you in there.” 

“Oh, it would be my utmost pleasure to snap some ‘pics’ of you and ‘the boys’.” 

While they sort out their poses, you make with unlocking Mackie’s phone. It opens to Mackie’s and Chris’ text chain, and what you see sinks your heart a little bit. Well, damn. 

“Hey Kid, we’re ready,” Chris says with a smirk that quickly dissipates when you unintentionally scowl at him, stewing in your thoughts. He thinks it’s because you really don’t like the nickname, but boy is he so wrong.

Anthony was insistent on getting you in a picture, no matter how many times you declined saying you weren’t “picture ready”, when really you were too annoyed to prolong this night any longer. He waved over one of the gawking busboys, no doubt in awe of being in the same room as Shmaptin Shmerica.

As you handed the busboy the phone, he whispered he was a “big fan”, Oh. Really?, and “couldn’t believe” he was meeting you. You thanked him with a kind smile and offered to get a picture with him afterwards, Chris watching the endearing interaction. I’ll have to ask her what she’s been in so I can watch it.

Chris watched you as you scanned the group for a good spot to fit in, then go in the opposite direction of where he stood. After a few snaps, Chris yells, “EVERYBODY: NEW SPOTS, NEW POSE!!” Everyone scurries around, but you being stubborn, stay put. He inevitably finds his way to you, but you ignore his presence.

A few more pictures are taken. Everyone’s smiling their Hollywood smiles, but then there’s you on the end, just mean mugging. On the last picture, Chris puts his arm around your shoulders. The nerve, the GALL, the cologne… no, NO! Get it together! When the photos are done, you quickly go over to the busboy and make good on your promise of a picture with him. You can feel Chris’ eyes on you.

After a couple of selfies, Chris offers to take a picture for you both. When your fan is satisfied with the picture and gets back to work, Chris comes over to resume conversation with you, but you’re too in your head to hear him. You just see his plump, pink lips moving. Damn him and his good looks, and perfect lips and—

“How’s that sound?”

“How’s what sound?”

“Coffee— in Boston.”

“I’m sure there is some, but I thought y’all were more known for your tea parties.” He laughs and your breath is arrested by the beautiful sound, deepening your conflicted feelings. He seems so genuine, but the texts…

“I meant, when we’re both back in Boston, going out for coffee— with me?”

If he would text that, what does he want so badly to see me again for? *gasp* He must think I’m a quick fu— “Why?”

He’s taken aback by your curtness. What does she mean ‘why’? I thought we had a good time tonight, and I want to see her again… “Because ‘here’s to good company’, remember?” He recounts your toast from earlier in the evening, raising his hand to mime a glass in the air for emphasis. He lets his hand fall awkwardly at the sight of your unamused face.

“Good company, huh? Even for a ‘airheaded wannabe’?”

What is she talk… It hits him like a ton of bricks. 

It’s you. YOU are the musician girl Mackie and Scott wanted him to meet. YOU are the one playing the set tomorrow, and that’s why you have fans wanting pictures with you. But most of all, YOU had seen his blind judgments of you. FuuuuUUUUUUcccckkk.

“Shit. Listen, I—“

“Have to call it a night and get some rest. Wouldn’t want hot air to be the only thing coming out of my mouth tomorrow. Good night, Chris.” With that, you quickly brush past him, and walk over to say goodbyes to your co-stars. You all share your excitement for starting filming next week, and they wish you well on your show tomorrow.

You make your way to the elevator, but not before you look back for Chris, who’s nowhere to be found. You hoped you’d see his face, and there’d be a look in his eyes that would tell you that tonight wasn’t a waste, that he was as genuine as you’d read him to be and that you’d only read those texts wrong. 

But those blue eyes weren’t around for you to drown in. You figured he went somewhere to be pissed about his efforts coming up fruitless. No different than the rest.

Part 3

[xxx-cat-xxx]

A little broken

Over a year after defeating Thanos and almost losing Tony, Peter is still haunted by the final battle. In an attempt to outrun the memories, he starts college far from New York.

It takes a visit from his mentor and an ill-timed flu bug that brings them both to their knees until Peter realises that he doesn’t have to take on the whole world alone.

Some Irondad hurt/comfort for everyone who’s quarantining at home (and those of you who have to work. Stay safe!) This is my @marveltrumpshate​ fic for Heyriel. Great thanks to @whumphoarder​ for doing so much more than beta reading. I hope you enjoy.

______________________________

The first time they meet, Peter isn’t sure what to make of Tony Stark. 

The man shows up unannounced to Peter’s apartment, chewing on May’s date loaf and walking around Peter’s room as if he owns the place—talking as if he owns the whole world. Peter is both awed and appalled, May’s occasional comments about greedy billionaires ringing in his ears. But then Peter starts talking about his motivation for doing what he does, and for a moment something in the older man’s face seems to break. That’s when Peter knows that there’s more to him than what makes the tabloids. 

Germany is both a thrilling adventure and an unparalleled disaster. Peter watches the group of heroes he’s looked up to since childhood break apart before his very eyes. The fight is grueling, taking more out of Peter than he knew was possible. He is lying there on the ground, trying to catch his breath, when Tony bends over him. And for a moment, there it is again: the broken facade on his face—below it, pure panic. The way Tony looks at him with thinly masked worry reminds him of Ben’s expression whenever Peter was little and having an asthma attack, and it does something to his insides that he can’t really explain. 

Then, a few months later, Peter inevitably screws up and slices a ferry in half. The two of them are standing high above the city when Tony takes his suit away, and Peter feels tears pricking at his eyes. He cries later in his room, alone, because it’s so much more than just the suit; he feels that by disappointing Tony he’s lost his chance at something so much bigger. 

It’s a miracle he manages to fix this one.

After Siberia, Tony is darker and quieter and indisputably older—like he’s finally grown up. Peter is sad for him, but it’s not all bad either. This new Tony starts taking more of an interest in Peter’s training—starts acting like a real mentor to him. There are afternoons spent together in the lab, dinners at the tower with Tony and Mr. Rhodes, and even the occasional low-stakes mission. Slowly, Tony’s world starts to feel like a place where Peter might one day belong.

But then, the universe gets ripped in two and somewhere on a red and war-torn planet, Peter clings to Tony in desperation, feeling first his body, then his thoughts slip away from him. 

When he wakes again, there’s another battle to fight, but this time there’s no thrill to it. It’s his personal horror film come true.

He can hear the moment when Tony’s heart stops. Peter cries openly this time.  

*

In the end, Tony makes it through. He loses an arm and much of his physical strength, but he’s stubborn as hell and fights his way through recovery. But somehow the day of the battle never fades from Peter’s brain like memories should. 

When he finishes school, May proposes NYU, Tony naturally wants MIT, but Peter chooses Culver University. It might be good for him to get out of New York, is what he says. It might be good for him not to be in a place that has Tony’s legacy lurking around every corner, is what he thinks. And maybe moving away will make things easier when he returns. 

Three months into Peter’s first semester at Culver, Tony accepts a guest speaking gig at the university and decides to stay at a nearby hotel to spend the weekend with Peter.

And that’s when it all goes to hell. 

*

“Hello? Earth to Peter.” Tony waves a hand in his face. “Who are you daydreaming about?”

“Huh?” Peter looks up at Tony, then down at his half-finished iced tea. “Nothing,” he evades. “Nobody, I mean. Sorry, I’m just—just tired. And I have a lot of work left this weekend.”

“Mh-hmm.” Tony looks as if he isn’t quite believing it. “You want more spring rolls?” 

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll wait for the main dish.” 

Peter hasn’t eaten much today, but he’s not quite hungry either. He’s nursing a headache and the tiredness is not just an excuse. As happy as Peter is to see his mentor, Tony’s timing in showing up the week before midterms really could’ve been better. Peter feels like he might fall asleep right here at the restaurant table, but he already knows that he’s going to have to stay up until late to finish his readings. 

“You’re doing it again,” Tony points out. “You’re being awfully quiet, kid. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing, seriously.” Peter manages to hold eye contact for a few seconds and then takes another sip of his iced tea. “So, you said we could fix the suit while you’re here?”

Tony takes the bait (or maybe just lets it drop intentionally) and the talk quickly turns technical. 

After a few minutes, they’re interrupted by the waitress—a student Peter thinks he recognises from his Python lab—who stares at Tony for a moment, her gaze lingering on the scars decorating his right cheek and ear before dropping down to his bionic arm. Then she catches herself and asks for their order.

When their food arrives, Peter observes Tony take out a box of different coloured pills and swallow a couple of them dry. 

“I know, not sexy,” Tony remarks, noticing his look, “but sort of necessary if I want to keep this baby ticking.” He taps his hand over his chest with a wan smile. 

Peter grins half-heartedly in return, even while he can feel his insides clench. The comment reminds him of the time Tony’s heart actually did stop, of the battlefield with the dust of Thanos’ army still hanging in the air, of the utter helplessness he felt when Tony snapped, of― 

“Uhm, excuse me?” It’s the waitress again, her voice shy, cheeks blushing. She extends a piece of paper toward Tony. “Could I, uhm, could you, maybe give me an autograph for my sister? She’s a big fan. I mean, we all are, of course, but she’s got her room decorated with posters of you and all that…”

Tony looks her up and down with a raised eyebrow and a smirk playing around his lips. “What’s your sister’s name?” he asks finally, making a show of producing an integrated pen from his bionic arm. The waitress is visibly impressed, and Peter resists the temptation to roll his eyes―it’s far from the first time he’s seen this trick. If Tony was famous before, it’s nothing compared to the status he earned since dusting Thanos and saving the universe. 

Tony gives the waitress an easy smile along with the paper he passes back, and then turns back to Peter with a smirk. “Fangirls,” he whispers. “Gotta love ‘em. Did I tell you about the kid who offered me all of his allowance for a hoofprint from Gerald?”

*

Because Tony is Tony, it takes a long time before he has caught Peter up on anecdotes of Morgan, Happy, and Gerald’s newest misadventures, and by the time Peter gets back home, it is already late evening. His studio apartment is small and rather old, with walls that have turned grey over time and windows that don’t fully close anymore, but it’s got its own kitchen and bathroom, which is much better than a dorm room―especially since Peter wouldn’t know how to explain the odd hours he keeps or the regular blood stains in the shower to any of his fellow students. 

Peter’s head has been throbbing painfully for the better part of an hour, and the lights from the screen when he pulls out his laptop don’t make it any better. All his body seems to want is sleep, but if he’s going to spend the next two days upgrading his suit with Tony’s help, he really needs to get these chemistry readings finished. 

He tries for several hours, but the words don’t seem to want to stick in his mind and it takes longer than expected until he feels that he has understood the chapter. Peter drops into bed around 3:30 in the morning, too tired to even change out of his jeans, and falls asleep immediately.

*

Peter is woken up by someone knocking on his apartment door to the beat of “We Will Rock You”, and it’s all he can do to stifle a groan. He drags himself out of bed and over to the door.

“Finally,” Tony sighs when Peter lets him in, shoving a reusable thermal to-go cup in the kid’s face and causing him to flinch backwards. “I thought I’d have to actually start singing.” Then he gives Peter a once-over and his face falls. “What happened to you?”

“I think I’m sick,” Peter replies, realising it is true the same moment the words leave his mouth. His head is hurting even more than the night before and his throat feels raw and painful, but the worst is the utter weakness in his body and the chills running down his back that tell him he has a fever. 

“What kind of sick?” Tony asks suspiciously. To Peter’s surprise, instead of turning on his heel and leaving the surely germ-infested apartment, Tony steps over the threshold and raises a hand to cup to Peter’s forehead.

“Dunno.” Peter shrugs. “Just feel like garbage. Flu was going around the school last week―it’s probably that.”

“Aw, kid,” Tony sighs, something like compassion in his voice. “Yeah, you feel really warm.” 

“Sorry about the suit,” Peter says, moving back to sit down on his bed heavily. “I guess you can just go back to New York early then.” 

“What? You think I’m coldhearted enough to leave my former intern alone on his deathbed somewhere in the Virginian wilderness?” 

“Culver’s not that bad,” Peter defends. “And I’m not alone either.”

“So that means you have someone here to take care of you?” Tony raises a sceptical eyebrow.

Peter hesitates. “I… May’s a nurse,” he evades. “I can call her.” 

Truth is, there actually isn’t anybody. He hasn’t really made friends yet―at least certainly not the kind he would consider asking to take care of him while he’s down with the flu. He calls May twice a week, skypes with Ned—and occasionally still with MJ—on the weekends, and he’s friendly enough with his classmates when they’re working together in classes. But his downtime is mostly spent studying on his own and patrolling the city at night.

“Yeah, no, that’s not happening.” Tony looks him over appraisingly, then seems to make a decision and presses the cup of hot chocolate into Peter’s hand. “Guess I’ll stick around for a bit. Here, drink that.” 

“I don’t really feel like it.” Peter is definitely queasy, bordering on nauseous, and the thought of drinking something as rich as hot chocolate almost makes his stomach turn. He shifts on the bed so that he can lean against the headboard, feeling too tired to hold his body up without support.

“Well, you need to have something. Super metabolism and all that.” Tony strides over to the small, definitely not tidy kitchenette and starts opening cupboards, most of which are empty. He comes up with a few packets of shrimp-flavoured instant noodles and a box of Coco Puffs. “Really, kid?”

“I was gonna get groceries today,” Peter says defensively. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna do that now,” Tony states. “What do you say to buttered noodles? That’s all Morgan ever wants when she’s sick.” 

“Yeah, that’s...that’s fine,” Peter says, dumbfounded at the idea of Tony Stark going to the supermarket and making pasta for him. 

“Good. Glad that you agree, since that’s about as far as my cooking skills go.” He zips up his jacket and grabs Peter’s keys from the table. “Don’t do anything stupid till I’m back.” With that, he’s out of the door. 

Peter doesn’t feel like he’d be able to do anything stupid even if he wanted to. He can’t remember the last time he felt this bad, and with his Spider-Manning lifestyle, that really says something. He’s thirsty, but his throat hurts in a way that doesn’t make him want to swallow anything. There’s an ugly taste in his mouth and he really wants to brush his teeth, but the bathroom could just as well be a hundred miles away. 

If May were here, she would have set him up on the sofa with Star Trek: TOS playing on the TV while changing his sheets and airing out the room, he thinks. And suddenly the homesickness hits him like a train. He misses May. He misses New York and his friends and even the busy schedule that high school provided him with, but mostly he misses coming home to an apartment that’s not empty, having someone to eat breakfast with in the mornings and share his day with in the evenings over burnt teriyaki chicken. Just the thought of May’s disastrous cooking skills almost brings tears to his eyes. 

He stays like this for an indefinite amount of time, feeling miserable and blinking back tears, until Tony eventually returns. He sets down the shopping bag on the table and closes his eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge between them with his fingers, the telltale sign that he has a headache. 

“You okay?” Peter asks hoarsely.

“Yeah. You live in a village, kid. Took forever to find a parking spot and then everyone and their mother wanted an autograph. Basically fought my way out of there. Might have to give my lawyer a heads up, actually.” 

Peter can’t even bring himself to force a laugh. A part of him wants to tell Tony to just go home already; the other part of him really, really doesn’t want to be alone right now. He sniffs hard and swallows to keep his nose from dripping.

“Hey,” Tony’s expression sobers as he sits down next to him on the mattress. “Did I miss something?”

“I just―” Peter rubs a sleeve over his watery eyes, feeling embarrassed. He thinks for an excuse and suddenly remembers the very real problems of college. “Ah, crap.” 

“Huh?” Tony asks.

“I have two tests next week,” Peter admits miserably. “I haven’t done anything for them yet―I was going to study this weekend in the evenings―”

“That’s fine, kid, we can deal with that. We saved the universe, remember? Schoolwork is nothing compared to Thanos, trust me.”

“I know,” Peter sniffs. Then, before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I‘m just missing home.” 

“Ah,” Tony says. He lays his bionic hand on Peter’s shoulder and rubs it. “Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter goes on, “I didn’t mean, I’m just―” 

“You’re just sick and tired and emotional,” Tony assesses, but there’s no judgement in his voice. “Come on.” He gestures for Peter to lie down and pulls the blanket up to his neck. “Go to sleep, kid.” His tone is almost soft. “I’ll be here.”

Peter falls into a feverish, exhausted sleep. He’s dimly aware of an icy cold gripping him and chills wracking his body, and then of Tony putting an extra blanket on him. At some point Tony offers food, but Peter’s too tired to even fully open his eyes. He mumbles something that he hopes Tony understands and turns over to the other side. 

The next time he fully surfaces, it’s from Tony gently shaking him awake. “Hey Pete, I know you’re tired, but you really need to eat something.” 

“Don’ wanna,” he mutters, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Peter. Come on, kid.” 

He blinks himself awake. The apartment is dark now; it must be evening already. The faint smell of food lingers in the air. “D’ I sleep all day?” he asks, confused. 

“Almost. You can still catch Saturday Night Live.” 

“Hmm.” Peter sits up slowly. He feels woozy and weak and his head is still hurting, which is ridiculous considering how long he slept for. 

“Just let me check your temperature.” Tony takes off his smartwatch and presses it against Peter’s neck, just under his chin. The cold metal sends shivers down his spine. 

“102.6,” Tony reports. “Yeah, that’s not great. A pity that fever reducers don’t work on you.” Tony’s voice sounds rough. Peter squints up at him just as the man turns his head into his shoulder to cough. He looks tired—really tired—and, as far as Peter can make out in the dim light of the bedside lamp, his face is kind of flushed. 

“Are you okay?” Peter croaks. 

“Uhm...” For a moment it looks like Tony wants to lie, but then he falters. “Not really. Guess I caught the same bug you did.”

“Shit,” Peter says. This sucks big time. 

“I already texted May—she’ll probably be up here tomorrow. As soon as you’d had something to eat and drink, I’ll go back to the hotel and get out of your hair. You don’t need an old sick man around.”

“What? No!” Peter blurts before he can stop himself. He feels his breath speeding up, horrified at both the idea of Tony leaving him here alone, and of Tony being on his own in some hotel room feeling as miserable as Peter does now. “Please don’t go.”

Tony looks taken aback. “Pete, I don’t think I’m going to be much help soon.” 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Peter feels himself blushing. “It’s nice not to be alone,” he admits in a small voice. 

Tony gives him a long look. “Okay, fine,” he agrees eventually. “But that means you have to listen to me. And the first rule is: eat your dinner, kid.”

They eat quietly. Tony is visibly making an effort not to let on just how bad he’s feeling, but Peter has learned to read the signs during his mentor’s long period of recovery from the snap. Tony is rubbing his shoulder whenever he thinks that Peter isn’t looking, which means that his prosthesis is hurting him. His shoulders are slumped, showing how tired he is, he’s nursing a headache, and then there is the fairly obvious sign of him hardly having eaten anything except for two spoons of pasta and his medication.

After dinner, Tony calls Pepper while Peter calls May. She gives him a run-down of the usual flu advice―“Stay hydrated, try and rest, and for god’s sake, don’t pile every blanket you own on yourself like that time you had strep, Peter—keep the curtains on the windows”—and promises to drive up tomorrow if she can get her shift covered. Then she asks to talk to Tony. Meanwhile, Peter uses the bathroom, brushes his teeth and changes into pyjamas. Observing himself in the mirror, he realises just how run-down he looks. He splashes some water on his face, which does nothing except make him shiver. 

“She asked whether you built that Lego ship she got you for your birthday,” Tony announces when Peter returns. 

“Oh.” Peter hasn’t, of course. He’s neither had the time nor the motivation to do so without Ned.

Tony makes a show of looking around the room. “This place is less personal than an airbnb. I told her there’s not even a poster on your wall.”

“So what?” Peter sighs. He feels the need to defend himself, but he’s too sick to come up with anything.  

Tony doesn’t press it, luckily. He borrows a pair of sweatpants, which end up being a bit short around his ankles and make it look like he’s outgrown them. It almost makes Peter smile. They pull out the sofa-sleeper that May insisted on him getting, but which he’s had no opportunity to use until now. When everything is set up, Peter is almost dizzy from being on his feet for so long. He’s both sweating and shivering and very glad to lie back down under the covers.

Tony turns on the TV, but neither of them is really paying attention. Peter is half asleep a few minutes into the news and Tony seems visibly uncomfortable, shifting around every few minutes on the couch. 

“Do you want to switch to the bed?” Peter asks him, secretly hoping for the answer to be no―he really doesn’t want to get up again. Tony shakes his head, lips pressed tightly together. Then he gets to his feet faster than Peter would have thought possible for someone in his condition and bolts to the bathroom. 

Peter hears nothing for a while. Then there’s a few weak coughs, followed by a retch and the sound of splashing. Peter cringes, his own stomach twisting in sympathy. The small size of the apartment and his enhanced hearing make it impossible to tune out the sounds as Tony continues to be sick into the toilet for the next ten minutes. When the retching tapers off, Peter shakily gets to his feet and fills a glass of water from the kitchenette. 

He knocks on the bathroom door, then leans heavily against the frame. “I got you some water,” he calls, hearing Tony’s ragged breathing inside. “Can I come in?”

“Just go to sleep, kid,” Tony croaks. 

“Yeah, sure,” Peter mumbles under his breath. After a few moments, he hears the sound of the flush and then the door opens. Tony is covered in sweat and looking about as bad as Peter feels, plus there’s a greenish tinge to his face. The smell of vomit wafts out and hits Peter’s nostrils, turning his own stomach. 

“Thanks, Pete,” Tony croaks says hoarsely and takes the water from his hand. His metal fingers feel cold against Peter’s burning skin when they brush the back of his hand. “Sorry you had to hear that.”

“‘S okay,” Peter mumbles. He suddenly has a hard time focusing on Tony. His head feels so heavy that he has to rest it against the doorframe as well. 

“Jeez, kid,” Tony comments. Then his face drains even more of colour and he presses his knuckles against his lips, swallowing thickly. “Go lie down, okay? I’ll be out in a bit.” With that, he turns and disappears back into the bathroom. 

For once, Peter listens to him, unsure whether he will be able to keep standing much longer anyway. After a moment of consideration, he curls up on the couch, leaving the softer bed for the older man. He drifts there for a while, trying to tune out the sounds of sickness coming from the bathroom. 

Eventually, he is dimly aware of someone entering the room and switching off the lights. There’s cold metal touching his neck as someone takes his temperature and tsks, then softly brushes back his hair and lays a cold washcloth on his forehead. It feels amazing against Peter’s burning skin.

“Thanks, May,” he mumbles.

*

Waking up feels like resurfacing after diving into a deep pool of water. Peter’s eyelids are sticky with sleep and his brain feels like it’s been through a potato masher. He’s disoriented, so it takes a bit until he realises that it was Tony’s voice that woke him. “Pete,” he hears him calling again weakly. Something about it shakes him out of his half-awake state. 

“Tony?” he asks, sitting up. There’s a rustling sound and a thump from the bathroom, confirming his worry. A quick glance at his phone on the bedside table tells him that it’s just after 4am. Definitely not the time to take a shower.

Peter’s head swims when he gets up from the couch. He takes a few unsteady steps towards the bathroom and then stops to lean against the wall until his vision clears and he can open the door.

Tony is on the ground next to the toilet, wrenched in between the bowl and the shower, looking about ten times worse than earlier. His face is almost grey except for the scars on his right cheek, which are flushed in an angry red. His dark eyes are glassy and deeply exhausted. Sweat sticks to his hair and t-shirt, the prosthesis off and one sleeve dangling empty. The smell of vomit hangs thickly in the air, much stronger than before.

Tony slowly lifts his head when Peter steps in. “Hey,” he croaks, attempting a smile and giving up somewhere halfway. “Sorry for waking you. ‘S just that I could use some help.”

“With what exactly?” 

“Getting up?” Tony asks sheepishly. “I tried and almost took down your shower curtain.”

Peter blinks. “Well, shit.”

“You said it, kid.” 

Peter extends a hand and Tony grabs it gratefully, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. Peter closes the toilet lid and Tony sits down on it with a heavy sigh. He shudders convulsively, then closes his eyes and swallows rapidly a few times, as if trying to stop himself from being sick again. 

“How long have you been in here?” Peter asks while checking Tony’s temperature on his smart watch. He finds it to be at a worrying 103.6.

“Uhm,” Tony makes a vague gesture with his hand. “Midnight, maybe? Kinda lost track of time.” Peter frowns. “Sorry for waking you up, kid,” Tony says again, taking his expression the wrong way. “That’s kind of why I didn’t want to stay.”

“You should have called me earlier.” Peter fills a glass of water from the tap. “And yeah, really reassuring to think of you spending the night on the bathroom floor of your hotel because you can’t get up on your own.”

Tony mumbles something that sounds a lot like, “Not like I haven’t done that before.” When Peter hands him the glass, the man’s hands are trembling so much that half of the water spills out onto his shirt. 

“Shit,” Tony mutters. “All my spares are at the hotel.” 

“I can give you one of mine,” Peter offers. 

“Yeah, that... that would be great,” Tony says earnestly. Peter wonders whether he’s maybe a bit delirious. “This shit didn’t use to happen before the snap, you know.”

“Don’t worry,” Peter says, surprised at the admission. He fetches a clean sweatshirt from the dresser and hands it to the older man. His mentor’s whole body is shaking violently with chills. While Tony changes, Peter notices that the scar pattern around his shoulder stump is an angry red. It looks painful, but Tony doesn’t seem to care too much. 

Something twists within Peter. It reminds him too much of the time just after the snap when he saw Tony in the hospital, weak with fever from the infected limb.

“Ready for bed?” Peter asks, shaking the thoughts from his head.

“Yeah,” Tony says, although he doesn’t look too sure. Peter pulls him upright and almost staggers under the man’s weight and his own weakness. Tony doesn’t comment, and when Peter turns towards him, he sees that he is biting his lips, eyes largely unfocused. 

“This really hit you hard, huh?” Peter asks when they have made it to the bed, sitting down next to Tony. His mentor is bending forward, head in his hands, panting and shaking like he just finished a mission in the suit. That’s not the only thing, though. With his advanced hearing, Peter can pick up Tony’s heartbeat, which is slightly arrhythmic. 

“Tony?” he asks suspiciously. “What’s wrong with your heart?”

“Yeah, about that…” The other man raises his head, but avoids Peter’s gaze.

“What?” Peter can feel his own heart rate speeding up in worry.

“I, uh...remember my heart medication?” Tony says casually. “I threw up the last dose. It’s not dangerous, don’t worry,” he adds when Peter stares at him, alarmed, “Or, well, at least not yet. Just sort of increases the nausea and dizziness.”

“Can’t you take another dose?” he asks. 

“I don’t think I can keep anything down right now,” Tony admits. “But I’ll try in the morning.”

“Hmm.” This doesn’t really do anything to make Peter feel better. 

“Don’ worry, kid” Tony adds with a tired slur to his words, which only achieves the opposite. With a lot of effort, he pulls his legs up to the bed and then lies down under the blankets. “Let’s both sleep for a bit and things will look brighter in the morning.”

Peter gets himself a glass of water and then curls back up on the couch. He hears Tony’s breaths turn heavy and even out before long, but although he feels exhausted, he has a hard time going back to sleep. The sofa feels like rocks under his achy body, and he keeps turning around, unable to find a comfortable position. His head doesn’t fare any better. With his brain cloudy from fever, it’s even harder than usual to stave off the memories from the battlefield. 

His eyes finally fall shut and back he goes, right into the middle of dust and blood and death looming around every corner. He knows that there should be screams and shouts everywhere, but it’s silent, dead silent, except for the underlying thump-thump-thump of Tony’s heartbeat, becoming ever quieter. 

Peter rounds a heap of rubble and almost stumbles over Tony, who is lying on the ground, half his body eaten away by the radiation. The beating gets weaker even as Peter falls onto his knees and tears stream down his cheeks. He’s been here a hundred times, unable to save the man who saved him, and he knows exactly how this is going to end. 

A beat, almost indiscernible. A breath leaves Tony’s lips for the last time. 

Silence. 

*

He wakes to the feeling that everything in the world that possibly could be wrong, is wrong. His whole body is hot and he feels nauseous, almost as if he will throw up. Sick, he remembers. He’s sick. Tony’s― 

Peter forces himself to take a deep breath that comes out more like a choked sob. He sits up dizzily, and is surprised by the light streaming through the windows. His eyes immediately wander to Tony’s still form on the bed, covered by blankets. Peter can make out his slightly ragged breathing, but he’s way past the point where he would feel calmed by this. 

Unsteadily, he makes his way over to the bed and sits down on the floor next to it, shivering uncontrollably from the coldness of the tile, but not wanting to wake Tony up. He tries to calm himself, but his heart won’t stop racing. Everything feels kind of surreal and he can’t shake the image of Tony’s body on the ground, so still and lifeless. There are tears burning in his eyes. He shoves his knuckles in his mouth to keep himself from sobbing loudly. 

“Kid?” Tony’s groggy voice asks. “What ‘appened?”

“S-Sorry,” Peter manages. “G-Go back to sleep.”

“Hey.” Tony rubs his eyes and tries to push himself up, only partially succeeding. Looking at Peter, his face takes on an alarmed expression. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Peter whispers, feeling infinitely stupid. “J-Just had a nightmare.” He bites his lip, but with the admission, a dam seems to break. He can feel his eyes overflowing. 

“Hey, kid, hey,” Tony says softly. “It’s alright.”

Peter just shakes his head, tears dripping down his cheeks onto the floor. Tony extends a trembling hand to wipe them away. “Do these nightmares happen often?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” Peter evades. He wonders why he doesn’t just tell the truth. That there’s rarely a night when he doesn’t go back to the battle against Thanos, or the dust on Titan, or even the Vulture in flames―an enemy that seems ridiculous now compared to the ones they’ve fought since, but sometimes still makes it into Peter’s dreams. 

“It’s gotten worse again, hasn’t it?” Tony asks. “Since you moved here.” His hand drops down to Peter’s shoulder and squeezes it lightly. 

“‘S okay,” he lies. “I’m fine. Jus’... just the fever.”

“Mmh-hmm, sure. Come here.” Tony nods his head towards himself, weakly lifting an arm, and Peter lets himself get pulled into the hug. “Woah, kid. You’re on fire.” 

“Hmm,” Peter mumbles. “You too.” 

It’s true; Tony’s body feels even hotter than his. The sweatshirt Peter had given him is already damp with sweat. And, most concerningly, his heart is still beating out of rhythm. It reminds Peter way too much of his dream for him to ignore it. 

“You need to have some water,” Tony says, ignorant to Peter’s thoughts. “And eat something. It’s been a while.”

Peter’s queasiness increases at the thought. “Stomach’s not feeling great,” he admits. “How are you doing?” he asks then, into the older man’s chest. “And don’t lie.” 

He feels Tony grimacing. “Like a clock someone forgot to wind up.” His remaining arm lets go of Peter as he brings it to his chest to massage the area around his heart. “But hey, don’t worry. I’m gonna try my pills and some water and then I’ll be back on my bullshit before you know it.” 

But he isn’t. Half an hour later, Peter has to support Tony to the toilet to once again throw up the medication and the few sips of water he’s just managed to get down. He stops trying to reassure Peter after the second bout of painful dry heaves wrack his body and doesn’t even resist when Peter wipes down his grey face with a wet cloth. On their way back, halfway across the bedroom, they almost lose balance when Tony’s legs suddenly give out. Peter just manages to stabilise him before they can faceplant all the way. 

“That’s it. You need to go to the ER,” Peter decides after all-but carrying Tony back to the bed and sitting him down. Peter’s own body feels heavy with exhaustion. Tony weakly shakes his head and opens his mouth to object. “Please, Tony.”

There must have been something in his voice that gave away his desperation because Tony shuts up mid-inhale. He gives Peter a deep look and then nods shakily. ”But only if you eat something first.”

“Okay.” He checks Tony’s temperature, which has climbed even higher, to 103.8. Peter’s own is hardly any better at 103.2, but at least he can still stand―kind of, he realises when he has to sit down to be able to concentrate on his phone screen long enough to call a cab. 

The walk to the kitchen feels like it’s a mile long. Peter surveys the meagre food choices and decides that cold pasta with salt looks like the best option. After the first few bites, his queasiness abides a bit and he manages to finish his small plate, suddenly realising how hungry he was. He drinks two glasses of water with it and finally feels a little less lightheaded. Then he goes to the bathroom and, on a whim, swallows a small handful of painkillers from the bottle of Advil Tony has sitting beside his pill box. They will hardly do anything for him, but hopefully they’ll keep him upright until they reach the hospital.

When Peter comes back, he expects Tony to be lying where he left him and is already wondering how he’s going to maneuver him down the stairs from the second floor with the man's balance shot and his own legs feeling like noodles. But Tony is sitting up and in the process of putting on his shoes. His determination, however, falters a bit when it comes to actually standing up. 

“Just go slow,” Peter directs, supporting Tony to the door and taking on most of the man’s weight. “One step at a time.”

They make it down the first staircase before Tony holds up a hand. “Just need a minute,” he exhales, sitting down with a sigh and leaning against the wall, his eyelids fluttering shut. His breathing is ragged. Peter looks at him worriedly, the unsteady thump of the man’s heartbeat loud in his ears. Tony, as if feeling the gaze, opens one eye to squint at him. “Not dead yet, kid. Come on, let’s get downstairs.” 

Maybe it’s the fact that the painkillers are wearing off faster than expected or that Peter’s anxiety is finally getting the better of him, but the cab ride is kind of a blur. He just remembers Tony sitting with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, looking deathly exhausted, and at some point grabbing the older man’s hand and holding on. 

Peter only lets go of it when he has to fill in the forms once they reach the hospital. The ER nurse takes one look at Tony’s scarred face and missing arm and then directs them to a private room. Peter’s hand is shaking so hard that Tony’s name on the form looks like a child’s scrawl. Behind him, his mentor is already being connected to a heart monitor, while another nurse is bringing an IV stand.

He hands the form to the elderly nurse and then has to steady himself against the wall when he stumbles a bit. 

Her brow furrows. “Are you alright?” she asks. 

“Y-Yes,” Peter answers quickly. 

“Bullshit. He’s got the flu too,” Tony mutters from the bed behind them. 

“I’m fine,” Peter insists, feeling his heart rate spike. They’ve done a great deal to keep his secret identity, well, secret while he’s at Culver, and he’s not about to let his powers be discovered just because of a flu bug. “Really, I’m okay. Not a big deal.”

“Honey, you can’t be here as a visitor if you’re sick,” the nurse says, her tone kind, but firm. “You’ll risk infecting the other patients.”

Peter looks up, taking a moment to understand the implications. “What? No, please don’t make me go!” 

The nurse eyes him critically, then sighs and relents. “If you’re going to stay, you’ll have to be inside this room at all times. I can’t have you walking around spreading germs.”

“That’s okay,” Peter agrees immediately. It’s not like he was planning to walk the halls anyway; his legs feel like they might go on strike any moment. When the nurse turns around to start working on Tony, Peter wobbles over to an uncomfortable chair in the corner and collapses into it.

He feels like the next time he takes an actual breath is once Tony is hooked up to painkillers, antiemetics, and something for his heart, the fluids dripping steadily into his arm through an IV and the heart monitor finally—finally—reverts back to a steady rhythm of beeps. Tony isn’t conscious anymore to notice; after spending the better part of the last 24 hours on Peter’s bathroom floor, his exhaustion has finally gotten the upper hand. He drifts off as soon as the meds start kicking in. 

Once the nurses leave, Peter drags his chair over next to the bed. Tony looks—there is no other way to describe it—frail. Like he might fall apart any minute if Peter stops watching. His fever is still much too high at 103.3 and he is sleeping fitfully, as if the dreams are haunting him as well. Peter can still see images from the nightmare in his mind. Not clear, but looming, like he might find himself on the battlefield any time he turns around. 

He doesn’t want to fall asleep, but he’s dead tired. Now with the adrenaline fading, it feels like his body weighs a thousand pounds. He suddenly doesn’t even feel able to keep his head up, and instead lets himself slump forward, crossing his arms and resting his head on top. His cold hands are a sharp contrast to his burning face. 

His mind feels oddly detached from his body, like he’s floating, and he has no idea how much time has passed when suddenly the nurse shakes him awake from where he’s slidden down onto the edge of Tony’s mattress. “Can you just move for a second, hon?” she asks gently. “I need to hook up some more fluids."

"Oh yeah, sure, of course..." Peter nods groggily and goes to stand up a little too quickly. The moment he is on his feet, he can practically feel the blood rushing away from his head, and a wave of darkness rolls over him. Peter grabs for something to hold on to but comes up empty. He feels himself sway into the nurse, who grabs his shoulders and just about manages to keep him from face planting on the hospital floor.

“You’re really warm, dear,” she observes after helping him sit back down on the chair. "You really can't be here if you're not a patient. Let me call someone to get you a bed."

“But I—” Peter feels panic swelling in his chest. He doesn’t want to leave Tony alone, especially when he can’t be sure that the man’s heart won’t stop again, but he can’t let anyone find out about Spider-Man either―

"Peter, it's fine,” he hears a thin voice. Tony, just woken up, is shifting wearily under the blanket, turning his head towards them. “They'll sign NDAs and no one will know. Just do what she says and get in the bed, alright?"

So Peter does. The nurse calls her colleague, who sets up a bed next to Tony’s and takes Peter’s vitals. After Peter groggily explains that fever reducers won’t do anything to bring down his 103.5 degree temperature, the nurse hooks him up to fluids to counteract the dehydration.

The world goes blurry again and he is half asleep when he sees Tony slip something into the elderly nurse’s hand on her way out the door.  

When she’s gone, Peter gives Tony a confused look. “You bribed her to let me stay in the room?” 

“What are you talking about?” Tony scoffs lightly. “I just asked nicely and told her you took part in saving the world―that was more than enough.” He shrugs a bit. “And I might’ve signed an autograph for her son.” 

Peter would have rolled his eyes if his head wasn’t hurting so much. “Still a bribe,” he mumbles.

“Go to sleep, kid,” Tony says warmly.

He closes his eyes but then opens them again to see Tony watching him. “You’ll be okay, right?” Peter asks. 

“Of course,” Tony replies. “I’m always okay.”

*

When Peter wakes up again in the early evening, it’s to May lightly stroking his curls out of his face. A tension he didn’t even know he was holding seems to fall off his shoulders.

“Hey, baby,” she says softly when he hugs her. “Rough weekend, huh?” 

It is decided that neither of them has to spend the night at the hospital―Tony has to fight to be discharged, but they eventually let him go after making him promise to rest, take his medicine, and tell May if his heart acts up again. In turn, Tony collects each of the staff members’ contact details to have his lawyers send NDAs later. 

The drive back to the flat is quiet. Tony attempts small talk for the first five minutes, but is still too out of it from the combined force of illness and drugs, and quickly gives up again. Peter is just relieved that May is there. 

Once they’re home, May makes both of them eat some toast and then ushers them off to bed. Peter feels like he hasn’t slept since he moved to Virginia, and maybe that’s true in a way. But now with Tony and May both there, he finally feels like it’s safe to let himself go. 

*

He wakes up to May opening the windows to let in the chilly morning air.

“C’n I have some water?” he mumbles. 

May hands him the glass. “Your fever has come down a bit overnight. Feeling any better?” she asks. 

“Hmm.” He’s still weary and headachey, but the chills are gone and the world seems much less frightening now. “How’s Tony?” he asks.

“Still asleep. We talked a little last night—he didn’t get much rest, I’m afraid. But you should wake him up and tell him it’s time for food and medicine.”

Peter sits up and is rewarded with a lack of dizziness. He goes to the toilet and washes his face before trudging over to the bed and sitting down carefully on the mattress next to his mentor’s sleeping form. Tony’s eyes are moving rapidly behind his closed eyelids as if he’s in the middle of a dream. His hair is a greasy mess, the scars as red and angry as before and his cheeks still flushed with fever, but the rest of his face isn’t as pale as it was the previous day, and, when he listens carefully, Peter can make out his regular heartbeat.

“Tony?” Peter whispers, gently touching his flesh shoulder. 

Tony grunts and rolls himself over. “Pep?” he asks in a muffled voice. 

“Not exactly.” Tony blinks awake and squints up at Peter. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh…I want my hospital drugs back,” Tony half-jokes. “But not on the verge of cardiac failure anymore, so that’s a plus.”

“Hmm.” Peter reaches for his hand to check the smart watch. “Your temperature’s down.” Tony’s is at 101.5, whereas Peter’s is at 100.7. Tony gives first the numbers and then Peter a critical once-over before closing his eyes again. 

“Don’t go back to sleep,” Peter warns. “May said you need to take your medicine and eat something.”

Tony groans audibly. “Nurses never let you have any fun...” 

*

The first time they met, Peter wasn’t sure what to make of Tony Stark. 

Times have changed, Peter thinks, as he surveys the scene in his apartment. 

After a painfully slow shuffle to the bathroom and back, Tony decides that he doesn’t feel up to walking around just yet, so they all eat breakfast in bed, assembled on various pillows and blankets, while Star Trek plays on the TV in the background. With his appetite returning and worries temporarily lifted, Peter devours two pieces of toast with chocolate spread and a glass of orange juice while Tony sticks to saltines, tea, and the pills he swallows under May’s watchful eye. 

When they’re done, May announces that she’s heading out for groceries. “No crime-fighting until I’m back,” she orders with a smile. “And I want each of you to finish the water bottles on the table.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Tony salutes sarcastically. The moment May shuts the door, he sets down his half-finished cup of tea and slumps visibly into his pillows. 

“You alright?” Peter asks immediately. 

“Jeez, kid, you’re worse than Morgan,” Tony comments, not without affection. “I know last night was scary for you, but honestly, this is not even in my top 20 for life-threatening events I’ve experienced in the last few decades.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Peter retorts. “Because it really doesn’t.”

He must have come across less playful than intended, because Tony’s expression sobers. He regards Peter with the deep look that always gives him the feeling of being x-rayed. 

“I know,” Tony says. “But that’s kind of the point. I’ve been through so much shit in my life that I know pretty much exactly how you feel.” 

He drags himself a bit more upright and lays a warm hand on Peter’s forearm. “I know how it is when your thoughts circle back to the same moment over and over again and the nightmares won’t let you rest. I know how easy it is to isolate yourself because the memories are eating you up and you feel like nobody can help you.”

He pauses for a moment and rubs a hand over his forehead. Peter remembers the darkness on Tony’s face the first time they met and wonders whether that’s what Tony sees on his now. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” Tony continues, “you don’t have to pretend to be fine if you’re not. At least not in front of me or May.” 

The irony of it almost makes Peter smile, despite the lump forming in his throat. Tony just spent the last 36 hours trying to downplay the pain he was in. “You are one to talk,” he remarks.

Tony chuckles quietly. “Still learning, kid.” He picks up his tea cup and takes another sip before continuing in a softer voice. “Just trust me, it‘s okay to be a little broken, even when you’re not sick. And you don’t have to hide it. I know what loneliness looks like. I’ve been through all of it and it took me years to understand that the only thing that can help is to let other people in―the right kind of people.”

The thoughts are running a marathon in Peter’s head and he’s dimly aware that he’s trembling. He swallows hard before speaking. “It’s just… sometimes I don’t even want to remember. It’s just so hard to start talking. About”―he takes a deep breath―“the battle. And the dreams. And everything else.”

“Yeah, it is. I never said it would be easy.” Tony seems to hesitate for a moment, but then he pulls Peter toward him one-handedly so that they can lie side by side. He covers both of them with his blanket. Peter turns his head into Tony’s shoulder and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths. “And we don’t have to start today. But I’ll be there whenever you’re ready.”

________________

If you liked this, you might also enjoy my other post-Endgame fic (in which Tony is obviously still alive): What We Lose in the Fire We Gain in the Flood

All my fics

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