#IT'S THURSDAY THAT MEANS NEW ALWAYS SUNNY LETS GO

[ratkiing-a]

are u guys ready for me to be full feral tomorrow before work ??

[rafecameronsslxt]

Hooked

Warnings: Smut? (Barely a paragraph), Toxic (Always), complete angst.

Synopsis: Adriana learns she's pregnant with Rafe's child. Rafe traumatizes Adriana even further, destroying the once almost perfect life they had. Adriana picks Rafe over her friends. Topper and her kiss, leaving secrets to be hidden and uncovered later.

Rafe Cameron x OC

Part FIVE of series. (Can be read as stand alone)

Part ONE- Part TWO- Part THREE- Part FOUR- Part SIX- Part SEVEN

Masterlist

A/N: Season three coming out on Thursday AND a season FOUR is coming!!! Drew Starkey IS ALMOST 30 girl he looks early 20s!?

Words: 4,536

I spent an hour rehearsing what I’d be saying to Wheezie. She was the only person I could trust not to tell anyone this information. “Wheezie, hi- No. Wheezie, your brother– ugh, Wheezie, I trust you a lot.” Instead of repeating her name a million times to myself, I call her and tell Wheezie to meet me at the park in our neighborhood, but make myself clear for her to walk. 

   Today was sunny, hot, and nerve-racking. At this point, I’d fixed Rafe’s hat on my head about a million times, waiting on Wheezie. The wind barely blows while I stare blankly at the palm trees. They were moving, but it was faint, like they were deciding whether to go with the flow or defy it, or I shouldn’t be using palm trees as an analogy. 

   “Hey, loser. You sounded urgent and scared me.” Wheezie says, out of breath with her hands on her knees. I look over to the swing next to me. She sits down. “Wheezie I’mpregnantandtooscaredtotellanyoneandyoucan’t tell anyone either, not even Sarah.” Although the words coming out of me sounded more gibberish than actual English, her jaw dropped, and she stood up from the swing. “WOW, play back what you just said because I don’t know if I HEARD right.” She puts her hands to her face in astonishment.

   “I’m pregnant with Rafe’s child.” She started jumping around, laughing, and I wished that was me when I’d found out. “That’s amazing, Adriana! I’ll be a step-aunt!” Wheezie seems genuinely happy and proud of me. She takes my hands, let's go and squeals. By the time Wheezie is done freaking out, I’m smiling ear to ear at her silliness. “Wait, since this is a top-secret thing, I can come with you to those baby ultrasounds, so you're not alone.” She sits down on the swing, grinning. 

   I forgot to mention it’s been three weeks since that night with Rafe and me. He hasn’t gotten better. Actually, he owes his drug dealer money but spends it on a new bike like an idiot. Rafe isn’t ready for a child, and neither am I. We’re nineteen, just out of high school a year ago. 

   Wheezie turns her head to me. “Why are you sad? This is the best thing ever. I mean, A BABY. Rafe Cameron's baby! Top news article; Kook gets knocked up by high school sweetheart, kook prince, and psychopath Rafe Cameron. BOOM.” She makes an explosion with her hands. I glance at her with intense sorrow at her insensitive comment. Wheezie throws her hands into the air, surrendering and mumbles, sorry. 

   We start walking to her house. She holds my hand, giving me as much comfort as a thirteen-year-old can. Wheezie had been such a precious child; I know she means a lot to Sarah. 

   I wave to Wheez as she walks inside, a smile engraved on her face. I turned my back and was about to leave when I heard Rafe call out my name. 

   He’s slouched against his bike, looking down at his wrist and cursing. “What happened!?” I get on my knees, taking his forearm into my hand. His wrist is burnt and red. My eyes widen at the look of it. “Rafe, come on. Baby, get up.” I force him to put his arm around my shoulder, and we get up together and walk inside the house to his bathroom.

   I look through the cabinets and find antiseptic; locating a rag might’ve been for the better, but I poured the alcohol on his wrist. Rafe throws his head back, and tears of pain fall down his cheeks. Then I find gauze, wrapping the white cotton around his reddened wrist. My hands go to his face wiping away his tears. 

   My hands run under Rafe’s shirt, feeling his abs. I could think of a million ways to alleviate his pain. 

   Something I’ve realized about being pregnant is my sex drive has been off the rails this week. “Not today, baby. I have to talk to my dad about something.” Rafe removes my wandering hands and pulls me up from my knees. “I hope things go ok.” I give Rafe an open-mouthed kiss. 

   Not much more happened. I walked home, fell asleep, and woke up to my phone ringing. 

   “Hello?” I answered groggily while rubbing my eyes. “We're locking Sarah and Kie on the boat together. You should come, loser.” John B laughs over the phone to me. I start smiling. “Kie is killing you guys and Sarah all in one day. I’m sure of it, but I can’t come. Sorry JB.” I laugh while walking downstairs to the kitchen, skimming the fridge to see if anything entices me. “I’ll give you the details later then. Love you, Ad.” Then Pope and JJ chime in, saying their goodbyes and I love you’s. “Ok, ok, I love you guys too.” I shut the fridge, not finding anything suitable to my cravings.

   A soft knock comes from the front door. I open the door finding Rafe with tears in his gorgeous blue eyes. He leans down and hugs me. I don’t question it and snake my arms around his back. Rafe’s tears start wetting my shirt.

   We stay like this, in the middle of the doorway, hugging each other. 

   “Do you want to talk about it?” I softly ask while my hand is on his cheek and my thumb brushes against his smooth skin. Rafe doesn’t say anything. Instead, he looks up at the bland ceiling, his arms lying on his stomach. One of my legs is laid over his, and I stare at the side of his face. 

   Rafe’s head turns toward mine. A blank stare. His eyes are unreadable because they're everywhere but here. Rafe’s eyes bore into mine. “Imagine if we had a child right now. We’d be so fucked.” He laughs humorlessly. My breathing stops. The oxygen in my lungs dissipates but returns relatively quickly. 

   I nod slowly, Inhaling and exhaling deeply. 

   “If we had a child, what would you name them.” Rafe placed his hand on my thigh. My heart is beating too fast like it’ll burst out of my chest. “Uh, for a girl, I’d name her Lilith and a boy for sure, Renner.” I’d thought about baby names so much that I didn’t need time to ponder. “Mhm, those are pretty.” He mumbles.

   His fingers trail over my shorts. I grab Rafe’s hand and move it away from me. I started to become weird about him getting close to my stomach because a bump had begun to form, and I wasn’t sure if he’d feel that my stomach was hard or more solid. 

   Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Just let me,” I say slowly. This whole week he’s been trying to touch me, but I pushed him away every time, and I’ve probably given him a record of blowjobs this week, so he’ll shut up. 

   I throw my legs on either side of Rafe’s hips sitting directly on his crotch. I bend down and kiss him. It wasn’t chaste. It had been lustful and needed. I began to roll my hips onto Rafe feeling his dick push into me through his shorts. Since I was home alone, all I had on was an oversized long-sleeve that went down to my knees and silk lace panties, and as much as I wanted to feel him, my nerves got the best of me, defying my body.

   I slide my lips to Rafe’s neck, sucking on his skin until it turns a reddish-purple. My body glides down his. I take his shorts and underwear off, all in one swift movement. 

   Adriana wraps her hands around Rafe’s erect dick. She looked up at him, her forest-green eyes searing into his sea-colored ones. Adriana wrapped her plump lips around his tip, running her tongue roughly over him and then spitting onto Rafe’s cock.

   Her hand surrounds him again, moving up and down. 

   Rafe couldn’t understand why she was pushing him away, both physically and mentally. He felt they’d become two different people, and he needed her. She was his world, and without Adriana, his world would be in pieces. 

   When I go to suck him, Rafe pushes his body up against the headboard. I sit on my knees and give him a questioning face. “I- I can’t do this, baby.” Rafe gets up, putting his boxers and shorts on. My eyes start watering. “I’m not leaving. I think we should just talk, ok, baby.” He says calmly, reassuring my doubts. 

   Rafe and me lay down again, looking at each other. His arm was resting on my lower back and hip. “So, I lied. I was stealing my dad's money and got caught, and shit happened.” I run my hand through Rafe’s dishevelled hair. He waits for me to tell him what’s wrong with me and to get mad at him for trying to steal Ward's money, but I don’t do either.

   “Rafe, I’m not mad. I just want you to hold me and tell me that things will be ok with us after tomorrow.” My voice starts breaking like chemicals that leak into the sea. I turn around and push my body so close to his that there isn’t any room left. Rafe puts his hurt wrist around my waist and doesn’t seem to notice anything about my stomach. Which I was worrying about for so long. 

   He kisses my shoulder gently. “It’s going to be ok, baby.” Rafe’s soft voice says, comforting me. It wasn’t going to be ok because the pogues were filling me in about what’s been happening and their plan. Which is great, but I’m afraid. I am so fucking terrified.

   I hear Rafe’s voice soothing me like a lullaby until I’m deep asleep.

   The room is dark when I open my eyes. The sun barely shone through the closed curtains leaving streaks in my pitch-black room. My hands move around, finding nothing other than crumpled sheets.

   I throw my comforter off me and turn my light on. The room is vacant of, Rafe. I check my phone. It’s two in the afternoon! I hate sleeping in for too long. I run to my closet, throwing out clothes to wear on my bed. 

   One of Rafe’s striped grey and white button-ups that I tuck into high-waisted white shorts with a brown belt. My phone starts ringing; it's John B. “Hey, listen, me and the pogues are going to stop Ward from taking off with the gold.” John B sounds out of breath. “Ok, be careful. Seriously JB. I love you.” We say our goodbyes to each other, feeling like it’ll be my last time. 

   I walk into my bathroom and put my hands on the counter, feeling a substance on my palms. The marbled counter has a perfect line of excess white powder. It coats my hand; I run the water and wash the cocaine down the drain, wiping the rest into the sink. 

   My phone starts ringing for the second time. “Hey, baby. You’re coming with me to visit Ward and Sarah since they’ve decided to go to the Bahamas today.” My face drops at Rafe’s demand.  

   He wasn’t asking. He was telling me I’d be going with him. “I’ll be at your house in a minute. Just wait outside.” His voice isn’t his, and he hangs up. 

   While walking as slowly as possible down the stairs, I call John B over and over. He doesn’t answer, and Rafe’s truck pulls up. No, no, this can’t be happening. 

   On the ride there, we don’t talk to each other. 

   The only thing being heard was Rafe’s light breaths, cars passing by too quickly, or Rafe had been driving fast. “Rafe, can you please slow down.” He keeps his eyes on the road, maintaining the truck at a steady rapid pace. I place my hand on his thigh, feeling a little more secure, but I know I’m not. Rafe doesn’t acknowledge my hand or how it’s squeezing his thigh tightly.

   I tried stopping him. I really did.

Then, a shot rings throughout my ears loudly, I’m listening, but things aren’t going through, properly. It’s white noise running through my body. Sarah looks at me, crying and just as traumatized as myself, but the difference is my body is next to Rafe’s. His murderous hands, while Rafe stands there looking down at John B, trying to help Sheriff Peterkin.

   John B starts talking to the walkie talkie asking for help, and Rafe doesn’t take it lightly, hovering the gun close to John B’s head. The next thing I know, John B starts running, and Rafe begins to shoot, and the three of us get him to stop. 

   My head turns to Rafe, a vacant expression with feelings racing throughout my veins. “Rafe, wha- what did you just do?” My voice is shaky, and so are my hands. My whole body feels like it might fall to the ground at any moment. Rafe’s hands go to my face, and the gun presses against the side of my hair. My hands push his off. I walk back wobbly and unbalanced. 

   “Take Sarah and Adriana to the house. Take them home!” Ward yells at him. Rafe grabs Sarah’s arms, and she fights back, trying to get away from her brother. Her brother that caused death and destruction to the lives we once knew. 

   His red hands grabbed my clean ones, dragging me along with Sarah. I didn’t fight back. I walked and sat in Rafe’s truck lifelessly, but I was carrying a human in my stomach. Would this trauma affect the baby? What if I die while having this baby of a murder? 

   Sarah, the girl I’ve known since fourth grade and told everything to, will never trust me again. JJ a boy who was like my brother and probably wouldn’t understand. Pope was someone I could go to for comfort. John B protected me throughout many things in my life. Kiara, Kie, my girl, she would especially hate me for not being the first person to know I was pregnant. 

   Rafe’s sea eyes glance into the rearview mirror at me while he and Sarah argue. When he does, I’m biting my nails, looking at the trees we pass by quickly. Things- life doesn’t feel expectant. I can’t wrap my head around this situation. 

   My Rafe. Rafe Cameron is unhinged but never a murderer. The guy I’ve known since fifth grade killed someone in cold blood and then told himself he was doing it for the greater good. This is not my boyfriend, the man who kissed my lips and said I love you. We planned our lives together. 

   Tears fall silently. I bite my tongue to keep quiet and wipe my face every time one does fall.

   Rafe and I had started separating like toxic chemicals, but somehow are hanging onto each other. We’d become two separate people but fused the both of us together simultaneously. This baby and our love would keep us together. I feel outlandish for even loving Rafe. I feel crazy.

   The truck door opens, and we’re at the Cameron’s house. Rose is watering pretty flowers that are full of life and color. Rafe holds out his hand, waiting for me to take it. I don’t and get out myself. Rose starts talking, but words aren’t comprehending with me. We walk inside.

   “Adriana, look at me. Please, baby.” Rafe says softly, closing and locking his bedroom door. I can’t bring myself to look into his dark blue eyes. “Baby, please. I need you to tell me you still love me. Adriana!” His words are bouncing off the walls to my ears. So much is happening. I stare into his eyes and see Rafe, but then the gun, blood, everything. 

   He starts crying. His sea is overflowing, while my ocean has been flooding. I push my brunette hair stuck to my wet face behind my ears. 

   Rafe gets close to me, and I stumble back into his desk. “Me or them?” He closes me in along with the indignant question. The flooded ocean cries out more. I shake my head. “No, no, no. Rafe, don’t do this to me, please.” My head lays against his chest, his shirt getting soaked. He knows; he just wants me to say it out loud because it’ll be real. I’ll speak it into existence.

   “You, Rafe.” I fall, but he picks up my limp body and lays me on the bed. His face brightens, and mine darkens, signing away my friends. The people I betrayed and backstabbed. “I’m pregnant, too,” I whisper; his face drops. Rafe’s slicked-back hair is a mess.

   Even if I hadn’t been pregnant, I think I would’ve still chosen Rafe, and I hate myself for that. But, sometimes love takes you like a storm, a hurricane, no- a tsunami, and despite every wrong, I decided him because I’m stupid. But I didn’t want to risk my unborn child's life, running, and the chances of getting shot were high by the police. 

   “Adriana, we- we talked about that last night, and you didn’t say anything.” Rafe stutters, but he’s angry. 

   Rafe stands up, pacing around his room, hands on his head; they ball into a fist, he lets go, and his fingers curl in the air. Rafe starts throwing things. First, a fake potted plant at the door, smashing to pieces by the impact, then everything from his desk falls to the floor; pens, a random book, and two of our framed pictures when we were happy. Finally, the glass shatters into fragments on the wood floor, incorporating indentations into the wood. 

   I cautiously touch my manic boyfriend's shoulder. He turns around quickly, and I take a step back. “Rafe, please stop. We can- you and me can talk about this, baby.” There was so much to talk about, and we’d have to tell our parents. Rafe isn’t in a good place, and neither am I.

   “What’s there to talk about. We have to fucking do this. Adriana, things fucking suck right now. Do you understand that? A baby! My fucking baby! Is this what you wanted. A perfect life, Adriana. Well, here it is.” His jaw clenches, and he grits his teeth. “I think I need to go. I’ll come back later.” I folded my arms over my chest and bit my bottom lip hard until blood drew. 

   Rafe shakes his head at me. “Stop doing that.” He says lowly and opens the door. As I walked out the door, I turned back around. Rafe kisses me. It was grim and full of anger, but it wasn’t rough like he usually would. Instead, it was soft, like I would kiss when we were in fights. 

   Rather than driving to my house, I make my way to The Cut, specifically the beach and call Kiara. I made myself clear when I only wanted Kie to come because I couldn’t handle the whole group's criticism, but I know Kie would not take this lightly either, but she’s my best friend and deserves to know from me.

   After a few minutes, I see Kiara walking in the distance. She runs to me and smothers me with her tight hug, which I take for remembrance. “I’ll start. Why were you with Rafe when that happened?” She makes hand motions but gets straight to the point. “He made me come, or maybe I had a choice to run away, but in the long run, I would've come either way. But Kie, I have to tell you two big things.” My eyes start to sting from tears, and she looks worried. My fingers run through the soft sand. She nods, waiting for me to go on. “I’m pregnant and cannot run with you guys. Rafe made me choose and- I’m sorry.” Tears slip down my cheeks, and she looks at me, processing the words.

   “Adriana- what. A baby. A murders, baby, and you chose him.” Her eyes widen. “What am I supposed to do, Kie? I will not put this child in danger. I know you're mad at me, and I’m sorry. I really am, but I can’t go with you guys.” Her face softens, realizing this might be the last time I see her for a while. Her eyes go red.

   Kiara takes a deep breath in and then out. She clutches onto me, and I hold onto her. “Can I?” She asks, referring to my stomach. I nod and lift my shirt to see a little bump. She puts her hand on my stomach, feeling its hardness. “Can’t wait to see this beautiful baby. He or she will have some good genes from their mother.” She jokes, looking at me with tears in her pretty brown eyes and smiling. 

   “I love you, Kie.” I laugh, crying. “I love you, Ad.” She lays her head on my shoulder. “Make sure you tell the others,” I yell to her from a distance. Kiara puts her thumb up and turns back around into the darkness fading, already turning into a dream. 

   That night I told my parents about me being pregnant, and news about John B had already been going around. They weren’t mad at me, but they did lecture me about John B thinking he’s a murderer when he’s not. Rafe is. 

   Today was my first ultrasound, and just as Wheezie asked, I did. I didn’t tell Rafe about this because I wanted support from a stable person, but I feel bad because it’s his child too. 

   Wheezie turns on music and blasts it throughout my jeep. The sonographer, for which I had to look up the technical term because I don’t know what they’re called, had thought Wheezie was my child. I giggled no, and Wheezie started coughing because she choked on her saliva. The building was comfy instead of all white and brick.

   I pulled into the driveway and saw Rafe. “Bye, Wheez.” I smile at the little girl walking past Rafe and into the house. Rafe gets in the jeep, squinting at me. I sigh, and a tingly wave goes to my fingers. I get nervous. “Where were you guys?” He questions me as if I have something to hide, and I don’t because I was planning to tell Rafe about the ultrasound afterwards. 

   “I was at the ultrasound place with Wheezie. Here are the pictures.” I hand him the black and white strip of pictures. “Wow. He’s adorable.” Rafe looks genuinely happy. He gets tears in his eyes. “I think it’s going to be a boy.” Rafe nods and kisses me. I bask in the feeling of this euphoric moment. He takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “I love you.” 

   “I love you too, baby.” I squeeze his hand, and we let go at the same time. Rafe gets out of the jeep and walks inside with a grin on his sharp face. He took the pictures with him. I did want to hang them up.

   The last stop was Topper. Sometimes I hated Topper and wanted to punch him like Rafe, but it was different. My boyfriend Rafe messes things up because that’s Rafe, but Topper is Top. He sides with his friends over anything despite them being wrong, and at this point, I only have Topper. I haven’t talked with him since Pope or the one sentence at Midsummers, but that doesn’t count. 

   I hesitated to knock on the door, already regretting this. Just before I knocked on the door, it opened. The dyed blonde-haired boy bumped into me. Topper's eyebrows knit together. “Adriana?” He questions, bringing me inside. “Hey, Top.” The smile barely makes it to my face. Seeing Topper is a relief because I know I can tell him things, and he wouldn’t speak to Rafe about it. 

   I start walking back and forth in the foyer of his house. “It’s been so bad, Topper.” I stop pacing around and stare at him. Tears threaten to fall from the ocean. The ocean seems to be a thunderstorm every day, never letting me down. “Ad, what do you mean. If Rafe is hurting you again.” Topper changes from confused to angry in a millisecond. “I’m pregnant. Rafe’s baby.” I start biting my nails. They’re down to the ends and can feel the skin. 

   Topper’s tall figure leans down and wraps his arms around me. I hadn’t felt this safe in a while; Being secured by someone felt pleasant. It was now a foreign sensation. My body falls to the white marble flooring just before Topper can catch me. He quickly picks me up, takes me to the boring white couch, and lays me down. 

   Thirty minutes pass, and I’m covered with a blanket and have water in my hand. “Rafe made me choose, like him or my friends. I know Rafe, and you hate the pouges, but they were my only friend's Topper, and he made me pick, but at the same time, I understand and don’t-” My head is laying on Topper's shoulder blade while we both look at each other. I kiss him.

   He kisses back for a second. Topper has a stubble that scratches against my face, which I never liked. Rafe knew I didn’t like his stubble rubbing against my face, so he shaved it for me. His lips are soft, but not Rafe’s. Rafe’s lips were kissable and mine, and he’d let me kiss him all day if it was possible, and I’d take him in a moment.

   We both pull back, instant regret washing over us. Another wave of hurt falls over me. “Adriana, this- I- no.” He doesn’t know what to say and simply sighs. “I’m sorry. I- it just happened. You’re like my brother.” I spit out in absolute disgust as my voice sharpens like the end of a razor. Topper burst out laughing. “Wow, ok. Honesty is key?” He says in a questioning manner. A smile crosses my face, and I let out a deep breath. “Sorry, that wasn’t supposed to come out like that.” I cover my mouth before I start dying of laughter. 

   We talk more about Rafe. The rest of our conversation consists of random discussions and the baby. Mostly the baby.

   Besides the awkward lips-to-lips thing, it felt like another night I would’ve spent at Top’s house. I would describe it as brother and sister type, but I feel weird saying siblings after we kissed. 

   By the end of the night or morning, the kiss is forgotten and drowned out by laughs and smiles carved into our gorgeous faces. I arrived home by two in the morning and texted Rafe, making plans to have dinner today around three in the afternoon.

   When I lay down, my body instantly loosens up. The fluffy white comforter envelops me in the warmth and Rafe's intense fragrance, still keeping its place in my room. My hands lay on my stomach, which is making a baby as we speak.

This is really happening, a baby. My child.

@beautifulvoidwinner

[heathersbutincorrect]

Time for a little mcsaw! Hope you enjoy!

Another boring Thursday afternoon. Sunlight crept into the equally sunny room of Heather McNamara. Duke’s face was so close to the magazine that she was reading that Veronica had no idea how she could see any of the words. Their leader was off getting a refill on her drink. McNamara was the only one attempting to study at all. Remedial math was no joke, Veronica mused as she turned a page and started a new chapter in her novel.

“We’re going to Remington tonight,” Heather declared. Veronica jumped a little. When had she gotten back in the room? She glanced up from her book in search of Mac. She hadn’t moved from her spot at the desk.

“Oh really,” Duke drawled as she scribbled something into her magazine. “Eric couldn’t get enough of you, huh?”

“Shut up, Heather. This isn’t about me. It’s about our reputation.”

Veronica was barely listening. She wondered why Heather was so much quieter than usual. She abandoned her book and wandered over to the desk. She barely got halfway there when Heather snapped at her.

“Veronica! Are you listening?”

“Yeah, you’re going to Remington to fuck some guy named Eric, I heard,” she muttered, causing Duke to snicker. In response, Chandler threw a pillow at the green clad girl.

“Ow,” she complained. “You’re a bitch.” Chandler pointedly ignored this comment.

“Hey, you okay?” Veronica inquired, almost touching McNamara but not quite.

“I can’t figure out number seven,” Heather sighed. “I’ve been stuck on it forever.”

“Come on. Take a break. We’re having a talk.” Veronica smiled a bit.

“Okay, Ronnie.” She followed her over to the bed, where everyone had congregated. Chandler sat up straight and looked at all of them.

“This is bigger than Eric. His older brother has a lot of sway. He’s a senior.”

Her face was incredibly serious. This was a big deal, then. Veronica was tired of college guys. None of them were even 18 yet. Chandler herself was a few weeks shy of 17. And yet they continued to infiltrate this very adult world. Veronica leaned into Mac, feeling lazy. She’d been more and more outwardly defying protocol in recent weeks.

“Ugh, do we have to?” Mac whined. “I have so much math homework to finish.”

“I can finish it for you,” Veronica offered, which earned a grateful look in response.

“It’s settled. Heather, let’s head home and get ready. And go to your OWN house this time. You always get in my damn way.”

Soon, it was just the two of them.

“Well?” Mac smiled. “Might as well get started.” Veronica groaned.

“I didn’t mean right now, you dork! I know more than stupid math is on your brain. You’ve been practically silent since lunch. What’s up?”

“Well…I was just…thinking about what you said at the last party a few days ago.” Mac frowned.

“Yeah? We were pretty drunk, huh?”

“Well yeah, but, is it true?”

“Is what true?” Veronica feigned ignorance, heart racing.

“You know what you said, Veronica. I can’t take someone messing with me again.” Mac slammed her book shut. Veronica was startled by this sudden display of anger.

“I’ll prove it to you.” She pulled Mac closer and kissed her. The door burst open. Duke had forgotten her magazine. Veronica dropped Mac to the floor.

“Uh hey,” Veronica choked out. God it was warm in here. “How’s it going?”

“Idiots.” She grabbed the magazine. The door snapped shut again. Mac burst into giggles on the carpet.

[dashboarddiaries]

The Dashboard Diaries Awards

that's right, we're doing AWARDS now. and we want your input on not only who should win what award, but who should be nominated.

go listen to the episode and then come back and take a close look at these categories - our personal nominees are included as a jumping off point, but we want to hear from YOU! reblog and scream in the tags, send us an ask, email us at dashboarddiariespod@gmail.com, reply to the post, whatever floats your boat. we're going to track folks' submissions over the next few weeks and then you best believe we're putting the poll feature to work.

so without further adieu...

Most Niche Discourse/Fandom Drama what's the weirdest thing you've seen people be in a froth about on tumblr? so far we've got:

realm shifting/energy vibration discourse

barbie doll fandom drama

Best Blorbo self-explanatory. who is THEE best blorbo? our nominees:

Bucky Barnes

Joel Miller

Eddie Munson

Puss 'N Boots

Dream of the Endless

Lynda Carter

Billy Butcher

Steve Harrington

Most Shippable Couple also self-explanatory. let the bloodbath begin:

Scully/Mulder

Merthur (Merlin/Arthur)

Black Bonnet (Blackbeard/Stede Bonnet)

Steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

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Calliette (Calliope/Juliette)

Memed the Most memes are the lifeblood of tumblr:

Breaking Bad

Live Slug Reaction

Tickets to Barbie

Goncharov

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Best TV Show for Making Gifsets we could stare at this loops for hours:

Stranger Things

Santa Clarita Diet

Arcane

Dragon Prince

Severance

What We Do in the Shadows

Succession

Always Fixating / Best New Fixation what makes you chew through drywall? for us, it's:

Stucky

The Last of Us

Our Flag Means Death

Goncharov

Heartstopper

Best “Day of the Week” Meme every day a little holiday:

Energy Sword Sunday

Miku Monday

Sweet fat of the hog Tuesday

Tuesday again? No problem

It is Wednesday my dude

Out of touch Thursday

How the fuck is it not Friday Thursday

Flat Fuck Friday

Radical saturday

Stranger than Fanfiction (shows/movies that feel like fanfic in the best of ways) we built this city on tropes and ships:

Our Flag Means Death

Venom II

Heartstopper

and now we want to hear from YOU!! send us your thoughts for additional nominees that should be in these categories!!

[finalgirlkateausten]

picnic dates + nellie/hannah pls oh my god

wanna hold this moment the way you're holdin' me

Alright, so this got longer than I really expected, and took a different direction entirely tbh... anyway I love them and I had a great time writing them and also Hannah needs therapy. Those are my takeaways from writing this all evening and posting at a quarter to midnight 😅

When the temperatures stay in the 60s and 70s all week, Nellie knows summer is well and truly on the way. She hates the cold, and rain is usually at best a minor frustration, so seeing the sun on her way into work every morning and enjoying the warm afternoon on her lunch break has her beaming at patients and brushing off work issues far easier than she normally would.

"We should go somewhere," she says to Hannah, their shoulders brushing as they leave the hospital together Thursday evening. Shift work means they have all of Friday off, and from where Nellie is standing, a sunny June Friday is too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Hannah smiles regretfully at her, stepping away from her just a little as she turns toward where her car is parked. "I'm on call on Saturday, I don't think we can go too far."

"It doesn't have to be anything big," Nellie cajoles, following her still even though she's parked further down in the lot. "Let's just do something to enjoy the nice weather. We could splurge on that sandwich shop you like and have, I don't know, a picnic or something!"

Hannah fidgets with her car keys in her hand, and for a moment Nellie thinks she's going to say no, like she does whenever she suggests actually having dinner out or seeking out an event fancier than ladies' night at a club or god forbid, letting on to anyone at med that they're seeing each other. But the blonde just smirks, raising her eyebrows with a flicker of disbelief in her eyes. "Is Lincoln Park good enough to fulfill your lesbian cottagecore fantasies?"

Nellie snorts at the phrasing. "Oh, please. We both know I'm easily entertained."

Honestly, Hannah is on the same page as Nellie about the beautiful weather. To calm herself down about the level of date this outing might count as, she dresses intentionally casual, converse and a black concert tee with light blue jeans. She drives out to grab the sandwiches they'd ordered and then swings by Nellie's apartment building, laughing at the bundle of blankets and tote bags she's carrying. "Woah, you came prepared!"

"No ants or grass stains at this picnic," Nellie pronounces with a grin, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Just blue skies and sunshine and nice, big blankets. Did you get the sandwiches?"

"Yep!" Hannah shuts the door to the backseat and accepts a quick kiss from Nellie before heading back to the driver's seat. "We're all set."

Hannah's spotify is already hooked up to her car's bluetooth, so Nellie teases her about her music taste and they both sing along until they reach the park, a drive that feels like it hardly takes any time at all with the good moods they're in. As they step out into the sunlight and head down a walking path, Hannah finds herself more enthusiastic about the idea of a picnic than she'd been when Nellie had suggested it. "Can we find a spot by the water? It's a weekday, and it's not quite lunch time yet, I don't think there'll be too much crowding."

"It's not like it's a hot new restaurant, honey," Nellie teases, lengthening her stride to keep up with her. "As long as we don't mind dog walkers or nannies and toddlers, I don't think anyone is going to bother us."

"Well, I'm down for either of those options," Hannah agrees, following the signpost toward the waterfront. "Seriously, I would adopt a dog in a heartbeat if my apartment had the space... and, well, it's probably obvious that I think kids are pretty damn cute."

"I could've guessed," Nellie laughs. "I would totally love a dog too, but I would want to adopt a rescue."

"Absolutely," Hannah agrees. "That's the only way I would do it... the SPCA ads always make me cry."

They debate large dogs versus small dogs until they pass a grand, twisting willow tree, situated maybe halfway between the path and the riverbank. "Oh, look how pretty," Hannah gasps.

Nellie grins as she takes her hand. "And you thought this was a bad idea."

"I never said that!"

Even though she'd laughed at the level of preparedness, Hannah has to admit that the grassy hill is much more pleasurable with two layers of blankets. Nellie kicks off her birkenstocks and Hannah unlaces her converse, earning her some teasing laughter at the daisy print on her socks. "I just saw them at Target!" She protests. "I thought they were cute."

"Hey, I'm not judging," Nellie says with a shrug, producing a bottle of sparkling cider from her tote bag. "I love Target. I always spend way too much money, but then I'm like, 'hey, self-care'."

"Now I have an excuse," Hannah laughs, turning a little to open the paper bag and unwrap their sandwiches. "Impulse-buying? No, my psychiatrist girlfriend says it's self-care."

In the exact moment that Hannah processes the words that have just come out of her mouth, Nellie leans down to kiss her. It's a soft, warm kiss, and her fingers tilt Hannah's chin up to the right angle for her to deepen it, but Hannah pulls away instead, her heart racing. Nellie is watching her with a curious smile.

"Girlfriend?"

"I--" Hannah doesn't want to just brush it off, but her stomach is tying itself in knots. "I mean. Well-- sure."

"Hannah," Nellie says, her laugh tinged with uncertainty as she takes her hand, "I want a little more than 'sure'."

Hannah fees regret burning under her sternum as she bites her lip and meets Nellie's eyes. "I... don't know what I can give you."

"As an answer?" Nellie questions. "Or in general?"

"Both," Hannah laughs, caught off-guard by the blunt callout. "I... isn't this easy, Nell? We can go on fun picnics and spend weekend nights pressed up against each other at the club and share a bed for fun and comfort whenever we want. And we don't have to think about anything else, and I don't have to think about if there's any other reason you would want me."

"Hannah," Nellie says softly, squeezing her hand a little too tight. "Baby, I would never want you to think that. I want you for so many reasons, you're important to me way beyond having fun and hooking up."

"I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse," Hannah responds, swallowing hard. "Nellie... I trust you, and I care about you, a lot. But I haven't been in a committed relationship, one with a name on it, since before I got sober. And I feel like you're holding out your hand for me to join you on this great, amazing roller coaster... but I don't know if I'm really... ready." She presses her lips together, moistening them with her tongue. "I'm sorry... I know that's not what you wanted to hear."

"It's okay," Nellie reassures her. "You don't need to apologize. Thank you for being so clear with me, baby... I'm okay just staying where we are, yeah? If that's what you need right now, I don't want to rush anything."

A little surprised by the immediate agreement, Hannah gives Nellie a somewhat watery smile, before abandoning the sandwich bag to lean forward and throw her arms around the brunette. "Thank you," she mumbles, her face buried in Nellie's hair. "I care a lot about you, Nell. I really like what we've got going. I just wanna... stay here a little while longer."

"We can do that," Nellie promises, her fingers scratching gently at the base of Hannah's scalp. "We can stay here as long as you need."

"I didn't mean literally here," Hannah points out, readjusting her head on Nellie's shoulder.

"Why not?" the brunette says lightly. "We have beautiful weather, the river ambiance... sandwiches..." she reaches halfheartedly for the bag.

"I'm not hungry," Hannah decides, shifting position so that she's lying on Nellie's lap looking up at her. "Play with my hair some more?"

Nellie laughs, and her smile is so bright that Hannah actually feels a spark of hope that she hasn't totally fumbled this. "I'd love to."

"You're amazing," Hannah tells her. "You're too good to me."

"No I'm not," Nellie says simply.

Hannah blinks, and then shrugs, a smile brought over her face by the soothing touch and the warmth of the day. She closes her eyes and acquiesces, to everything Nellie is offering. "Okay."

[1d1195]

I love your “geekiness”! You’re passionate about things and like who cares if it’s considered “nerdy”?! If you love it then really like that’s what matters!

And a peach sangria sounds so good ngl?! And yeah a whole lecture after an exam is BRUTAL and so mean lol my hot professor did that this week and honestly my heart broke a little😔 but he did look hot that day once again sooooo I guess I will let it slide 🤪

Omg are possibly doing a boxer AU?! HELLO?! Very excited for whatever comes from that inspo! I loved that you were able to create that anxious/suspense vibe though! It was so fun to read! AND I SAW HOW YOU WANTED TO END IT IN THE FIRST PLACE LIKE SAM GIRL YOU COULD HAVE ABSOLUTELY PULLED IT OFF!!!!!! That alternate ending would have been AMAZING TOO! It would have once again been unexpected but totally understandable since her stalker is actually insane?! And I feel like it would have been dramatic (in a good way) and I just know the angst would have it so well! Anyways I 100% support you going for it in future stories!!! I mean you were able to pull off like 2 kidnappings in protection so I’m sure you would have done great in this too! But this doesn’t mean I don’t love the ending that you posted any less!! Trust yourself bestie❤️

And thank you so much! My weekend has been good so far! I even bought a new book I hopefully can read! I hope yours is going well too!!!-💜

I started a book earlier in the week and read a good chunk of it this morning with my morning coffee, It's sunny around here for the first time in like 2.5 weeks so I have the shades open and no lights on and it's so nice! I woke up super early for a Sunday 😐 had a dream someone broke into "my" house (I am poor and rent an overpriced apartment) and woke up in a cold sweat. That's what I get for writing a stalker story. Anyway, I hope you get to read too and have a peaceful Sunday! 💕

I am not a wine-drinker. I'm hoping I'll turn 40 with kids and switch will go off and I'll start liking it more but I'm a sl*t for sangria of all types. Fall is always my favorite season and I'm honestly not a big drinker (I've got a lot of family hang-ups about it) but I think I could make an exception when it comes to apple cider sangria 🤭

Well yeah, you probs don't have a choice staying for hot-professor's lecture 😍 All the more, a good reason you left on Thursday.

I was thinking about my alternate ending this morning. We'll see. I think it would have been a little anti-climactic and it would have very strict guidelines to follow reading as it would only take place in the middle of part 8 and probs still end with her family showing up kind of thing if that makes sense. Like literally just swapping out the apartment scene with a restaurant scene. I don't think I've mentioned it before but I was very much inspired by the show The Night Agent while writing Protection so I feel like that's why I was able to pull off a few kidnappings in that one hehehe

I've been mulling over my boxer au for a while now. I've been trying to come up with a bit more substance to it but the bare bones are there. It'll be here soon I think 😉

xoxo

[wingedkatgirl]

Ep. 1 (Channel 48 News)

Carol: Hello everyone, and welcome back to channel 48 news where we bring you the news with a smile. And now let’s go to Caren with the weather, Caren?

Caren: Thank you, Carol. This week should be mostly sunny and we can expect some light meteor showers and a 40%-48% chance of acid rain from Thursday to Pilzday and we can expect some more in the future. So I’d suggest that our viewers at home stay indoors and maybe play some board games this weekend. Back to you Carol.

Carol: Thank you, Caren. And with that, we’d like to remind everyone to please check your roofs for any potential leaks. We wouldn’t want any meteors or acid getting in our homes now, would we? (stares at the camera for an uncomfortable amount of time). Now we’ll go to Candice with sports, Candice?

Candice: Thank you, Carol. The House Flies are currently 6 points ahead of the Cockroaches in this most recent baseball game. Here we have the team captain of the House Flies, Mr. Davidson. Mr. Davidson, how do you feel about this week’s victory?

Mr. Davidson: First of all Candice, it’s an absolute pleasure to finally meet you, you look lovely today, and this victory means a lot to the House Flies after the Cockroaches’s win last win. Anddddd I’m really proud and think we’re making a name for ourselves.

Candice: Well you certainly are. Anything you’d like to say to the Cockroaches?

Mr. Davidson: Well yes there is something I’d like to say (suddenly gets serious/scary) no matter much you try, no matter how fast you run, we will always find you and beat you to the ground (back to normal) and that’s all I have to say about that.

Candice: (unphased) Well that’s very nice to hear, Mr. Davidson. Looks like the House Flies will give the Cockroaches a run for their money.

Mr. Davidson: (serious/scary) Oh we will, we will…..

Candice: Back to you Carol.

Carol: Thank you, Candice. Baseball really gets the blood pumping, eh? Reminds me of how my son Timmy played baseball in the backyard. (stares into the distance for a moment) (snaps back). Well, thank you for tuning into channel 48 news, and remember, keep smiling and everything will be okay (glitches)(End).

Link to main post:

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

The last couple of weeks of May flew by, soon June arrived and with it even more sunny days and warmer temperatures. Peter couldn’t help but think that his life fell apart in the winter, and as summer approached, it was slowly getting back on track. He was able to save a decent amount of money every month, his apartment was coming together – he even had a dinner table and chairs by the second week of June –, he was taking on more responsibility at BFF way quicker than expected and he was happier, in general.

He felt comfortable enough to make plans again – with the steady money he was making, he might be able to give up porn in a couple of years and he would still be eligible to apply for some of BFF’s grants and scholarships, meaning he may be able to go to college at 23, after all. Money would be tight for a while, but it was doable. He could always work part-time to supplement his income as well.

Summer also brought some unexpected good news. On a random Thursday morning, he was bombarded with messages on Twitter and Instagram from people asking where they could find his videos now that Beck’s channel was down. He was confused at first, but when he went to check, the channel wasn’t there, it had disappeared from the site.

He gasped. For a total of five seconds, his mind went wild, his heart raced, and his eyes watered. For those five seconds, he felt a mixture of happiness, relief and confusion, knowing those videos weren’t out there anymore, couldn’t be found, couldn’t be seen, couldn’t be remembered. But it was only for five blissful seconds. When his brain turned back on and the first rush of excitement died down, he realized that probably wouldn’t last.

That had happened before, when they first started posting. People mass reported the videos and the channel until they got taken down, because Peter looked very young at eighteen. They had to send a picture of his ID to the website for check several times, it was months before it stopped happening once and for all. Peter assumed Beck was posting videos of his new boyfriend, who he knew looked very young, so it was probably just a misunderstanding and only a matter of time until he got the channel – and the videos – back up.

Still, he allowed himself to count that as a win and couldn’t help but feeling giddy all day, to the point where everybody noticed his good mood – Ned, MJ, people at BFF and Tony.

Tony, who didn’t disappear. As days and nights and weeks went by, Peter stopped waiting for it to happen.

“Someone is awfully cheery today.” The older man grinned at him from the driver’s side that night, as Peter sang along to Ed Sheeran, because it was his turn to choose the playlist. Tony had picked him up from BFF and they were heading to his place for a quiet night in.

“It’s a good day, Tony.” He shot back after the chorus of Put it All on Me and the older man beamed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up.

“It sure is, kitten.” He turned up the volume and Peter sang even louder, causing Tony to burst out laughing.

At some point, he realized life was a little less complicated than he gave it credit for. He realized that if he actually gave things the precise amount of thought they deserved, not everything felt like the end of the world. The minute he decided to just let things happen the way they were supposed to happen, without overthinking every detail, life got so much easier.

He decided not to make the thing with Tony a big deal. Sure, when he thought about it for more than two minutes, it seemed like a huge fucking deal, he was basically dating Tony Stark, one of the richest men in the world, Iron Man himself, the man who had literately saved half the universe from extinction not even two years earlier. So, yes, that seemed like a big fucking deal, but–

But.

To him, he was just Tony. This charming guy who texted him daily to ask about his day and crack acid jokes about his business associates. This kind guy who sent him chocolates when he was feeling down and cooked him dinner every weekend and made sure to e-mail him easy and healthy recipes so he wouldn’t starve to death. This gentle guy who called him beautiful and touched him with such care that he forgot how many hands had left bruises on his skin before.

When he forgot everything Tony was supposed to be and just focused on everything that he was to him, what they had seemed so simple and pure.

He stopped worrying about labels, too. In the beginning, he kept stressing about what they had, what was expected of him, what he expected of Tony, but eventually, he decided none of that mattered. They made each other feel good, they made each other happy, they made each other better, all in all, whatever label he could put on their relationship wouldn’t make any difference, so he let it go.

Weeks later, Peter heard Beck had managed to get the channel back up, only for it to get taken down again in a few hours, then his Instagram and Twitter also disappeared. He wasn’t too surprised, and if he was honest with himself, it was fun imagining Beck losing his mind as he tried to fix it. After all, every day the channel was down, he was losing money. And his social media, specially his Twitter account, was where he promoted his content to thousands of followers, so losing that meant losing money as well, and if there was one thing Peter knew Beck loved, it was money.

He wondered what the fuck the man had done to piss people off like that, it was clearly a coordinated attack, but he wasn’t curious enough to try and find out what happened. He would rather watch from a distance, rejoicing in the satisfaction it gave him to imagine that maybe, just maybe, one of those days Beck wouldn’t be able to get the channel back up and would have to start from scratch, like Peter did. And maybe then he wouldn’t re-upload his videos – that part was a little harder to believe, but who knew, stranger things had happened.

When June came to an end, Peter was surprised with a notification from Tony on Just4Fans. He had almost forgot the man was still subscribed to his account there, they obviously never chatted on the app anymore, and when he opened the notification, his blood ran cold in his veins.

It was a tip.

A hundred thousand dollars tip.

He couldn’t fucking believe it. A tip? For what, a job well done? It wasn’t like Peter was – what did that even mean? Was Tony trying to say something with that, send some kind of message?

He decided not to call him right away, he was too – upset. The older man was picking him up later that evening for dinner, so he decided to wait. Whatever he had to say to him, he wanted to hear it in person. He wanted him to look in his eyes and tell him he thought he was his fucking wh–

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked as soon he got in his car, avoiding the kiss that came his way. Tony blinked in surprise, trying to understand why he got a phone shoved in his face instead of a kiss, and then he finally saw what that was all about.

“Oh, that–“ But before he could answer anything, Peter interrupted.

“I told you I’m not – Tony, why would you – this is so insulting!” He was honestly at a loss for words. They had been seeing each other for almost two months by then, things were going great, they met every week, they made apple pie together, for God’s sake, had he misunderstood all the signs?

“My God, Peter, that’s not that, I just thought – I mean, I’m a billionaire, you know this is pocket change for me, right?” Peter gasped, shocked, and Tony’s eyes widened when he fumbled with the door handle. “Wait! I didn’t mean – Jesus, okay, hold on a second, please!” Tony reached over him to shut the door before Peter could get out of the car. The young man turned to look at him with tears in his eyes and Tony looked incredulous when he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t just assume the worst, have I given you any reason for that?” He sounded hurt, which made Peter gulp. He took a few calming breaths and shook his head slowly.

“No,” he whispered, dropping his gaze.

“Ok, good.” He actually sounded relieved at that. “I am a billionaire, Peter, and this is pocket change for me, which means –“ he raised his voice a little, predicting a reaction from him that didn’t come, “I didn’t realize this would be such a big deal. For me, it’s like giving you, I don’t know, flowers. I didn’t mean this as a payment for whatever you think this is, I just thought this would be a good help. You’re starting your life now, you have that list of yours that you don’t let me see, you’re saving up money, you have your plans for college, I just meant to help. I mean, if we weren’t together, I would have tipped you every month, so I thought –“

“But we are together, Tony, I –“ he was a little calmer then, because that was, in fact, a reasonable explanation and he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but next time you mean to give me flowers, just give me flowers! I believe you have the best intentions at heart, but it’s just weird for me. I don’t want this to be about money. I just – don’t want that, okay?”

He gazed at the older man as he gaped at him, mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out for a while.

“I just thought – I mean, people usually –“ It was unusual to see Tony speechless like that, but the man shook his head and looked back at him, almost embarrassed. “I just want to help you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Peter poked him in the arm, trying to lighten up the mood in the car. “You’re teaching me how to cook. Yesterday I made an omelet and I only burned one side, I’m getting good at this. That’s a big help.”

Tony didn’t laugh at his joke, like he usually did, he just gazed at him with an unreadable expression, before leaning in to kiss him, which Peter gladly reciprocated.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” he whispered, then, resting his forehead against his.

“And I’m sorry I was rude. It won’t happen again,” he promised, and he meant it.

After that night, he removed Tony from his Just4Fans, which came as a blow to the older man, who pouted and whined for about a week, only stopping when Peter showed up at his place one Saturday wearing Iron Man lingerie under his clothes – it was supposed to be a joke, but it worked surprisingly well for Tony.  

By July, it became impossible to keep sneaking around Ned and MJ, as the dates became more frequent. Peter decided to tell them that he had met someone online and that they were getting to know each other. He told them it was nothing serious yet and if it became serious, they would meet him.

He did have to throw in a few lies to get them off his back – he definitely had to lie about Tony’s age to avoid certain comparisons, but he would cross that bridge when he got to it, if he ever got to it. He wasn’t sure if or when he was going to tell them the whole truth, but for the time being, he  felt more comfortable keeping that relationship to himself.

He and Tony didn’t go out much, but when they did, it was always to fancy and discreet restaurants with private rooms; Tony was, after all, a celebrity for all intents and purposes, and at if the press got a whiff of them there would be no secret left to keep.

But staying in with Tony was far from boring. They cooked together and the older man taught him all of his grandmother’s secret recipes – Peter could never replicate them by himself at home, but it was still fun trying. They spent almost all of their time down in the workshop, though, where Tony  had him do menial tasks, like screwing bolts or reaching for a part inside an Iron Man suit. He said his tiny hands were useful for his projects.

He knew he wasn’t really that useful, but he loved when Tony included him and asked for his help, even though he didn’t really need it. He was fascinated by everything the older man taught him in those moments and in turn Tony always looked proud and pleased when Peter put his lessons to use.

He didn’t mind keeping him company when Tony was focused on projects he couldn’t help with, he stayed there anyway, reading a book or watching TV on the tiny couch – Tony kept saying he was going to get a bigger one, but he didn’t believe it, he knew the older man enjoyed the fact that the only way they could fit comfortably on it was if Peter was lying half on top of him.

So after several weeks, they established a little routine of their own. Since Tony had a busy schedule and Peter was still trying to keep Ned and MJ somewhat in the dark, they didn’t meet that often on week days, but they always talked on the phone before bed. On Thursdays, Tony picked him up after his shift at BFF and he spent the night at his place. They had breakfast together on Fridays and then they met again every Saturday after lunch, and finally Tony dropped him back off home every Sunday evening, so he could have dinner with his friends.

In August, for the first time in his life, Peter had two birthday celebrations. One with his friends, when the three of them went bar-hopping and he got home so hammered he had absolutely no idea how they managed to climb the stairs, and another with Tony, when he decorated the workshop with  balloons and put party hats on Dum-E and U.

“Surprise!” He yelled lamely, throwing confetti at Peter when they stepped into the workshop. The younger man laughed, delighted, as Tony hurried to the kitchenette and came back with something in his hands. “I know it doesn’t look good, but I promise it tastes good. Probably.” When Peter looked down, he noticed it was a large chocolate cake with ‘Happy Birthday, kitten’ written on it in bright pink icing. It looked so ugly, but it was so beautiful at the same time. “What did I do now?” Tony frowned, face falling.

He blinked a few times and when he touched his cheeks, he realized he was crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m just – really happy.” He grinned, pulling the older man’s face to give him a kiss. “Thank you.”

It was late October when Tony told him he had to go on a trip to China for two weeks, and even though it wasn’t his first work trip since they started dating, five months earlier, it would be by far the longest one since then, so it was kind of a big deal. Still, he didn’t expect to feel so affected, but on the days leading up to it he was so upset he couldn’t hide it.

They spent their last Sunday together wrapped up in each other doing absolutely nothing. They slept in, Tony brought Peter breakfast in bed, which was rewarded with a lazy and sloppy blow job, and they spent all day in bed, only getting up for essentials, like food and water. They didn’t even turn on the TV, they didn’t even talk much. They just held each other and exchanged slow, tender kisses until their bodies were too warm to stay under the sheets.

Tony ran a bath for them and got in the tub – it was big enough for eight people, but Peter made a point to sit in his lap, clinging to him like a koala. He felt Tony’s arms encircle him gently, as he rested his chin on top of his head.

“I’ll be home before you even have time to miss me, kitten.” He whispered, and those were the first words either of them had said in at least a few hours.

Peter didn’t tell him that was impossible since he already missed him, instead he just held him even tighter.

After the bath water went cold, they climbed out of the tub and Tony insisted on drying him, before dressing him in one of his own T-shirts, even though Peter had a multitude of spare clothes in his closet. He sat in bed, watching Tony pack a huge suitcase that reminded him just how long he would be gone for. He sulked a little – just a little – and that earned him a little kiss on his forehead, which was enough to undo the frown between his brows.

Finally, in the evening, Tony parked his car in front of Peter’s building, turning to look at him with an almost pained smile, before leaning in for a kiss.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Peter whispered against his mouth and felt when Tony’s lips stretched into a small smile. He pulled away a little, just enough to look into his eyes, and cupped his chin in his hand.

“I’ll miss you too, but I won’t be long, ok? It’s just a few days.” He pecked Peter’s lips one more time for good measure and the younger man nodded.

“Call me if you have time.”

“Of course, kitten, every day.” He leaned in for another kiss, this one longer than the previous, and Peter’s heart fluttered. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, containing the urge to say those three words that had been trapped in the back of his throat for weeks.

“Have a safe trip. Let me know when you land.”

“I will, baby.”

Peter got out of the car and waved, watching as it disappeared down the street. He sighed and his heart ached, he already missed Tony and it had only been a few seconds, how was he going to survive fifteen whole days? It seemed impossible. It was crazy to think how far they had come since March, when they talked for the first time. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

He turned to go inside, but froze in place when he heard a familiar voice.

“So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me, huh? How rude.” He turned slowly to the left, only to be met with Beck’s cocky, arrogant smile, just a few feet away from him. “I tried calling, I tried texting, you’ve blocked me everywhere, I can’t even e-mail you anymore, it appears.” Beck walked slowly and leaned against the rails of the stairs to Peter’s building and the younger man curled his hands in fists, trying to control the urge to just run. “Long time no see, Petey-pie.”

He was paralyzed, muscles rigid, but to his own surprise, it wasn’t fear that he felt, or sadness. It was pure anger.  

“I wonder why,” he answered quietly, but firmly. Beck’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, before the smile was back in place. “How did you find me?” He demanded, because Beck had never cared to ask where Peter was going to stay after he kicked him out, so how in the hell would he know where to find him?

“Wasn’t easy, I have been following you on Instagram, some of your morning run routes seemed familiar, so I–”

“You stalked me?” He frowned, taking a step closer to the other man, who looked at Peter with indignation and hurt. He shook his head, softened those baby blue eyes and placed one hand over his chest, right above where his heart would have been if he had one.

“I just wanted to see you, is all.” He shrugged, dropping his gaze to stare at his own feet, and Peter wanted to roll his eyes. It was so weird watching his whole act now that the spell had been lifted.

“What do you want?” He asked, making the older man’s head snap back up, a little surprised by his cold tone.

“I just told you, I wanted to see you. I missed you.” He took a few steps towards Peter, who in turn walked backwards to keep his distance

“You missed me?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Where’s your new boy-toy, you put him away so you could come play with me?” He cocked his head to the side and, for a moment, he could see the shock crossing his features.

“Pete… Why are you acting like this, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore...” His voice broke and he looked away, pretending to wipe away a tear. He wondered how the hell he used to fall for that.

“You don’t, Quentin. I’m not a lost little boy anymore, you should go back to your boyfriend. Or is he smarter than me and dumped you already? Is that what this is all about?” He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, and Beck’s mouth hung open like he couldn’t believe his words.

“I made a mistake, Pete. After so many years, I took you for granted, I couldn’t see what I saw the first time I met you. I couldn’t see how beautiful you were, how caring and loving you were, how loyal and reliable and – I don’t know, I was blind. I was so stupid, I shouldn’t have left you.” His eyes were wide, earnest, shining with unshed tears. His face was open, even his body language screamed honesty. Suddenly, he didn’t feel so bad about falling for his act – Beck was good. “Don’t  you miss me, baby? Don’t you miss us?”

Peter snorted, shaking his head, he couldn’t believe the nerve of that man.

“You made a mistake, huh? So you dumped your new boy, right? If I were to go home with you right now, he wouldn’t be there, waiting for you, like a fucking plan B, in case this doesn’t go your way. Right?” It was his turn to take a few steps towards the older man. “Like I was your plan B while you waited for him to turn 18?”

“Peter, c’mon–“

“Is he there, Beck? Just answer me that. Come on, if he’s not, I’ll take you back right now, we can go home together.” He insisted, looking into the older man’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything, he just sighed. “Of course he is. If I said yes, what would you do? Tell him to pack his things in the middle of the night and leave? Would you keep all the money he’s made you and tell him to fuck off? Would you leave him broke and lonely and fucking lost in this world? Would you tell him that he wasn’t good enough and dispose of him like he’s fucking garbage?” His voice grew louder and louder, and when he came to himself, he noticed he was in Beck’s face, their chests almost touching, so he took a step back. “So to answer your question, Quentin, no, I don’t fucking miss you. You fucking ruined me!”

“I saved you!” And just like that, the good guy act was gone. His whole demeanor changed, the soft baby blues widened, his mouth was set in a sneer, he puffed out his chest to intimidate him, but Peter stood his ground. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember who you were before me. You were a fucking loser! An orphan, no family, no friends, no future! I took you in, I took care of you, I gave you a profession – don’t fucking roll your eyes, what the fuck are you doing now, huh? Rocket science? ‘Cause it seems to me like you’re still doing porn, and now you’re clearly branching out into prostitution, would you look at that!”

“You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about!” He placed his hands on the man’s chest and pushed him away when he got too fucking close for comfort. He held his breath when he realized what he had done, afraid of the man’s reaction, but he just kept his distance.  

“You know what? Fuck you, Peter. I was wrong about you, I thought I knew who you were, I thought I missed you, but you’re just a disgusting fucking whore, after all. You’re a dirty little bitch in heat who likes to get this loose hole of yours fucked by old perverts, I don’t know why I’m surprised, I mean, that’s why I dumped you, you were enjoying those videos a little bit too much for my taste. You weren’t even satisfied with two cocks up your ass, one in your mouth and a line of men waiting to fuck you. You disgust me.” He started walking away, and Peter wanted to say something, he wanted to yell at him and defend himself, he wanted to tell him he didn’t fucking enjoy it, he wanted to tell him that it was all his fault, he threw him to the lions, he let those men fucking–

Fuck!

He rushed inside the building and ran upstairs, eyes clouded with tears. He tripped and fell knees first on the steps, but he didn’t even feel pain, he just got up and kept going, kept running, trying to put as much distance between him and Beck as he could, even though it was irrational. Beck was gone, he walked away, he left him, he left him again, he wasn’t coming back–

“Ned?!” He knocked urgently on his friends’ door. He didn’t have his spare key, it was upstairs in his own apartment, but he couldn’t trust himself to go all the way up there and down again without having a full on panic attack. “MJ?! Are you guys home?!” He was really trying not to sound too desperate, he didn’t want to scare them, but it was hard controlling his emotions when his heart was hammering against his chest and he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Peter?” It was MJ who yanked the door open. She had a towel wrapped around her torso, her hair was wet, and Peter felt guilty, but she took one look at him and quickly pulled him into a hug. “My God, Peter...” She whispered into his hair when he started sobbing uncontrollably on her naked shoulder. “Come on in, c’mon.” He heard the door closing behind him, but he didn’t let go of her, he felt like if he did, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together.  

He wanted to tell her not to worry, that she should go finish her shower and change, but he really, really needed her right then. She sat down on the couch, pulling him with her and he promptly laid down, burying his face in her legs. He couldn’t stop crying and sobbing and no matter how many times she asked him what was wrong, sounding increasingly more worried, he couldn’t get his feelings under control enough to give her any answer.

He was there for what felt like hours, when at some point someone lifted him from MJ’s lap and enveloped him in such a tight hug he couldn’t breath for a second, but he sighed in relief, it was right what he needed. Ned’s arms felt like home, it calmed him down almost instantly – his voice whispering that it was fine, everything was going to be okay helped a lot, too.

“I hate him, I hate him so fucking much,” he mumbled into his shoulder, God knew how much time later, and his friend just hummed, patting his back. “I hate that he made a mess of me and I let him.” He couldn’t hold back more tears when he said that, because it was true, it was so fucking true. He let Beck do whatever he wanted to him, he let him ruin his dreams, his future, his fucking personality, until he was nothing but a shell of what he used to be.

“I know, Peter, I know,” Ned soothed him, rubbing his back, even though he probably had no idea what he was talking about. “It’s okay now. You’re okay. It’s over”

“I made tea.” MJ’s quiet voice sounded somewhere from his right and when he turned to look at her, she was already dressed, wet hair up in a bun, with a mug in her hands, which she extended to him. He accepted it but didn’t dare to take a sip, he was positive that if he did, he would throw up, his stomach was all kinds of fucked up at that moment. “Peter, what happened? Did Star – uh, did your boyfriend do something? Did he hurt? ‘Cause I swear to God–” Just the mention of Tony being the cause of his distress made him sick, so he cut her off.

“Beck was here.” He sniffed, looking at the mug to avoid their eyes when he heard both of them gasping.

“Beck? Beck was here? Fucking Beck?” MJ screeched and he nodded.

“He was waiting for me outside.” He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to gather enough energy to have that conversation.  

“What did he want?” Ned asked calmly, while MJ paced the floor, furious.

“I don’t know...” He shrugged, wrecking his brain to try and figure out what his motive was. “His channel got taken down a few weeks ago and he couldn’t get it back up. I heard he had to start over.” He hadn’t been watching that closely, but he knew something was wrong, even his Twitter and Instagram accounts kept getting taken down almost monthly, it was impossible he was making any money over the past few months. “He said he wanted to get back together, probably because he thinks us making up would be a big hit or whatever. I said no, of course. He didn’t like the answer.”

“Did he hurt you?!” MJ strode back to him until she was standing right in front of him, looking into his eyes. He was almost intimidated by her.

“No, he just… Said some pretty shitty things, is all,” he answered sheepishly, because he hated that that man could still make a mess of him with just a few hurtful words.

“Oh, dude. He’s just mad he’s lost control over you. Whatever he said, he just wanted to hurt you, it doesn’t mean anything.” Ned placed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and Peter rested his head against his, sighing.

“I know. He was always like that, you know,” he whispered, as flashes of memories crossed his mind. “When I didn’t bend to his wishes, when I didn’t do things his way, he fucking–“ He squeezed his eyes shut, furious, because he had fallen for that again. “He tries to charm me and when it doesn’t work, he attacks me. But the thing is, he really knows what to say to destroy me. It just sucks. But it’s fine. I just need a moment, I’ll be fine.” He sat up straight and looked both of his friends in the eyes.

“Yes, you will. You most certainly will.” Ned patted his shoulder one last time, getting up from the couch. “Why don’t you lie down for a second, huh? I’m making dinner, I’ll even try one of those recipes your mystery boyfriend taught you.” Just the mention of Tony made him breathe a little easier, even though he wouldn’t be able to see him for a while.

“Okay.” He nodded, smiling softly. MJ took Ned’s place on the couch and he lay down, placing his head on her legs, as she ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed contently and closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. He was close to drifting off when he heard Ned gasp.

“Oh my God,” He breathed quietly from the kitchen and both Peter and MJ looked at him curiously from over the back of the couch.

“What?” She didn’t look too worried, but Peter was concerned about how pale he was.

“Ned, what’s wrong?” He frowned, watching Ned’s horrified expression looking at his phone like it was a murder scene. He raised his eyes and gulped.

“Peter is trending on Twitter,” he whispered, after a while.

“What?!” They both hurried over to the kitchen counter, and the first thing Peter saw when he looked at his phone was a picture of him and Tony in his car, kissing. As Ned scrolled down, more pictures showed up, but not only that, clips of his old videos were all over Twitter, people knew his full name, his real name, and they were making all sorts of comments. Iron Man, Tony Stark, Peter Parker, sex worker, prostitute and porn were trending.

The room was completely silent for a whole minute, before MJ turned on the TV.

“… appear that Tony Stark, former CEO of Stark Industries and retired Avenger, was seen kissing a young man in his car earlier this evening. The person in the pictures seems to be one Peter Parker, a twenty-one year old porn actor, who is also said to work as a prostitute…”

Peter’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach, his vision blurred and he felt bile rising in his throat. He took a deep breath and got up from the couch, ears ringing, as he rushed to the front door.  He heard his friends yelling something, but he couldn’t make out their words, and he just couldn’t deal with all that right then and there.

“I, uhm, I gotta go,” he called from over his shoulder, slamming the door shut on his way out.

As he ran upstairs, vision blurred by tears and chest hurting, begging for oxygen, he couldn’t help but remember his life fell apart in the winter. And fall would be over soon.

-x-

So... It appears that someone has lost the ability to write short chapters... 

Anyways, only three more chapters to go!  🥳

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list):  @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud @staticwhispersinthedark @bluestarker @ whyisthisathingcb

[boymeetsweevil]

SS6 - MYG, FLUFF, 2900w

For @bangtancentricsblogsmain​ because i wanted her to suffer :)

At 3pm, on a Thursday, there’s a knock on Yoongi’s bedroom door. He had come through that very same door not an hour earlier to lock himself away from the world after a particularly draining day. After dropping his bag somewhere on the ground, he showered, removed his contacts, and pushed the laundry waiting to be folded over to the other half of his bed in record time.

Normally he would have joined his roommate and their mutual friend circle who were seated on the couch in the communal living room, eating snacks and watching a game. But this time he begged out with a quiet mumble about needing rest.

When Hoseok knocks, Yoongi makes a feeble sound to signal he’s still, unfortunately, awake.

“What,” Yoongi grumbles. 

He attempts to sit up on one pale elbow and then decides against it. Hoseok’s lips twitch up at how cranky Yoongi is pre-nap before sinking back down as his expression darkens into a pitying and somber mix.

“She’s here. And, uh, she’s asking for you.” Hoseok’s eyes dart back to some unseen spot in the living room.

“Tell her I’m asleep.”

“I know you’re not asleep, Yoongi!” Your voice rings from outside the bedroom and Hoseok cringes sympathetically.

“I’ll just leave,” Hoseok says when you shove your torso through the crack in the doorway.

You wait to start speaking until the bedroom door is shut and the noises from the TV outside wash away.

“Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” is all you get.

The backpack you carry drops unceremoniously to the ground with a thud and any dregs of sleep cloying to Yoongi’s brain vanish with the sound. It’s with a valiant effort that he shoves his face deeper into his pillow. You cock your head to look at your best friend and snort at him.

Yoongi’s glasses are skewed across his face. There are thin pink lines marring the left side of his face from lying pressed to the wrinkled sheets with glasses on. The platinum blond waves of his hair, normally coiffed styled, are squashed flat against his forehead. Rarely ever does he look this rumpled and it’s hilarious.

“That’s okay, I’ll just tell you what I wrote in the texts,” you say as you make your way further into Yoongi’s small room. 

A look down at your feet shows him that you’ve shoved your feet into the pair of bunny slippers he got for guests you when he and Hoseok first moved in almost a year ago.

“Basically,” you continue. “There’s good news and there’s bad news. Pick one.” You help yourself to his desk chair and swivel it so it faces him.

“Bad news first,” Yoongi says after some deliberation. He pulls the covers up to his chin more securely.

“Smart choice,” you nod sagely. “The bad news is I’m gonna have to paint your face.”

“What the hell,” Yoongi barks.

“But the good news is that I have a new job as a face painter at the kids’ section of the farmer’s market this season!”

“How is that good news for me?”

“It means I’ll be slightly less broke and I can stop asking you to buy me breakfast before our 9am.”

Yoongi doesn’t really know whether to laugh or to cry. Firstly, there’s no way in hell he’s letting you paint his face. You’ve always been shit at drawing and letting you showcase that on his skin doesn’t do him any favors. Secondly, he’s in his twenties and he doesn’t even go to the farmer’s market. There’s no reason for him to set foot on the town commons during sunny Saturdays for local produce, much less to get his face painted next to a pen full of smelly goats and screaming kids. He’s just not seeing the connection between you getting this job and him getting his face painted. He stares at you with the hope that you’ll back off but he finds that you’re just blinking back at him with a huge, proud pretty grin.

For a moment Yoongi wants to smile back like things are normal. He wants to put on a groan and act like he’s annoyed that he’s been “forced” to order you sugary coffee drinks and muffins using his own money for longer than he can remember. He wants to gently muss your hair to see you make that cute shocked face you always make. But he can’t. 

Because if he does all that, he might slip up again like he did last weekend. 

At 10:24pm, Friday of last week, Yoongi told you he loved you while one small bottle of liquid courage was sloshing away in his stomach. After seconds of silence ticked by like the bangs of a gong, you replied. A sing-songy ‘Aww. I love you too, Yoongi’ and a light pat on the arm. Your words were basically the mirror image of his, but somehow also starkly different. Disappointment walked him home early that night and embarrassment laid him low the following week.

But it was just a week, he’d reasoned with himself, you’d hardly notice anyway...

“Yoongi? You okay?”

“No,” he hisses and shakes his head gently to dislodge memories of that pathetic weekend.

“Are you sure?”

“Why do you need to paint my face?”

“For practice! The market doesn’t open for another month but I need to get good. Jungkook said that if I do it really well the parents will leave bigger tips.”

“So Jungkook is behind all this.”

“Yeah,” you chirp. “He’s been really helpful in the last week. Usually I’d vent to you about how broke I am but since you were so busy, I ended up hanging out with Kook. He’s honestly really resourceful and he got me the job really fast.”

The hairs on the back of Yoongi’s neck bristle at the mention of the younger “peer”. Jungkook was a constant presence at group hangouts for a long while but Yoongi could only ever think of him as a friend of a friend. There was something smarmy about the guy’s smile that he didn’t like. And the way he was always draping himself over you, teasing you, buying you food that was all his job. He can’t put his finger on what it is exactly, but something about Jungkook always put Yoongi in a shit mood.

Yoongi curses under his breath. “Why couldn’t he get you a job at the cotton candy station or managing the photo booth or something?”

“What’s up with you lately? Do you really hate the idea of helping me that much?”

“It’s just annoying,” Yoongi huffs childishly from under the blanket.

“Fine, I’ll just ask Jungkook, then.”

“No! Wait!” Your eyes flash with hope. “I’ll do it. Just—don’t bother him. Since he already gave you the job, I mean.”

“Oh, thank god. I felt really bad about asking him for even more help.”

You turn around and pull out a face painting kit from thin air and begin scooting the desk chair towards the bed. When you’re close enough, you frown.

“What?” Yoongi sniffs at his sheets for good measure. All clean.

“Nothing. It’s just...” You look down at the ground and then the chair and then at Yoongi before looking at the chair again. “I usually practice on shorter surfaces so I can get used to working with the kids.”

“Oh, just pull the little lever underneath the chair. Raising and lowering the chair is Hoseok’s favorite thing to do when he comes in here, I swear.”

You reach under the seat like Yoongi instructed, find the little lever, and tug. There’s a low hissing sound before the seat suddenly drops 5 inches. You let out a yelp while Yoongi tries to stifle a laugh at your terrified expression.

“I guess—I guess Hoseok pulled the lever too much,” Yoongi’s voice creaks with laughter. Even when you flick him in the forehead he keeps laughing.

“Yoongi, this isn’t funny. I need to practice.”

“Just so you know there’s no way I’m getting on the floor. I’ve changed my clothes and I’m actually in the bed.”

He knows he’s being a bit of a dick at the moment, but he’s only trying to rile you up. He’s not expecting you to start to get up on the bed after flipping him off. The laundry he placed on his bed that morning to force himself to fold now laughs at him from its position shoved against the wall.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I need to be higher than you to paint your face. And you’re not getting up, right?”

“Well, no. But—”

“So this is where I’m gonna work.”

You shrug like it’s not a big deal that you’re straddling him. Like it’s not a big fucking deal that your soft thighs now rest on either side of his torso, that you casually rest a hand on his ribcage while setting up the painting kit along his sternum. He hopes your hand stays further south only to prevent the rapid beating of his heart from being discovered under your palm.

“What design do you want,” your voice is quiet now that you’re closer. 

Makes sense. No need to yell. But it still drives Yoongi crazy that you’re basically whispering in his ear as you lean over him to grab at the unused cup of water behind the bed frame. You revive your paints with the water while he tries to keep his breathing in check, lest he cause your paints to tumble off his torso and stain his sheets in a pastel rainbow.

“Uhh, how about an old style tiger?”

“Really,” you deadpan, “I tell you I’m just starting to learn to paint and you ask for a tiger?”

“Fine. Stars, then.” He gulps when you look right at him, face flushing to create the perfect pink canvas.

“Oh, I can do that. No reference needed.”

It seems deadly quiet in Yoongi’s room. The sounds of the living room long since died down when a crowd favorite started playing and captured everyone’s attention. Now there’s only yours and his intermingled breathing and the sound of your brush tinkling against glass.

You lean down from your perch to focus on carving out a swatch of night sky to blanket Yoongi’s stars. Your breath softly puffs low against his left cheek at the same moment the wet tip of the paintbrush hits his skin. His breath hitches a little and he’s not sure which is the culprit.

“Hold still, okay?” Your words come out in a whisper. 

“Okay,” he whispers back.

Minutes pass and two shaky stars are born on Yoongi’s cheekbone. You shift around on his chest to stabilize yourself and in your movement you lose your footing a little, your right leg slipping off the edge of the mattress.

“Ah—”

“I got you,” Yoongi grunts a little as his hands fly to your hips.

He easily stops your momentum and your paints, clutched desperately in your hands, remain safe from the ground. The pads of his fingers are still dug lightly into the meat of your hips and waist. In that moment you remember just how big Yoongi’s hands are.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem.” 

A slow grin spreads on Yoongi’s face when he notices that suddenly you can’t make eye contact like you were just a few moments prior.

You do your best to continue, but your gaze keeps flitting to his, only to find that he’s already looking at you. It sets something hot aflutter in your chest. The points of the stars that you thought you had a handle on turn soft and wobbly once more. 

“Look up,” you ask when you’re out of other options and keep having to paint over your work.

Yoongi has to bite his tongue to keep from chuckling at how jittery you seem. It feels good to know that the effects of this proximity are mutual, that you’re feeling just as lightheaded from sitting in his lap as he is from having you sit in it.

“You almost done?” He drawls. He’s been counting the small irregularities in the paint on his ceiling to keep entertained.

“Uh, yeah, almost.”

He feels the cold kiss of the brush tip once, twice more before it returns to its makeshift home of the water glass with a clink.

“Do you...wanna see what it looks like,” you sit up then. 

There’s a small hand mirror across the room that you’re eyeing. But he stops you with a squeeze to your hips, reminding you that his hands have been resting there this whole time.

“Just use my phone,” he nods to the device lying abandoned in the sheets. “Take a picture.”

“Okay.”

For some reason, your hands are shaking even with the paintbrush gone and the need for focus lifted. Mechanically you wake Yoongi’s phone from sleep and access the camera app to take a photo, shifting your weight to your knees to get above him and snap a pic. Curiosity makes you open the photo album app to see the photo you just took instead of showing it to him first. The result takes your breath away. 

Yoongi looks blissfully content, almost smugly so, as he gazes up at the camera. The stars under his eyes and on the bridge of his nose look like glowing yellow freckles amidst the banner of deep navy and rich purples you used to craft the sky across his cheekbones. The paint looks good and it’s probably even your best job yet, but you can’t help yourself from looking elsewhere.

Yoongi’s tousled bed head, soft sleep shirt, and dreamy eyes bring a cloud of butterflies to your stomach. The final killer touch of the photo is the fact that your knees just barely enter the bottom of the photo. Yoongi’s hands rest on each one like they belong there.

“Yoongi.” You breathe his name like a sigh and that’s when he surges up, as if to catch his name on your lips.

The kiss takes you by surprise and you tumble down to him in a soft pile of limbs. He hums a long, pleased sound when your weight settles on top of him. The hands he had on your knees suddenly grow restless and they amble up your thighs, up your waist, around your back. His hands are ever busy gliding over as much of you as they can in the moments that you let your lips press firmly against his.

Idly you pick out the details you notice with your eyes drifting closed. Yoongi’s breath leaves his nose in puffs against your face and his sighs echo quiet in your ears. His hair is soft between your fingers and so is the collar of the worn shirt that he’s wearing. The sheets that have raised around you like makeshift linen mountains smell just like Yoongi’s sweet soap, warmed with sleep.

“Shouldn’t we—”, he plants a kiss on your mouth, “shouldn’t we talk about this,” you mumble against his lips.

Yoongi’s hands stop in their tracks along the midpoint of your spine. The sigh he lets out is long suffering.

“Sorry. I just—I got carried away.”

“I mean, you don’t have to apologize for it. I just...thought you saw me as a friend.”

“Do friends confess their love for each other? That’s new.”

“L-love?” Your eyes turn wide and starry. “When have either of us ever confessed our love?”

“Well, I did. At the bar. Or did you have to block that memory out?”

Your brow furrows at the self-deprecating turn his smile takes and you clasp one of his still-wandering hands.

“You mean—Yoongi, I thought you were just being mushy. I thought you meant, like, ‘I love that we’re all here together as friends right now’. If I had known that was a real confession,” you trail off.

“You what?” 

Yoongi’s mood elevates once more, enjoying the sudden turn your rambling is taking. Teasingly he bucks his hips under you, startling you out of your bashful silence and forcing you to press two hands to his chest for balance. A cute little sound leaves your lips and he’s tempted to do it again.

“You were saying,” he grins up at you and his hands start to wander once again.

“I would have—”

“Baby, speak up.” He’s all coos but there’s a little venom in his voice. He likes how embarrassed you are.

“I would have left with you that night. If I had known.”

His shirt wrinkles up where your fingers twist anxiously. Normally you trample through Yoongi’s space, no shame or hesitation in the way you leave him on his toes. It had always been a fun game for you to see how close you could get before he’d have to draw a line, before his besotted smile would become too hard to hide. But now you’re not so sure you can handle it directed at you in all its glory.

“That’s a nice idea,” he says. 

In one moment he looks like he’s really weighing the idea, serious in his appraisal. The next moment he’s tugging you down when you least expect it, bringing a corner of the blanket to envelope you both. Under the cover of weak darkness, he threads a hand through the hair at the base of your neck. 

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

[highonchocolate]

Take Two: The Guardian in Gotham Chapter 3

First   Previous   Next   Ao3

Bruce sat at the head of the long oak dining table and waited for his children to make their way into the room for dinner. They came in as a staggered group; Jason arguing about some novel with Dick while Tim and Damian brought up the back as they discussed their patrol routes for the night. After Alfred and Damian helped serve the food, Bruce cleared his throat pointedly and waited for everyone to pay attention. 

Once everyone had looked up from their discussions he spoke. “Alfred has a friend named Gina; and she had called this evening to see if her granddaughter could stay with us. She lives in Paris; but her classmates were bullying her and her parents thought a change of scenery would do her some good. I have agreed to let her stay with us in the Manor.” Even before he had finished speaking the table erupted with different questions from his children.

“Bruce are you sure this is wise?” Tim questioned over Dick’s ecstatic squealing (“I’ve always wanted a little sister!!!”), and Jason’s grumbling (“Shut the fuck up Dickhead. I don’t know why the fuck B is bringing someone into this house to live with this dysfunctional family.”). Ignoring his siblings; he pressed on “I mean, how are we going to hide Batman and the vigilante stuff from her?” As Bruce paused to answer Damian stood up and scowled. “Tt. This is a moronic decision. Inform me of when this girl is to arrive and inform  her to stay out of my way.” He lifted his chin and crossed his arms before marching out of the room.

After Damian’s outburst, Jason looked over from where he was arguing with Dick and added his input “Timbo’s right, B. How are we going to hide that from her?” 

“We’ll have to make sure at least two of you remain in the manor each night so that she doesn’t get too suspicious.” He answered. “Now, the only reason I agreed to letting her stay here was namely for Alfred, and also because of what her classmates did to her” 

“What do you mean, Bruce?” Dick questioned. “Did they like assault her or something?”

“Or something” He responded grimly before sending the photo to all three of them. 

As they looked at the photo, he observed their reactions to the image. Dick was not smiling for once, and his sunny blue eyes had darkened to an icy frost. His whole body was tense; and his jaw was so clenched his teeth were grinding together. Jason was standing up with two guns locked and loaded in his hands. He had also managed to procure a knife from somewhere, which appeared as he leant forward and asked “What were the names of the people who did this again?” in a completely lethal tone. Tim, already hacking away at his computer responded “Not there yet, but from what I can find out, she goes to College Francois DuPont and she’s fifteen.” He briefly looked up and made eye contact with Bruce before asking “How fast do you think we can get our lawyers onto those kids B?” At the declarations of his children, Bruce closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “We can not file any lawsuits yet, not without Marinette’s permission.” He answered, sighing tiredly. “Marinette?” Dick questioned. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Tim responded instantly. “That’s her name.” 

“She will be coming on Monday, and Alfred will be picking her up from the airport. She is also going to attend GA, so someone please tell Damian.” Bruce said as he stood from the table. “Now hurry up, we have patrol tonight, and there have been rumors about a drug ring near Crime Alley.”

---

After coming back from the hospital and having a sleepover Thursday night, Chloé and Adrien were completely sleep-deprived as they trudged into school the next morning. Settling into her usual seat beside Sabrina, Chloé silently thanked all the Kwami that she didn’t have to sit next to Lila. Halfway though class, Mrs. Bustier suddenly frowned and looked at the back row. “Does anyone know where Marinette is? She still hasn’t arrived yet!”

“Probably still sleeping at home! She’ll come in completely late as usual!” Alya cackled. At her words, Chloé felt her entire body heat up with righteous indignity. She opened her mouth to tell that wannabe tabloid reporter to get her facts straight, but then Adrien caught her eye and shook his head. He then pointed at his phone, and mimed unlocking it before pointing to her. Catching the hint, she checked her messages to see that Marinette had sent them a text.

FashionableBug: Mari said to tell Chloé and Adrien not to do anything to Lila or anyone else that starts making stuff up. (From Luka btw)

You’reUnderAgreste: Me-ouch, My Lady. I would never!

QueenofMean: shut it with the puns, Noir. Maribug, I will only listen to you because you’re injured and I’m not going to go against your wishes.

Putting her phone away, Chloé resigned herself to a miserable school day. 

---

After school, she walked into Marinette’s room and flopped dramatically onto the chaise, before letting out a long groan.

“That bad?” Mari chuckled as she scribbled sketched one-handedly in her design notebook. 

“You have no idea.” Chloé responded. 

Their conversation continued into mundane things, such as everyone’s patrol routes, and various theories on who Hawkmoth was. Totally normal topics for teenagers. As the day drew to a close, they made plans for everyone to come over to start packing the next day before Chloé left the bakery and headed home.

---

Come Saturday, Marinette, Chloé and Luka spent the morning playing board games one handed “to level the playing field” as Luka put it and eating lots of cookies and pastries-provided by Marinette’s parents of course. Adrien and Kagami were attending their various classes until afternoon, so the remaining three spent their time relaxing, and coming up with a list of things to pack for Mari’s stay in Gotham. Two o’ clock rolled around, and the bells over the bakery jingled to announce the arrival of the final members of the packing committee.  

Any plans to begin their assignment of somehow fitting all Marinette’s fabrics into the suitcase were cut short by an Akuma. 

They all transformed, even though Kagami and Luka has been  extremely reluctant to let Mari go even though the suit temporarily healed her injuries. Climbing through her roof hatch, they set out across the rooftops to defeat their latest villain.

---

Five hours later, the teen heroes dropped into her room, and detransformed in various flashes of multicolored lights. They collapsed onto the bed and chairs and silently agreed to just  sleep , and get the packing done the next day.

---

All of Sunday was spent throwing various clothes and accessories into Mari’s pink and black suitcase. There were several sweaters and hoodies (added by Chloé), as well as several leggings and many thick pajama pants (Sabine).

Adrien (with the help of Tom) had somehow managed to pack over ten different pun-covered t-shirts, and by the time they were discovered, they had been buried under piles upon piles of fluffy socks from Kagami. Luka also threw in some scarves before Marinette added some toiletries, her sewing kit, and her computer.

Picking up the backpack she had decided to use as a carry-on, Marinette rifled through it to make sure she had everything in there as well.

Spare change of clothes in case she loses her suitcase? Check. Phone, headphones, and charger? Check. Sketchbook and pencils? Check. Disguised Miracle Box? Check.

She turned to her family (Not her teammates, not her friends, but her family.) and smiled. It was small, and bittersweet, but it was a smile. “Alright guys, I guess I’m all set.” She said, before joining them all in a group hug. They offered her soft, tearful smiles before Tom carried her big suitcase down the stairs. 

That night, Marinette fell asleep surrounded by all the people she loved, and she couldn’t have been happier.

---

The next day, her Papa carried her downstairs and placed her into her wheelchair (since she had a broken foot, and couldn’t use her leg, they had given her a wheelchair) before wheeling her outside and placing her into the car waiting by the street. 

Her friends were all inside, and she gripped Adrien’s hand tightly as they drove to the airport. 

As she stood to board the plane, she turned back to catch one last glimpse of them all. Chloé was leaning into Kagami’s side who was holding her girlfriend’s hand tightly. Adrien was waving wildly, and Luka and her parents all raised one hand in farewell. Her Maman and Papa has some red rimming their eyes, but they smiled at her as she was wheeled into the plane. Next stop: Gotham, New Jersey.

Since her flight left Paris at 10 AM, she was set to arrive in Gotham at around 12 PM/noon. With that in mind, she decided to stay awake for the entire flight so that her body could adjust better. 

As they crossed the Atlantic, Marinette, sitting in first class thanks to Chloé and Adrien’s combined nagging; popped her earbuds in, and began to sketch. 

She stared out the window as she touched down, shocked by all the dog and darkness in the city. As she collected her bags, and wheeled her way outside to look for her host family, she couldn’t help but notice how everyone in this city was much more on edge than most normal people. ‘They act as though they are expecting an attack at any second of the day.’ She mused to herself. Her train of thought was cut off by the sight of an elderly man with a powerful aura standing next to a limo with a sign saying “Marinette Dupain-Cheng”. She wheeled her way over to him and smiled brightly. “Salut! My name is Marinette! What is yours, Monsieur!” She questioned, holding out her hand for a handshake.

“It’s lovely to meet you Miss Marinette, my name is Alfred Pennyworth.” Alfred responded, smiling gently down at her. “Now let’s get you and your bags in the car, shall we?” He reaches out to shake her hand, and the moment their fingers touched her vision was filled with dark blue and red. She laughed and smiled up at him. “It is an honor to meet you, noble Peacock.” She greeted him in the Guardian language, honoring his position as a True Holder. “And it is an honor to meet you as well, Ladybug.” He answered. She grinned and allowed him to help her into the back of the limo before he climbed into the driver's seat and they sped off to Wayne Manor. 

---

When he saw the young girl, Alfred was shocked to say the least. She was roughly 5’ 4” (162.5 cm), and was very petite. Her stature, combined with her wheelchair, wrist brace, and the cast on her leg, all strengthened his resolve to protect the young girl from any further harm. That was only intensified when their auras recognized each other. How could anyone place the responsibility of upholding balance on such a young child? 

As he drove to the Manor, she informed him that the Cat, Bee, Dragon and Snake were active on her team. Before he could ask her what the threat they were battling was, they had arrived at the Manor, and she had immediately tensed and gone silent.

Deciding that it was better to ask more questions later, he got out of the car to retrieve her bags and chair. Master Bruce and three of his children except for Master Damian were waiting in front of the doors to the Manor, and they all waited patiently for her as she exited the car. 

---

Marinette was nervous. Sure, taking to Monsieur Alfred was really fun, and she couldn’t wait to tell him more about Paris, but now she was meeting her actual host family! What if they didn’t like her? What if they decided to send her back?! Then what would she do?? A small cough interrupted her downward spiral, and she looked up from her lap to see Monsieur Alfred waiting in front of the open door with her wheelchair. Grabbing her backpack, she awkwardly maneuvered herself into the chair and allowed herself to be wheeled out in front so she could meet Monsieur Bruce Wayne.

---

Note: Alfred doesn’t know that Marinette is the Guardian. He just knows she’s a Ladybug holder.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Monday 5 January 1835

8 50

11 ¾

Very quiet good kiss last night  very fine sunny morning - hard frost - F35° now at 9 35 in my study at which hour went down to breakfast - sat over it above an hour - John Pearson came about (before) 11 and staid till 12 40 ostensibly to know if he should convince me by giving up the Mytholm land on Wednesday and taking the valuation of the tenant to pay the rent and receiving the over-plus – said I was very much obliged to him but that as to draining or ploughing which he thought I should be glad to begin of immediacy I did not mean to trouble myself about either and would rather he paid his rent to my father as usual and left me to settle about the land when the time came that I should in fact leave this matter to Mr Washington whom I thought he Pearson would understand better than he might understand me – that I had mentioned to W- sometime ago that I did not want the skin pits and should not to take them in the valuation P- seemed disappointed at this - said I had promised to take them - at least desired to have them valued - explained that I had certainly not promised to take them -had fancied P- and I should agree and then would have paid him for all before his signing the lease, but should certainly not buy the pits when I had no use for them - it at last came out, P- wanted Dewhirst to have them - I then explained that I would have nothing to do with Mrs. Dewhirst nor with her son in his present circumstances but that if he married and P- thought him likely to be steady, and would help him, I had no objection to let him the buildings - P- knew he (Dewhirst) had offered £20 per annum for them but I said nothing about  - John Pearson for Dewhirst about Mytholm farm - the amount of rent - said I would not have it on my conscience to make D- marry if he did not like it, but that I would not take him as a tenant so long as he continued unmarried - P- was at liberty to tell him this or not just as he (P-) liked - P- said ‘they would help him’ and he believed him to be steady and wishful to do well, and that he would have married long since, but his mother would not let him - P- at last (becoming very civil and hoping nothing disagreeable between us would be any more thought of) talked of taking a field or 2 of me for summering - I said I was in no hurry about letting - this could be talked of by and by - he then thought one of his sons might be wanting a farm, and hoped I should make no objection - said merely no! I should make no objections to anyone who would be a good tenant and pay a fair rent but I could not afford to let undervalue - P- wished I would not let so dear - I explained and he owned people must pay for situation and  that Mytholm was a very good situation - said I should never want a skinner at the old buildings and if I built new ones for the land it would do very well - then had Joseph Mann about coals for fire-light at night - said Holt had promised to come this afternoon - he (Mann) would inquire the price of iron rails and be back to meet Holt at 4 - with my father and Marian till 2 (from 1 40 to 2) explained what I had said to Pearson with which both seem well satisfied – Marian hoped it would not be inconvenient to me not to be able to see my father 4 evenings per week! Because Thursdays always engaged (A.B. comes) and Fridays and Saturdays and Sundays should have Miss Sarah Inman for whom it was not good to be constantly at school (Miss Walkinson’s) – said oh! No! no inconvenience to me – I never did make and never intended to make difficulties – I only hoped my father understood the thing – oh! Yes! Marian said, she had explained it all to him – I then turned to him laughingly and, said, I found Marian was going to have so much  company I could not come to him Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays but A- and I would be very glad if he would come in to us and we would have a good fire for him – then at 1 50 came upstairs to A- explained – told what Marian had said - A- as much astonished as I was – we got out at 2 –down the walk along the Lower brea road thro’ the German House fields to Hopkins’ – the sister better – thence to Hove edge to Mrs Ann Lee’s to see her old oak bedstead – about 3 centuries old? Her mother not inclined to sell it, but if she did sell it, I to have the 1st refusal – she gave no idea what she thought it worth – to ask (for me) the price of an old oak chair she knew of but not to mention my name – returned by Hove houses and yew-trees wood lane – passed Moseys (the joiners’) his man said the hunters had found the 1st hare in a field close by (one of Macaulay’s) and only followed their game thro’ yew-trees wood – had not ranged or found anything there – this was mentioned incidentally – called at Barber’s (in yew-trees wood) in passing – Barber  not at home but his wife said he was at dinner when the hunters came and did not see them in the wood – then got into the new road at Hipperholme lane ends – home thro’ the walk at 5 – I went to talk to John about carting coals for the drift – thinks he can do it – then went to the drift - a good fire – had had 2 wheelbarrows of coal (i.e. not quite 2 corves) which will last 2 nights - John brings 8 corves at a time at 6d.= 4/. + turnpikes 10d = 4/10 - had had letter that waited my return from W.F. Holroyde for the chairman of Mr. Wortley’s committee dated at the Talbot Inn to ask me to get John Bottomley to go down to give a plumper for W- as soon as possible in the morning - to go first to the magistrates’ office at Wards end - sent John Booth to JB-‘s to speak to him - he was not returned from

Marian’s engagements

coals for the drift

 SH:7/ML/E/17/0138

  H-x - had had 2 letters one telling him to go to the Talbot the other telling him to go to the White Swan - she was going to H-x to see him and would send him here on his return home - not JB- by , so sent George to inquire again about him, and to tell John Booth to be after him (J. Bottomley) by 5am tomorrow and take care of his plumping for Wortley -came in a little before 6 – dinner at 6 25 – dessert – coffee –then A- and I with my father and Marian ¼ hour till came upstairs at 8 – wrote out today – with my aunt about 20 minutes or more till 10 10 – she pretty well -  A- never well in very frosty weather so not quite well today in spite of her walk which however did not tire her much - very fine day - hard frosty - fire all day in the library stove so that F40° in my study at 10 10 tonight.

[scrawnytreedemon]

Glory, glory, glory, call the Bells of Hyrule Castle Town, And how sweetly they ring, Under the screams of a populace Sent into a blind fervour, Victory is mine, and it's so Sour it's sweet,

The halls are long and winding, Matroned by suits of armour and Moth-eaten carpets, flattened by the Work of many feet, their rotting threads Worth the endeavours of my people A thousandfold, So I relieve them of their paintings, Strip the stands of their armour to give to My troops, set new candles in these Chandeliers, bejewelled, It's a Thursday when they're lit the first Time in my honour, for all my work, Hyrule Castle is mine, and it's a bitch To keep, always moaning, groaning, For wash, for care, for repair, And care I give, in droves,

It's almost easy to forget there's, by some Technicality, a war going on outside, a war against One, maybe two senseless renegades, It's easy to forget, even after we lift the forged-Twilit barrier, glistening like carved gold, Nothing really happens here, and that, dear Companion, is bliss. Honestly, my boy, have some Cake, our foes are small and a ways off yet, There's no good in rushing, not unless you wish To throw yourself on the blade of his sword, Then be my guest, I'd say, if I were cruel and unyielding, But I love you so, little prodigy, little usurper of mine Nestled b'neath my wing, and I know I did good In choosing you,

But you don't wait, you don't eat cake, All you think is war, and how to win it, and I wonder then if you'll ever learn to enjoy its spoils, But that is your endeavour, and not mine, And a good teacher always lets his students Trip, as long as there's soft ground to fall on, And there is, in abundance, I can rest knowing you'll be fine,

So I tend to my garden, and recline in the Fruit of their beds, when my work pays off And the weather is nice, But I suppose my idea of nice weather differs From yours, and I can't help laughing when You rush to get me out of my wet robes, Yammering on about sickness and disease, Of my poor, poor heart, and how it's Constantly straining under the sheer bulk Of my form, My love, of this, we have not to worry, Do you remember not the pact we made, Swearing that we'd never die? We'll never die, my dear, Not in any way that matters,

I clean the windows, and leaf through the Endless pages of the castle library, It's been centuries, since I could read like This, with such leisure, with no urgency, And it bores me, I'm restless, My hands twitch and fiddle, and I rise Constantly, hoping foolishly in doing so I'd find something new, eventually, I think incorporeality has weakened me, Dear friend, its taste souring every Sweetness of the flesh, And nothing deigns to ease its note,

But I'm insistent, insistent on Living life, daily, wholly, or close, I didn't conquer for conquering's sake, My boy, I conquered to live, to build Anew a life for me and my kind, And though their voices are now mere Hums in the desert wind, they live on Through me, through you, my boy, You know the insignia on your robes Has meaning, don't you?

The people cower and quiver, though Soon enough I hope they'll realise They're to be treated with respect, I shudder to think what horrors I could've Wrought, had I come to such a height In days younger, the burns of Hyrule's Great sins a many still fresh on my Sun-kissed skin,

Oh, boy, dear boy, though you smother it The ardour of youth lives on in you yet! And it is wonderful as it is dangerous, Temper it with my counsel, so that it may Grow into a resolve firm and straight by your Old age, Hah! You don't like the thought of that, do you, Your lithe, nymph-like form with its smooth Skin and feline grace withering? Oh stop it, I know you meant it not a slight against me, A slight not it was taken. You worry so, It ought to be your heart of concern, not mine, Because if there's one thing I know, it's that Fear eats, student steadfast, fear gnaws The threads of ones psyche, Are you sure you don't want tea?

But you're off again before I can come Once more, off to twist the path of the hero With your own hands, and I'm left in the Dark of the tearoom, the rain lashing in Torrents outside, wondering someday if Children, yours or mine, will race down these Palace halls. You're young still, my prodigy, My progeny via this legacy of deceit, Find a nice girl, build a dynasty while you can, I get the feeling my cousin would've endeared you,

It's late into the night, when you return, Sopping wet, not looking even half as Triumphant as you claim to be, Oh, pity, come sit by me, if either of us Were so inclined, I might even suggest You lay your head on my lap,

Hah! You don't like the thought of that, either, I wonder, what things do they teach young Men like you about intimacy, over there? All touch is sacred, my boy, and none of it Is to be soiled by careless caresses, do you Hear me?

But come now, sit by the fire, as ease yourself as Close or as distant as your heart desires, Let me make fellowship with you, friend, We can even pretend to pray, I curry Din's favour, how about you? Ah, none. Bitter yet, I take it? Not to worry, I am, too,

We spend a few days like this, a few weeks, Maybe even a month or two, It's hard to tell, when you're my age, Everything blurs together like smudged ink, Whatever the length, it was too short, As soon as you caught wind of further Moving from that wretched pair, you set off For your palace,

I wish you'd taken the time to say goodbye, I wish I'd made you.

Everything came crumbling down after that, You should've stayed, stayed by my side, There isn't enough time, isn't enough time For you to knit yourself back together, If only these damn brats would slow, then I'd have time! Time, time, time, so little time, Where did it all go? It seemed more than content To linger when all was well, Maybe all was well because it lingered, Perhaps I'm being abandoned, hah, Hold on tight, I beg of you,

All of this, all we made, all we wrought, all We founded, the carpets set down, the armour Given to warriors mighty, the chandeliers Polished and lit anew, the garden I grew, Waiting for a time I could spend at ease with you, All of it's falling apart, Recipes written, never to be cooked, Robes set to be woven for balls never thrown, The piano, the mahogany piano I set in the Room we'd have had them, knowing how much You loved to play, How on one, sunny afternoon I urged you to Sing, despite your mumbles and your Protests of 'really, my Lord, I'm not very good,' How wrong you were, Oh, how wrong you were, How wrong I was, thinking we could bide our Time, and forge memories sweeter a Thousandfold,

The door creaks open with a screech, Didn't I have that oiled? They walk in without a second glance, There's mud on the floor, I just had that washed, I wonder, what did they do to the Carpets?

It's not to him I look, but her, He is but a tool, a ploy, and I Wonder what on earth about him Ever struck you as Breathtaking? As worthy of Your efforts,

She ruins the castle in her wrath, She's crushed with ease, her Power dead and gone, Dead and gone, dead and gone, None of it makes up for even A fraction of the pain of losing you, All that's left are these two whelps, And my resolve to crush them,

It rains in our battle, the ground Slippery and sodden, I've seen More water this autumn than I ever Did in all my years back home, We began this last year in the summer, Didn't we? Or was it the year before That, I can't tell, I can't tell, not when Everything blurs together like smudged Ink on a thickly-margined parchment, His sword clangs sharply against mine, And I wonder if he even had the decency To let you die against it, Let you die a Noble death, But I shan't be owed mine, I shan't, I have the power of the gods at my Behest, my patron Din, Goddess of Might and Forger of Worlds, And what is he, what is he but a Farmhand with old clothes and A fancy sword?

A hero, apparently.

I watch your neck snap, in the Fading light.

We die standing.

—What We Made in Hyrule Castle

[shinymooncolor]

Hi! So...

Here’s a little chat for you all this fine Sunday. Wasn’t sure I wanted to write more but after encouragement and support from @frombeauxbatons and @canesinthecrease and my favorite Rae of sunshine - I wanted to share this little thing.

As always, @lumosinlove has given us these amazing oc’s and sweater weather 💖

—

Olli is introduced to a special group. Kuny is lost. Nado has great abs. Kasey is amazed. Sergei is one incident from moving to Siberia. Sunny has a lot of fun. Dumo is still a dad. He can’t help it. He really can’t. Sergei and Kuny text in Russian (just pretend and play along please). I want to be their cat. Sex dreams are discussed.

—

Wednesday 3.02 am

Olli: sergei. Pick up

Olli: sergeiiiii

Olli: pick up.

Olli: code red

Sergei: someone be dead or I’m kill someone

Sergei: it’s 3 am

Olli: Kuny is missing

Sergei: where r u

Olli: their house. Nado is freaking out. Police might be involved

Sergei: give me 15

——

Wednesday 7.22 am

Dumo: did you find him?

Olli: yes.

Dumo: what happened?

Sergei: I’m kill him.

Olli: Nado called me at 3. Said Kuny was missing. I went over there and he was actually missing and they were even sober.

Dumo: where did you find him?

Olli: he was lost in the woods behind their street. Apparently he woke up when he heard a cat and he followed the sound because he thought it was princess in distress and he got lost but he did find a mama cat with tiny kittens and he got lost and of course didn’t bring his phone. He didn’t want to leave the kittens and cat and because he’s a freaky caveman he just decided to stay in the woods until someone found him.

Sunny: how did you find him?

Sergei: gps in his watch. He like baby bird. Get lost all time

Dumo: you track him? 😂

Sunny: good call. That’s what the disaster twin rescue squad is for

Sergei: I’m not want cat. He show picture to anya. Now I’m have 7 kitty and cat. I move to Siberia

Olli: hehehehe Sergei grounded him. But anya sort of undermined him by making us pancakes

—-

Friday 8.22 pm

Dumo: what just happened?

Olli: I am not sure.

Sergei: girl punch Nado? What Kuny say? They hug him and leave?

Sunny: oh. That was Vladimir

Dumo: who’s Vladimir?

Sunny: apparently it’s nado’s gay lover... when he’s messed up with girls and needs an excuse...

Dumo: they don’t know who either of them are?

Sunny: dumo my friend. We’re in la. No one knows who we are here. Haha.

Dumo: strong move.

Sunny: he’s a russian mobster. It’s fun - ask Kuny to tell you about him. Very entertaining.

Sergei: he is idiot. Embarrassed.

—-

Monday 11.20 pm

Nado: hi. Dumo. Hypothetical question

Dumo: what did you do. Do you need me to call a lawyer ? do you need me to bribe someone with tickets? Are you hurt? Will I get in trouble?

Nado: no.

Nado: So hypothetically if someone accidentally set off the alarms at the rink? How bad would it be?

Dumo: what? Nado what did you do?

Nado: it’s not my fault. I forgot my lucky boxers. Had to go back and get them. Guys switched alarm on and I’m trapped in the toilet in the locker room

Dumo: why were you in the bathroom?

Nado: my abs looked good.

Dumo: so?

Nado: I had to gift the world with that. It’s like criminal if I don’t share my abs with the world

Dumo: I’ll call management. Stay where you are.

Nado: too late. Dumo. They have tasers. They won’t taze me? Dumo

—-

Thursday 9.11 am

Z: is it bad if you have a sex dream about someone’s mother?

S: who?

Z: nado’s mom.

S: why are you telling me this.

S: it’s too early to deal with this.

Z: I don’t have anyone else to ask. He would hit me.

S: I’m not your dad.

Z: you promised mama you’d care for me

S: I promised to take care of you when you were a gangly rookie at 19 who only knew the words fuck, sex, pass, puck and Tupperware.

Z: I’m still your kid. Anya call me son and your kids are siblings to me. Help me or I’ll tell Anya you lie about late workouts when you, Sunny, Brady and dumo have your poker nights.

S: alright. Fine. If you want to do this. What happened?

Z: I mean I wasn’t having sex with her in the dream but I wanted to. She’s hot.

S: just let it go zhenya. It’s just a dream. Don’t get weird about it.

Z: you’re not helping.

—-

Olli: why are they fighting now?

Sergei: z had dream about nado’s mom.

Sunny: uh hahahahaha that’s awkward

Dumo: why did he tell him?

Olli: it’s fun to watch. When do we intervene?

Dumo: only if they become a danger to their game. Or someone else

Olli: so we’re not worried about the most passive aggressive game of loopin Louis I’ve ever seen?

Sunny: if they move on to darts we intervene. Oh. Kuny broke the game.

Sergei: I go pay bartender.

Sunny: I’ll throw in their kryptonite

Olli: what? What’s the kryptonite

Dumo: we tell them someone was hitting on Marlene. Nothing unites those two idiots than the chance to defend a damsel in distress.

Sunny: I don’t think she’s ever been a damsel or in distress. She once offered to show me how to use a melon scooper as a weapon.

—-

Blizzard: you guys won’t believe what I just witnessed

Timmyforrealz : is it sexy stuff?

Blizzard: no.

Blizzard: I was dropping by the disaster den to pick up my keyboard. Kuny kept getting booty calls

Ollibear; that’s nothing new? We once had to postpone halo night cause he was having some weird really loud sex

Blizzard; he said no

Dumodad: is he sick?

Bradygunz: @russiangod u ok?

Sunnysideup: I just dropped my favorite mug. Is he ok? Is he dying? Did his dick die? Is Kuny jr dead?

Blizzard: he said and I quote “I not see u anymore. My cat not ready for commitment”

Blizzard: it wasn’t even a euphemism. He literally said no to a booty call to have dinner with his cat. Nado too. They had candles, the cat has a freaking seat at the table with her own plate. They had their food service deliver a tuna steak for her

Sergei_81: idiots

Ollibear: it’s cute. Can cats eat tuna?

Russiangod: Princess only lady in our life.

Nadotheman: you’re all just jealous.

Prongstar: so you use your cat as an excuse to get out of relationships?

Nadotheman: she is the best investment we ever made. And that includes the massage chairs and our cinema screen

—

[wtfevenismypage]

Sunny Woods

Request: Random idea but an x male reader where Spencer and the reader go up north to a cabin somewhere because the reader loves the outdoors and the solitude of being in the woods and thinks Spencer will like it so they go and Spence is not the biggest fan of it at first but starts to like it better cause he gets to relax with no distractions (other than his boyfriend doing yard work and matenince and Spence comes back to the BAU sun burned and covered in scratches from walking through the woods

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, brief mentions of sex, Brief mentions of death

You kept begging Spencer throughout the evening that you two should go to your cabin in the woods for your two week break. It was perfect, a sunny mountain area with a lake and plenty of gorgeous forest to get lost in. 

“Please Spencer? Just for a week, and if you don’t like it by then, we’ll go down to Vegas like usual okay?”

He groans, leaning his head on the block between your desks.

“If I say yes, it will be a one time thing.”

You cheer, shooting up and cheering as Spencer chuckles.

“I’ve done the impossible! You will all refer to me as master of the world! Except for you Hotch I don’t want my boss calling me master!”

Everyone laughs, even Hotch, and you plop back down, holding Spencer’s hand in yours, delivering a kiss to the back of it. 

You loved the outdoors, and by the end of the week, Spencer was going to love the outdoors too.

-

-

-

-

-

When you and Spencer arrived at the cabin, you giggled, watching him take in the scenery of trees around him with a grimace. 

“Relax my moody boyfriend, you will love it.”

-

-

-

-

-

That day you spent inside with Spencer, attempting to get him outside, but he remained reluctant to the forest. He opted to stay inside and cuddle all day instead. 

That night was spent by you fucking the shit out of Spencer, but you had him promise you that he would let you take him outside tomorrow first. 

It worked, you fucked him until you both came copious amounts of cum, and the next day you went canoeing.

He fucking hated it. Complained the entire time, went on about some water facts and how many canoe related deaths there was per year.

“Spencer, if you keep thinking about all of that stuff you’re only going to psych yourself out. Relax and row.”

He muttered some sort of petty insult under his breath, but you only smiled, only able to imagine the annoyed face he had on his face  behind you.

When the two of you reached the tiny waterfall, he tried steering backwards, but you raged on.

“Babe please! No-”

You gushed down the waterfall, the two of you screaming like children, but once you reached a steady balance, you broke out into breathy laughter, turning around to deliver a kiss to Spencer’s lips.

“Was that so bad pretty boy?”

He smiled, pressing his lips to yours again.

“I guess not.”

By the third day of your trip you were exhausted of being dragged outside by Spencer. Since the waterfall incident,  he’s been outside all the time, spending most of it on the lake.

“Spencer, I know I’m the one that suggested this whole going out to the cabin in the woods, but can we please spend one day inside? Please baby?”

He agreed, and the two of you spent the day in bed, having hot steamy sex almost ten times. Your dick was so sensitive by just the third time, the tip a shiny pink as he squeezed it tightly, making you cum all over his hands.

And by the end of the week, you ended up staying. 

“You sure you want to stay Spencer? We don’t have to baby.”

You said at the clothing store as Spencer was trying on a few different outfits. Since he was only planning on staying a week, he had to purchase new clothes for the rest of the week. 

“Why don’t we just wash your clothes that you brought?”

“You mean the sweaters and vests I brought to a place where it’s constantly over a hundred degrees? Yeah sure.”

You laugh, watching him put on a pair of khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. and damn he looked good in it.

“Oh you are definitely keeping this look. It looks sexy as hell on you good sir.”

He smiled, bringing your lips to his in a quick yet passionate kiss.

On Thursday, you and Spencer took a walk in the woods, being alone in a cabin in the woods was perfect for the two of you. You two were always super cuddly and lovey, but Spencer wasn’t a huge fan of pda.

So now, the two of you could be as touchy as your hearts desired without having to worry. 

And oh boy you were touchy. You two, ever the mutts in heat, fucked several times against trees, by a campfire, on the canoe in the lake, on the canoe on land, on the dock next to the lake, pretty much anywhere.

“How the fuck did we get lost?”

“We aren’t lost, we’re just misplaced!”

“Spencer that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“Well it’s the truth.”

You two managed to find your way home that evening, seeing numerous messages from the team saying they needed your help on a case.

“Well, it was a great week and a half while it lasted.”

You held his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss to his sunny warm skin.

-

-

-

-

-

When the two of you returned to the office, everyone smirked at the sight of a lobster red Spencer in a pair of khakis and a Hawaiian shirt.

“Hey lover boys. I see you two had fun.”

“Ha ha. We were having lots of fun until we had to come in and deal with serial killers. As you can see, I managed to get Spencer outside, and then you call us in.”

Morgan laughs, nodding at Spencer.

“You let your little boyfriend turn you into an outdoors person?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your temple.

“Yeah well, anything for him.”

[dameronology]

one helluva week {obi-wan x reader}

just a domestically fluffy drabble with obi-wan kenobi both for anon and also lowkey for me cos i am not having a fun time of it right now and i need some comfort 

enjoy,

- val xx 

It was one of those weeks.

You were doing fine. 

Seriously, you were doing fine. 

A little wobbly, perhaps. There had been a few tears here and there but for the most part, you had made this week your bitch. Aside from a minor incident involving an unsuspecting Padawan, a candle and some robes, everything had been going great. Oh, and there was the little mishap with your lightsaber and the wall. Then you’d submitted your ten-thousand-word risk assessment entirely in Wingdings. Mace Windu was less than pleased about that. When the fifteen-minute-speech on why Times New Roman was the only acceptable font had sent you to sleep, that had only made things worse.

Yup. Totally fiiiiine. 

By Thursday, your arse had been thoroughly kicked to the ground by whichever evil deity in the sky had it out for you. The fact your schedule consisted mostly of long-meetings and intense training didn’t exactly uplift your mood either. The weekend could not have come quicker and yet, it felt like it was slipping away from you with each passing second. You couldn’t tell if you needed a copious amount of gin or a copious amount of sleep. Both, ideally. 

After what you were certain was the most pointless council sessions ever, you traipsed back to your quarters. Your eyelids were heavy with the weight of the day, practically drooping shut as you sluggishly walked to your room. The feeling of exhaustion was killing the Force vibe around you but you couldn’t have cared less. If you had to suffer, they could too. 

You barely even noticed the fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi was already in your room. His boots were strewn by the door and he was lounging across your sofa, a book in hand. He’d been given the week off after a successful mission. You were definitely okay with that. There was no way that you’d Force-throttled him in your head fifty times since Monday out of jealousy. That would be childish and immature and not at all something you would do. Even the notion was insulting. 

‘Darling!’ Obi-Wan brightly greeted you, tossing his book aside. ‘How was your day?’

Rather than dignifying his question with a response, you simply let out a groan, collapsing into your bed. Part of you noted that the sheets were clean - presumably the doing of Kenobi, who was a compulsive cleaner when he had too much spare time. It was one of the many whimsical things you adored about him. It meant that your wardrobe was meticulously organised and that your books were separated by author and genre, but if it kept him entertained, you were happy.

‘You’re tense.’

Taking a seat on the bed beside you, he softly run his hand up your back, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. You let out another small groan at the feeling - had you always been this tense? The traction in your body immediately ceased at his touch, pulling another soft groan from your mouth. If you were the most restless Jedi in the order, Obi-Wan was the exact opposite. Talk about balance in the Force. 

He laid down beside you, pushing a few strands of hair back off of your face. ‘Are you ready to talk now?’

‘I’m good.’ You murmured, voice muffled by the mattress. 

‘C’mon.’ He urged. ‘Spit it out.’

‘I’m magnificent, really.’

‘Say it once more and I might believe you.’

‘Everything is shit!’ 

‘There we go.’

Obi-Wan inched closed towards you, wrapping his large arms around your waist as a choked sob escaped your lips. You weren’t even sad - just stressed. It felt like you had the weight of the galaxy resting on your shoulders and the fact you’d screwed up a dozen and three times that week only increased the pressure. If your to-do pile was the size of a Coruscanti skyscraper, then your completed pile was a measly bungalow in comparison.

‘It’s just one thing after the other.’ You mumbled into his chest. The faint scent of his aftershave, paired with his warm embrace, was an instant comfort. ‘It’s like I’m losing it. I’m shattered all the time and it’s just...constant sadness, you know?’

‘Things can get like that sometimes.’ Obi replied, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. ‘You’re doing a brilliant job, though.’

‘Easy for you to say - you’re not the one who submitted an entire report to Mace Windu in Wingdings.’ 

‘From what I heard, you got a decent nap out of it.’ He said. 

‘Obi!’ You groaned. ‘I am shattered and he has a very soothing voice.’

‘I know.’ He gently wiped a tear off of your cheek, offering you a warm smile. ‘I still mean it - even if you’re feeling down, you’re still a brilliant Jedi.’

You returned his gesture - albeit a little watery - and pressed your forehead to his. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’ He murmured. ‘If you need a break, we could go to Naboo this weekend. The weather is meant to be good and we could get one of Padme’s guest houses all to ourselves.’

A weekend away in a sunny city with Obi-Wan sounded perfect. If you could switch off for a few days - which you usually did perfectly with him - then your brain might have been less fried just in time for the new week. It was rare that an opportunity to ditch your titles and just be together rolled around. You were constantly looking over your shoulder and panicking that you were going to get found out. Naboo was exactly what you needed.

‘That would be lovely.’ You tilted your head up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. ‘I assume that I’ll be the one flying.’

‘You always panic when I pilot.’ He reminded you. ‘And I think you’ve earned yourself enough grey hairs for this week.’

[mshermia]

Not Fine - Webpril day 6: Scars

summary: Peter struggles to accept how different things between the Avengers are after the Un-Snapping. As much as everyone else seems to have moved on from what tore the group apart, Peter is not ready to forgive and forget.

read on AO3 

Chapter 1

###

Chapter 2

It was quiet for a Thursday afternoon. Even with the mid-November weather mild and sunny, there weren't many people out on the streets. Truth be told, that was exactly how Peter liked it. He had his hoodie pulled up shielding his face while he watched life go on from the rooftops of Queens.

He had been lying low for more than 3 months now. Sometimes, there were the small things that his senses picked up, helpful stuff he could do for people like a kid that lost his parents. Heavy grocery bags that had to be carried across the street. Anything he wouldn't need his suit for.

That, he wouldn't risk. Too many people knew his face now. Too many people could expose him and put May in danger. Ned and MJ. Maybe even Tony. No, Peter had to lay low. That had been one of the reasons why he had spent so much time upstate at Tony's new house. It removed the temptation. Out there in the woods in Tony's basement, his senses weren't tingling, calling for him to be more useful.

Well, that had worked well until two weeks ago. Until the event at the new Compound Tony had made him go to. He hadn't been able to hold back any longer. The senses he had been suppressing for months had been screaming at him to jump so he had.

If only, he had never gone to the stupid event.

He hadn't seen Tony in almost two weeks. Not since he had bolted. It had been stupid and impulsive but Peter hadn't been able to help it. He couldn't stay there with these people looking at him for another minute.

Goosebumps erupted on his arms. Frowning, he leaned a little forward-looking down into the street. Maybe it was just the memory of that day, of Rogers' hands on Tony that made his senses chime up.

No. When the hair on his neck stood up, there was no doubt. Slowly, he rose to his feet, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie a little further down to make sure that his web-shooters were well hidden.

"Hello, Peter."

He turned fast towards the voice. Rogers stood in the middle of the rooftop, right next to the stairway. Peter's pulse was throbbing in his ears. He was such a fool, should have never gone out without the suit.

Rogers' hands were in the air, his head inclined towards him. "I'm just here to talk..."

"I don't want to talk to you," Peter hissed.

"Yeah," he nodded. "And that's exactly why I think we should."

Peter had his arm still stretched out in Rogers' direction, trying to keep him away. "What's wrong with you?"

Roger's sighed, his shoulders slagging a little. "You don't have to be scared of me, Peter."

"Scared of you." He huffed out a dry laugh. "You think I'm scared of you? The last time we went toe-to-toe I was 14 and I almost beat you even then." He tried to keep his breathing in check, but his heart was racing. "I've only gotten stronger since then."

"I don't want to fight you." Rogers shook his head. "We're on the same team."

"No, we're not," Peter breathed.

His eyes narrowed, before his head moved up and down in a series of tiny nods, inching a little closer to where Peter was standing. "Right, because you're on Tony's team."

He didn't say it in a condescending tone, or any tone at all, really. Just a factual statement. Still, it spurred on Peter's irritation like a hot poker.

"I'll always be on Tony's team," he hissed.

Another step from Rogers had Peter retreat a little further toward the ledge behind him.

"That's my team too, Peter." As another show of surrender, Roger's arms were spread wide, the lines on his face deepening. "I understand how difficult it is to wake up and find things to be different from how they were before. Believe me, I'm the expert when it comes to that. But there's nothing anyone can do about that." Rogers tiled his head to the side, eyebrows knitted together in a display of concern. "Things are different. A lot happened while you were gone and we had to go through some deep shit together. I would never tell you not to look out for Tony. He's very lucky to have you in his corner, but we moved on. You can't be mad at him for that surely?"

"Moved on..." Peter shook his head. "That's really convenient for you, hm?"

Rogers' frown only deepened. "I think it's convenient for all of us, to be honest. We could only bring everyone back together. We could defeat Thanos only together, as a team. Mistakes were made. We know now what it took to win."

"Yeah," Peter huffed out a laugh. "I wonder how many of us didn't already know that before."

His shoulders pulled back, standing a little taller, Rogers studied him. "What do you want me to do, Peter? Do you want to have it out? Punch me in the face to get it out of your system?"

His heart gave a painful squeeze at the notion. At the very idea of his fist connecting with the sharp lines of Rogers' face. "I'm not gonna punch you," Peter growled, his breathing heavy.

"Then what? What can I do that will be enough?"

Peter's breathing hitched. He took another step back, even closer to the edge of the building.

Nothing.

He hadn't realized it until now, but there truly was nothing Rogers could do for Peter to ever trust him. He made his priorities clear, what was important to him. Who he would protect when push came to shove and Mr. Stark hadn't been good enough for him. How would Peter ever be?

"Peter, wait—"

Before Rogers could grab him, Peter had taken the last step, falling - maybe a little further than he should have. Reveling in the rush before he engaged the web-shooters and got the hell out of there.

 #

 The Compound still gave Tony the creeps. I just looked so similar, basically the same as it had a few months ago. Almost like nothing had happened at all, no battle, no Thanos. Inside, things got even weirder. It was eerie to walk through the hallways and see them bustling with life. Not like it had before the un-Snapping or even the initial Snap. No, there was so much going on, Tony could easily pretend that it was still 2015 as people walked by and greeted him on his way to his lab.

The lab. Not his anymore. Bruce's in fact.

"Ah, there's the doc that I've been looking for," Tony called out as he stepped into the room.

"Tony! Hello, hi! Come on in..." Bruce waved him over, then shook his head. "Not like you need an invitation of course. I mean it's your lab and all, always will be. Thank you again for the opportunity—"

"At easy, buddy." Tony held up his arms to stop him. "I'm just here to help. I have a PO box for fan mail."

Bruce laughed and waved him closer to the workbench. Working with Bruce had always come easy to him. They understood each other on a level that was different from the other Avengers. From anyone really except the kid. Tony pressed his eyes shut for a moment before he blinked, trying to focus on the piece of hardware in his hands again.

Peter had been avoiding him for almost two weeks now. It was the longest Tony had gone without seeing him since they had brought everyone back. It brought up memories that Tony didn't particularly want to remember.

He had screwed up. He should have listened. Peter had been absolutely clear that he hadn't wanted to go.

This could have all be avoided if he would have just paid better attention. Now, the shit had hit the fan and Tony didn't even know where to begin to smooth things over. The panic on Peter's face, that had been too real.

He should have paid more attention.

"Sir, Captain Rogers is here to see you."

Tony hissed a painful curse through his teeth after his hand slipped and he hit his knuckles on the edge of the workbench.

Bruce, who had ignored his mishap, simply blinked up toward the ceiling. "So, FRIDAY's back?"

His knuckles pressed against his lips, Tony cringed. "Just for today's field trip. Let him in, FRI."

Rogers had his eyebrows raised as he walked up to them. "So, FRIDAY's back?"

Refusing the urge to roll his eyes up at her, Tony dropped his hand. "You know how cranky I get without an assistant."

"Yeah, about that. Listen..." Rogers' face was uncharacteristically unreadable. "I went to see Peter yesterday."

"You went—" Tony almost swallowed his tongue. "You did what?"

Rogers tilted his head at him like Tony was the one being unreasonable. "I went to see him because I thought if we just talked—"

"Jeezes, Rogers. Didn't I specifically tell you to stay out of it?"

"And how am I supposed to do that? I'm supposed to be in charge of this team. How can I do that if we can't—"

"I told you!" Tony pointed towards the lawn outside the building. "We stood right out there and I told you that the kid needs space. That he needs time. That I needed you to back off!"

"Yeah, well that's what I gave you once before," Rogers hissed back. "I gave you all the space you wanted. I'm not making that mistake again."

"Oh please, that's hardly the same, Steve. It's been two weeks not--"

"We're vulnerable as a team, Tony." Steve's shoulders sagged with a sigh. "Listen, I understand, okay. Peter's yours, but he's also Spider-Man. He's also going to be an Avenger, but--"

"Excuse me," Tony crossed his arms. "Going to be? Do I have to re-tell the story where the kid fought Thanos on--"

"No." Steve held a hand out to stop him. "I'm not trying to diminish his bravery and his sacrifice. But if he wants to be part of this team, we need to come to an understanding."

Tony gnawed on the inside of his lip. Unfortunately, the Capsicle had a point. Their feud had already cost them enough. It was over with. They had needed to move on to win, to bring everyone back and they couldn't fall back into old patterns now.

"Maybe you were right that he needed some space from me," Rogers admitted begrudgingly. "But then you need to go and talk to him. He trusts you, Tony."

His face scrunched up, Tony's eyes shot over at Bruce.

"It's fine, Tony." Bruce waved him off. "I understand you want to take care of your kid. You do that. I'll just be here, okay? When you got some time?"

He grimaced apologetically. "I'll be back when I can."

With a short nod at Rogers, Tony walked out of the lab. He had a trip to the city to make.

When he showed up in Queens, May let him into the apartment. The kid wasn't home.

"He's been out a lot. I mean, after the... you know." She sighed. "I do think that getting back to his old routine, that's good for him. Getting back out there and feeling useful."

"Right," Tony breathed.

Peter hadn't spent as much as a minute out there in the suit. Not since the last battle. But that wasn't something May needed to worry about, not yet.

"I'm off to work in like 10 minutes, but you're welcome to wait for him," May said while she was collecting things like her phone, keys, and glasses from different places around the apartment.

"I would actually," Tony said. "If you don't mind."

"Not at all," she waved off the idea that it could bother her. "Just help yourself to whatever you find edible in the kitchen."

"I'm good, May. Thanks."

She was cheerful enough when she left and Tony did his best to plaster a smile on his face so she wouldn't get suspicious. If May still thought that Peter went out there in the suit, he hadn't shared whatever was bothering him and Tony wouldn't risk maneuvering himself even further on the kid's bad side by setting May onto his trail.

Instead, he got himself a few cookies from the kitchen, a glass of water and made his way to Peter's room. The great thing about retirement, he had all the time in the world to just sit this one out. Even if the kid somehow sensed that Tony was waiting for him, he wouldn't stay out all night. The nights were getting a little chilly for that and Tony knew for a fact that Peter still wasn't wearing his suit when he went out there.

Turned out, Peter didn't sense him. In fact, he almost doubled over in surprise when Tony spoke up as Peter was sliding the window to his room shut.

"Little late to be out there without your parachute."

"Fuck's sake..." One of his hands was stretched out toward Tony, the web-shooter armed and ready. The other was clutching his heart after he had recognized Tony just before he had fired his first web. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Er, I did knock," Tony pointed out. "In fact, that's the very strategy I used to get in here."

Peter scrunched up his nose before he pulled his hoodie over his head and flung it onto the bed. "May let you in?"

"Yeah, you know if you want to strategically avoid me, you should at least clue her in enough not to let me through the door like that."

"I'm not strategically avoiding you." The top of Peter's ears were pink, so were his cheeks, either from the cold or from the bold-faced lie he just told. Maybe a little bit of both.

"I heard you had another visitor."

The kid's arms were crossed tightly across his chest where he stood across the room as far away from Tony as possible. "What's it to you?"

"What's it to me?" Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Okay, time out. Could you at least fill me in at what point of all of this I became the bad guy?"

Peter blew out a long breath, eyes on the floor. "You're not the bad guy."

"Really? Cause I could have sworn that you didn't just avoid seeing my face you also dodged my calls and didn't respond to my txts for the past two weeks."

Peter groaned."It's not about you, okay?"

"No." Tony blew out a sigh. "It's about Rogers."

Arms still tightly held in front of his body, Peter leaned against the wall. He was doing what he could to avoid Tony's eyes but there was nothing he could do to hide the truth written so clearly on his face.

"Pete, you know I love you for your spirit, but..." Tony pursed his lips, watching as the kid hid away from him with every passing word. "It's time to just let this go."

The words shot out of him like he had been waiting to say it for two weeks straight. "Well, I don't want to let this go."

"Pete...."

"No. No, I'm not okay with this." He pointed towards the window like he was pointing to the bunker in Siberia. "He left you to die!"

"Buddy, that was 7 years ago... I moved on. I had to."

"I don't care if it was 70 years ago!" His voice was shaking with emotion. "He was okay with you dying out there."

Tony blew out a breath, trying to reign in his own emotions. "Pete, I think you're being a little dramatic."

"Yeah? Dramatic?" Peter huffed out a humorless laugh. "Well, why don't you take off your shirt and say that again?"

Tony's mouth popped open in shock. "Wh-what?"

He pointed at him, his eyes glassy. "I've seen the scars, Tony."

Slowly, Tony's hand rose to his chest, clasping onto the fabric of his shirt. He had been so careful. He had always been careful to keep those hidden for almost a decade now.

Peter's face was red with fury. "You think I could ever trust anyone who did that to you?"

"But..." Tony shook his head, letting go of his shirt like it was burning metal. "Steve didn't do that."

Like someone had turned up the thermostat, the color on Peter's face deepened. "Why are you lying for him?"

"I'm not, I..." Going for the worst course of action, Tony pulled up his shirt. "You mean these?"

Peter backed up a few steps, eyes wide, a couple of tears falling from his lashes onto his own shirt while he refused to blink.

"Jeezes, kid..." Tony dropped the hem of the shirt and ran the hand that had been holding it up over his face instead. "Rogers didn't do that. It's from the arc. When... when I had them take it out."

"But, no..." Peter's eyes were still fixed on the spot of his chest, now covered by his shirt again. "No, I saw the suit," he mumbled. "I saw it. He... he struck you right there. Right on your chest where..." Peter's hand shot up, covering his mouth, as he spun away.

With a few hurried steps, Tony was across the room. Clasping Peter by the shoulders, he turned him back around, back towards him. It was all the kid needed to latch onto him, his arms tightly wrapped around him, like he had to make sure that Tony was still there.

"I'm fine now, buddy. It..." Tony pressed his eyes shut. Rogers sure had left a few scars on him but Tomy had been through worse than that. "It was a shit time and... and I should have never gotten you involved in that mess. It wasn't fair to you."

Peter shook his head. "Stop saying that it's your fault. It's not your fault."

"Shh, it's okay." He held him closely pressed against his chest like that would wipe away the memories, all of this was bringing up.

It had been a shit time after Siberia. He had been hurt, his body bruised but not as badly as his soul. Still, it was nothing compared to the pain that the friction in the team had cost him.

"I get that this is hard for you, buddy. Believe me, I get that. That pain you're holding onto." Tony swallowed hard, holding onto the kid a little tighter. "The thing is, I had to let it go because if I hadn't, you wouldn't be here. I had to trust him to help me bring you back and without him, you wouldn't be here right now."

Peter shook his head against Tony's chest, but only a stifled sob bubbled out of him.

"Maybe, if I hadn't held onto all that bullshit for so long, I would have never lost you in the first place." Tony blew out a breath and let go of Peter just enough to look into his red-rimmed eyes. "If you want to be an Avenger, then you need to move past this. You don't have to like it, but you'll have to work with them."

"How? What if... they all know who I am. They all know May, where I live. What if they tell people? What if--"

"Then we'll deal with it when the time comes."

Peter shook his head, eyes still swimming with tears. "I can't... I can't do it. I'll never trust him."

"Okay..." Tony swallowed hard. "Okay, then... well, you trust me though, right?"

Peter gave him a look like he was being insulting.

"So, if I came back to the team—"

"What? No..."

Tony shook his head. "If I came out of retirement, then you could trust me. Trust that I'll keep you safe. That someone on the team has you back."

Peter's hands had been clinging to his shirt, but he let go now. "No, Tony, I don't want that."

"Well, I don't really see any other option. You're unhappy with the situation. So I'm rectifying the situation."

Peter pushed himself away from him. "Fine," he snapped. "I got it, okay? I'll make it work."

"Buddy..."

"No, you don't have to blackmail me." He stalked away, out of the room towards the kitchen. "I get it. I'll... I'll move on. Work... work past this."

Tony was right on his heels. "Okay, stop. Come back here."

His back turned to Tony, Peter pulled open the fridge, staring into it like the solution to all his problems might be hidden between the butter and the cheese slices.

"Pete, I need you to be safe on the team, but I also need the team to be strong so all of us will stay safe."

"I get it, okay?" He slammed the fridge shut but didn't turn around, now staring at the pictures pinned on the outside of it. "I'll make it work."

"Can you maybe look at me?"

With a huff, Peter turned to face him, his eyes still red. "You're not coming out of retirement."

"Okay then." Tony frowned at him. He wouldn't deny that it had been a threat, but it hadn't been an empty one. He'd do what would be necessary to keep his family safe. Peter included. "I'll reserve the option to change my mind if you're struggling."

"I won't be."

Tony pointed a finger at him. "Not telling me about how much of a struggle it is for you is not an option."

Peter snorted. He turned his head away, the corners of his mouth twitching with some resemblance of humor.

"Sometimes I hate you, you know that?"

Eyes still on his kid, Tony studied him. "I wouldn't be doing a great job with all the mentoring if that wasn't true."

Peter shook his head, his smile growing a little wider until he swallowed hard. The smile disappeared and he was looking directly at Tony. "I hate this. I hate what they did. Rogers. All of them. I'll never forgive them."

In acknowledgment, Tony inclined his head in a soft nod. "That's not what I'm asking, bud. This isn't about forgiveness."

"Right. We're just..." He blinked a few times, eyes squinting to the side. "We're just moving on."

"Not 'just'..." Tony shook his head. "I'm not asking you to just flip a switch, Pete."

"Right," he breathed, looking back and forth between Tony and the wall, teeth gnawing on his lower lip like he was actually considering this at last.

"We'll just take it one day at a time," Tony offered. "I'll still be here for you."

"Here but just..." Peter hesitated, eying him suspiciously. "...just not too close to the action."

"As close to the action as you need me to be."

Peter dropped his arms to his side, no humor in his expression whatsoever. "Where I need you is back in the woods."

"Alright." Tony held up his hands in defeat. "As long as you know that I'm still here for you."

"I do. I know." He shuffled back and for on his feet. "It's okay. I can do it. I think. Move on."

His eyes were still red, the tears not quite dried on his cheeks. But as Tony studied him, there was honesty on his face, a true intention to try.

He narrowed his eyes on him, ready to test that newfound commitment. "We could start by moving on to the Compound right now? Where Bruce is waiting for some help with his nanotech project?"

"Nanotech at the Compound?" Peter scrunched up his nose. "Only if there's dinner."

Tony clutched his heart in affronted shock. "When did I ever not feed you?" He dropped his arms and waved Peter a little closer. "Come here, buddy."

Peter didn't hesitate. He stepped into Tony's arms, clinging to him tightly.

No... Tony pressed his eyes shut. Maybe the scars ran too deep for there to ever be true forgiveness. But that didn't mean they couldn't move on.

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Thanks for reading :)