#and he was like yeah that's the worst industry to be in right now.

[shadowen]

I call this piece "The State of American Labor, 2024".

[fbfh]

Imagine topping Leo in a chair?

LITERALLY love you for this. riding Leo in a chair is in like your top 5 favorite ways to ride Leo. your faces are so close together and he can feel every intimate rockwing bouncing squeeze of your tight juicy little hole gripping his throbbing cock like a vise. his eyes are so wide and his grip on your soft hips is nearly enough to leave pretty little fingertip bruises polkadotting your thighs (which he's obsessed with) and your hips (which he's also obsessed with) and your ass (are you sensing a pattern here????) and god everything you do drives him crazy but CHRIST the way you hold his face so sweetly in your pretty hands, so innocent and tender while simultaneously milking his cock for all he's got. and he'll give it to you. Leo will let you ride him in that chair that he can't look at after that without going half mast. he'll let you ride him until he's shooting blanks, until both of your cum drips on the floor, mixing in messy creamy beautiful puddles. Leo will throw his head back in pleasure, panting, chest heaving and giving you the best view of his perfect neck that's just begging to be covered in hickeys and bites. Leo will let you ride him in a chair until he passes out. can't walk. pounding down gatorade and liquid iv to try and rehydrate. and he'll thank you for it.

[hannieehaee]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.2k (10k+ including kofi/patreon exclusive drabble)

a/n: the teaser for this got way more attention than i was expecting lol i hope u guys enjoy the final product!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better at the time.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

The position made it so that Jungkook was technically sitting behind you. Since you were on Mingyu's lap and sitting sideways on the couch, you were now being sandwiched by both boys. Jungkook still kept a small distance, making you have to turn around in Mingyu's hold to look at him.

While you probably embodied the image of a deer caught in headlights, Mingyu seemed completely relaxed, hands still comfortably on your waist.

"I was actually just catching Y/N up," said Mingyu, an overly cocky tone in his voice as his hands continued to feel up and down your waist.

"Oh? Without me?", chuckled Jungkook, leaning a bit closer.

"What the hell is happening?"

"How much did you tell her?", Jungkook ignored you, staring directly at Mingyu. His eyes would occasionally trail down to Mingyu's hands on your waist, a sour look overtaking his face.

It seemed like you had missed a few chapters in the friendship; there was some unspoken agreement between the two in which you were the main character. While it bothered you to think that they'd discussed you in private, the enigma of it all also excited you. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the way in which Mingyu's entire demeanor had become possessive when you brought up dating. The reason didn't matter when you were already beginning to heat up.

"Just caught her up a little on the, uh, situation," said Mingyu with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes, "Did you know she was thinking about dating?", he asked Jungkook, ignoring your presence while still having his hands on you.

Mingyu's hand had made it under your shirt by now, feeling the warm skin of your back.

"Oh? Since when?", he finally turned to you, scooting up a tiny bit more.

Due to his new proximity, you turned your head around, facing Mingyu again. That proved to be a mistake, as Mingyu was even closer to you. Jungkook also took advantage of this, braving a few more inches in closeness and letting his face come closer to your neck. He pushed your hair aside for better access, simply breathing against you as he awaited your answer.

Responding was the hardest thing in the world. Your mind was simply not working at the moment, the situation being far too intimate for you to fully function. On one side you had the huge hunk of a man that was Mingyu, warm hands against the bare skin of your back all while you sat on his leg. On the other, you had the gorgeous embodiment of a boyfriend that was Jungkook, whose fingers were now slowly running up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake while he nosed at your neck.

You had your two gorgeous best friends giving you the best type of attention all while your brain fizzled with your tipsiness.

"Answer him, baby," murmured Gyu.

"I- I just," you sighed when Jungkook began leaving feather-light kisses on your neck, "just thought about maybe getting b-back in the market? To meet someone and-"

"But you have us?", Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, seemingly unable to understand the platonic nature behind your friendship.

"That's what I said!", added Mingyu.

"But I want a boyfriend, n-not-"

"Boyfriend? Baby ...", Jungkook disconnected from you, grabbing your head to make you twist your neck in order to look at him, "That's just an upgrade. You want a boyfriend? We'll give you two. You don't need to be looking around for some loser," his eyes gradually lowered to your lips as he spoke, breath heavy against them.

"K-Kook, I-"

"Please say yes? Please just ... Let me show you? We can show you together. Right, Gyu?", he murmured, mere inches away from your mouth.

Before you knew it, you were nodding, far too desperate to voice your desire.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had thought of kissing Jungkook before. Being one of the prettiest boys you'd ever seen before, it was hard at first to keep your relationship with him fully platonic, having had to beat down a small crush you had developed on him at an earlier age. His kiss, however, was not something you could've ever predicted.

Even with the awkward angle, and Mingyu's hands still on you, Jungkook gave you the dizziest of kisses. He knew how to get you hooked immediately, starting with a heavy kiss that had you chasing him the moment he pulled away. With a quiet and breathy laugh, he kissed you again, languid and wet in the way his tongue snuck between your lips, seamlessly making its way into your mouth to play with yours.

Shamelessly, you moaned against his lips, hands digging into Mingyu's shoulders as he continued to hold you. The slight awkwardness of making out with Jungkook while giving your back to Mingyu, yet still holding onto him, was present in your mind. However, Jungkook's sensual yet playful way of kissing you took up most of your attention.

But you knew Mingyu to be a whiny mess of a man at times, so you knew it wouldn't be long before he attempted to regain your attention. The evidence was in the way he felt you up all throughout, hands on your breasts as he pinched at your nipples through your shirt, groaning at the feeling of your tits in his hands. Occasionally, his hands would go down to your cunt, ghosting the place where you needed the most attention before making their way back up to your chest.

Pulling you away by the waist, you were forced to separate from Jungkook, eyes still closed as your lips chased his own. This time Jungkook's lips also attempted to regain possession over yours, with his tongue catching a few last nasty licks of your own.

"It's my turn," grumbled Mingyu, making you turn back to him, "You're on my lap but kiss him only? Baby, we're supposed to share you!", he pouted.

Giggling, you got even closer to him, cradling his head in your hands as you lightly pulled at his hair.

You turned to Jungkook one quick last time, "Kookie?"

His eyes lit up at your question, giving you a view of his round eyes as he gave you his full attention.

"Scoot closer, yeah? Put your hands around me," you encouraged him, humming in contentment when he went above and beyond and began to kiss your neck in the process.

Turning back to Mingyu, there was still an ever-so-present pout on his features, making you giggle again before finally kissing his lips.

Now, Mingyu's kiss was completely different from that of Jungkook's.

You had known Mingyu for as much time as you had Jungkook. He had a bit of a reputation when you had first met, being known as a guy who would occasionally sleep around with other idols, and sometimes staff. Now at 26, he had been retired from that era of his life for a while, but you'd be lying if you didn't say he always made you wonder. He always had all the girls swooning, instantly falling in love with his outgoing persona and his incomparable charisma. His looks also did not help matters. Being so handsome and likable, you occasionally fell victim to his charms, sometimes needing to snap yourself out of R rated thoughts you'd have about him on nights you were feeling particularly lonely.

His kiss felt exactly the way he looked. It was rich and insanely hot. Mingyu made love to your mouth, using his tongue in ways you didn't know a man could. He was domineering in the way he kissed you, with a firm hand on your jaw so he could position you in a way that allowed him to kiss you just the way he liked. And he liked it nasty. He liked it wet and filthy and in a way that made you sure you'd cum if he kissed you for a little too long.

You could barely catch up to the situation, having one gorgeous man fucking your mouth with his tongue while the other suckled at the most sensitive spots of your neck. In the meantime, your cunt was gushing with essence, already so extremely wet you were beginning to squirm in Mingyu's hold.

You attempted to pull away once, only to be enticed into kissing Mingyu again as he groaned against you, tongue seducing yours once more. You attempted to pull away twice, having his arms wrap tighter around you. The third time is when you finally succeeded, whining against Mingyu's mouth that you needed more. This caused yet another groan to come out of Mingyu, only to be echoed by Jungkook's own groan against your neck.

They both disconnected from you, looking to each other in a decisive manner, almost as if to formulate a game plan.

"I want her first," said Jungkook, slapping Mingyu's hands away from you and attempting to move you onto his lap.

Mingyu stopped him, holding you tighter against him as he rebutted, "You? She's already on my lap. I should have her first."

"Dude, I'm about to blow up. Just let me fuck her and then you can have her while I recover," be argued, hands fighting Mingyu's off of you.

"Why can't I choose?", you butt in, annoyed.

Their demeanors swiftly changed at your interruption, both pairs of hands now touching either your waist or thighs in an intimate yet caring manner.

"What do you want, pretty? My cock? Hmm?", asked Mingyu with a sweet voice in an attempt to convince you. Meanwhile, Jungkook wordlessly kissed at your neck again, nibbling at your ear and smirking at how you shuddered at the feeling.

"I-", you were already lightheaded again, "I wanna suck your dick, Gyu. Want Kookie to fuck me while I suck your dick," you murmured, hand holding Jungkook's head against your neck to keep his kisses coming.

Mingyu groaned at this, nodding absentmindedly. He began to shift, attempting to get up in order to get himself ready for you, but you stopped him.

"Undress me? Both of you?", you asked in the softest voice you could muster. You wanted both their hands on you at once, feeling your nude body for the first time. You knew their desire for you was already clouding their minds, so you wanted to do everything in your power to relish in every single touch, every look filled with lust they would give you.

Without another word, both boys got up, standing you up with them. Their hands were messy and uncoordinated as they got every garment off you, feeling you up in the process. Your breasts were groped and fondled multiple times in the process, while Jungkook pressed your ass up against him any chance he could, groaning at the slight stimulation.

Finally undressed, you decided to turn around once more, facing Jungkook as you kissed him with no warning. You smirked into his mouth when you felt Mingyu grab you from behind and press your ass up against him, grinding slowly against you. You knew it wasn't enough to get him anywhere, but you enjoyed knowing he was needy enough to use you in such a fruitless way just for a little stimulation.

Meanwhile, your hands went straight to Jungkook's oversized top, hands sneaking underneath to feel up his muscular form, hands harshly rubbing on his strong chest. It seemed Jungkook was overly sensitive to your touch. He whined needy breaths into your mouth as you felt him up. Taking off his shirt, you moaned as you saw the gorgeous figure of your best friend.

God, he was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen. You couldn't wait until you saw the rest of his pretty body, sculpted by the endless hours of work you knew he always put into the gym. The endless hours in which you had accompanied him to said gym, always having to look away before you started to have inpure thoughts of your best friend.

He helped you in the removing of his pants and boxers, throwing his head back when your hands immediately went to find his cock and play with it. Burying his head in your neck, he groaned against your skin, whining at the feeling of your hands finally wrapped around him after having wanted you for so long.

Behind you, you heard shuffling, assuming Mingyu to have been removing his own clothes as he waited for his turn of your attention to come. You felt badly at leaving him hanging for too long, knowing him to have an overly impatient disposition when he didn't receive attention for extended periods of time.

Playing with Jungkook's cock just for a little longer, you gave him one last kiss before turning around and trapping Mingyu in his own kiss. Unlike with Jungkook, you didn't linger long, opting instead to push him down the large conversation pit – thank god for Jungkook's insanely big mansion – located just a few steps away from the couch where it had all begun. This way you could have all the space you wanted to play with your friends.

Now lying down, Mingyu looked you up and down like you were his next prey, licking his lips at the sight and motioning at you to come sit on him despite knowing that you wanted something else.

"C'mon, baby. Ditch him. Don't you want me instead?," he leaned upwards to try and convince you of sitting on him.

It was hard to deny him with his cock staring up at you in such a challenging manner. He was equally as gorgeous as your other bestie, but in so many different ways. Mingyu was so big and thick and buff, he had you salivating at the mere sight of him. He was so toned yet so thick, and his dick matched perfectly. God, the thought of that monster inside you had your eyes rolling back already. Did he really mean it when he said he'd be yours? That he and Jungkook would share you? The idea of a boyfriend sounded stupid in retrospect.

Despite all your better judgment telling you to jump Mingyu and let him impale you with his cock right then and there, you knew that starting off with Jungkook would give you a better buildup. You also knew that based on Jungkook's competitive personality, he'd become even whinier than Mingyu if you didn't let him take care of you first.

Fully determined, you turned back to Jungkook, who had been standing there in a trance, now having a better view of your body and keeping his eyes religiously glued to it. You grabbed onto him and walked yourself back to the large conversation pit, eyes glued to Jungkook's in a seductive manner as you guided him to the area in which Mingyu was already lying down. In only a few seconds, you let go of Jungkook and positioned yourself in front of Mingyu at an eye level with his cock while he sat up and looked down at you with a pained look in his eyes. In all fours, your back faced Jungkook, hinting at him to get behind you so that you could finally get back to business.

With a groan, Jungkook knelt behind you, needy hands feeling the curve of your back as he pushed you up against him. In the meantime, you began softly playing with Mingyu's cock, making him throw his head back at finally receiving some attention where he'd been craving it for so long.

"You're so pretty, fuck ... No one deserves you, baby. Too fucking pretty n perfect n fuck ... Can I fuck you now, pretty? Hmm? Let me have this pretty pussy while you suck off your bestie," rambled Jungkook from behind you, head lowered so he could kiss at your hips.

You whined and pushed up your ass against him, giving him the green light to do whatever he wanted, when suddenly he stopped.

"Fuck, wait. Condom?", he asked, making Mingyu groan, as you were about to engulf him in your mouth but also halted your movements to tend to Jungkook's question.

"It's okay, Kookie. The company put me on some new birth control. You can fuck me raw," you smirked up at Mingyu, giggling at yet another groan of his.

"He gets you raw? Baby, I'm the one who started all this! How's that fair?", he huffed.

Taking a quick separation from Jungkook, you gestured for Mingyu to lean down so he could meet you halfway. With a wet kiss, you made your way to his ear and whispered against it.

"I'm saving you for last, baby. Gonna ride you til I cry ... Now be good and cum in my mouth?"

He groaned so loudly his entire body vibrated under you as you crawled your way back to your previous position. Jungkook simply laughed at the interaction.

Feeling you up once more, Jungkook finally grabbed onto his cock and lined himself up, groaning at the gushing wetness that coated his cock as he entered you. Your own moan was masked by Mingyu's cock, which you were currently working into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck ... It's so tight, baby ... It's so fuckin' warm n tight n so pretty, baby. Such a pretty cunt," babbled Jungkook, immediately pussydrunk.

Could he be blamed? He had wanted you for years. From the moment he met you, he cursed at himself for being so damn shy and initiating a friendship with you rather than showing you his interest. His members constantly teased him over it, even so many years into his crush. When he first found out Mingyu also had similar ideas in mind, he felt conflicted. But he ultimately grew close enough to the two of you to the point where he wouldn't mind sharing you with his bestest of friends.

Your muffled moans completely took him out of it, taking away any ability to think or speak. He simply chased after you with his hips, canting them against your own as you pushed back against him.

"Is it good, pretty? Like my cock?" he winced at the way you tightened any time he'd speak to you.

"So good, Kookie. So big ...," you pulled away from Mingyu to breathe before going back to licking and sucking at his tip, moaning against him as his eyes rolled back.

You were practically centipede in Jungkook's living room, with Mingyu lying on his back as you gagged on his cock and Jungkook pounding into you from behind. All your senses were overtaken by the mindless quest for pleasure you had all taken on.

"You're so good with your mouth, pretty ... Fuck, look so pretty stuffed of cock," Mingyu gasped, throwing his head back, "Like how he fucks you, baby? Just wait til I get to you ... Gonna stuff that pretty pussy so good ..."

You moaned against his cock, already thirsty for him even as Jungkook continued to ram into you. Pushing your ass back against him, you felt Jungkook's nails dig into the skin of your hips, adoring how malleable you were for him.

"Baby ... 'm gonna cum soon ... Feels so fucking good, pretty. You're so fucking g-good for me. Wanted you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea ..." murmured Jungkook as he entered his high, hips lacking any control in their movements.

Jungkook had always been the most sensible of the bunch, never holding back from expressing how strongly he felt for the people in his life. The pleasure must've been so much that it made him unfiltered in revealing the undeniable effect you had on him.

"W-where do I cum? Fuck, gonna fucking cum, it's so good, baby. Take it so good for me, shit ..."

You were too busy gagging on cock to respond right away, so you had to take a minute to pull away and catch your breath, replacing your mouth with your hand while also holding yourself up with the other one.

"Inside? Cum inside, Kookie. I'll- I'll cum too," you were breathless, barely able to get the words out as a petulant Mingyu whined at you to help him finish, hands going behind your head and lightly encouraging you to get your mouth back on him.

"Inside? Fuck, okay, baby. Gonna fill you up, yeah?", he groaned, muttering to himself right afterwards, "Fucking finally ..."

His hips sped up drastically as his high approached, making you choke around Mingyu not just due to his girth, but due to the intense ramming against your ass. Though harsh and with an unmatchable energy, you continued to try and push your hips back toward his own, wanting to milk him dry as your own high invaded your senses.

His desperation for you made you feel so incredibly good, like you were the prettiest girl to ever exist. It made you arch your back a little deeper, take a little more of Gyu's cock, dig your nails a little harsher into the cushion of the conversation pit. You heightened all your actions just to feel him a little more.

And then it reached its crescendo. All while Jungkook whimpered and cried at how sensitive he felt at your tightening walls, Mingyu also found his own high. You were too distracted with your own orgasm to acknowledge him asking you for permission to cum in your mouth, instead suctioning more intensely to wordlessly give him an enthusiastic yes, please fill up my mouth with your cum.

By the time Mingyu filled up your mouth, Jungkook had already finished his high, now kneeling behind you as he peppered kisses all over your back and hips, whispering against you how good you had been for him and how pretty you looked with his cum leaking out of you. Fully drunk on the aftermath of his high, Jungkook loved on you like any lover would.

In the meantime, you attempted to swallow every bit of Mingyu's essence, moaning against his cock afterwards as you licked at every lone drop that made it out of your mouth.

By the end of it, you were all completely spent. Each of you dropped one by one, with Jungkook lying on his back as he caught his breath, you falling onto Mingyu, and Mingyu attempting to pull you up to climb his body so that he could kiss you again.

With the very little energy you had regained, you crawled up Mingyu's body, making out with him as he attempted to lick his way into your mouth in order to taste himself in your mouth. Kissing evolved into feeling each other up, which then became grinding your now sensitive pelvises against each other. Surprisingly, Mingyu was still half-hard, which gave you the perfect surface to grind your cunt into. He sat up, making you sit up with him before beginning to leave kisses on the side of your neck.

"Baby? Gonna ride me like you said, right? Just .. Fuck, want that pretty pussy, baby. It's my turn to have that tiny little cunt wrapped around me, yeah?", he murmured between kisses.

You gave in to him easily, gasping at every word that accompanied every kiss.

Nodding mindlessly, you almost forgot to think back to Jungkook, who was probably still recovering from his orgasm.

"W-what about Kookie?," you mumbled when Mingyu began positioning you above his cock.

"Don't worry about me, pretty. Just enjoying the view", you turned back to see Jungkook lying back on his elbows, one hand on his semi-flacid cock as he began to work himself up at the sight of you sitting on your best friend.

Well, that worked well enough for you.

"Now pay attention to me, princess. Been ignoring me all day today," Mingyu grabbed onto your chin to make you look at him, thumb softly rubbing at your chin as he tilted your head back.

You were insanely wet by now, not only from your orgasm but also from just Mingyu's mere presence. Knowing how intense and touchy Mingyu always was in PG scenarios, you couldn't help your eyes rolling back at the thought of him between the sheets. His heavy cock on your tongue had been enough of a taste to know how good it'd feel when finally inside you.

His strong hands lifted you up a bit, rescuing his dick from under you as he helped you position it under you, holding tightly onto your hips when you began to lower yourself down. You would've moaned and whined at the immense stretch, but Mingyu had different plans for your mouth. His thick fingers slipped into your mouth, making you gag a bit before you began sucking on them.

Too many things were on your mind, with all your senses being invaded by Mingyu – though also accompanied by Jungkook's low moans of pleasure behind you. Even as your body was bouncing against Mingyu's, attempting to match his thrusts, your head was completely empty of any thought. All you could think about was Mingyu, and his cock, and his fingers, and his pretty body, and and and-

"Feel good, princess? Love my cock, hmm? Tell me how much you like my cock, angel," he groaned as he took his fingers out of your mouth, using the wet fingertips to tweak at your nipple as his mouth engulfed the opposite one.

"So much ... It's so big. Fuck, Gyu, you're s-so big ..."

Barely able to formulate words, you cried as Mingyu helped you bounce on him, occasionally opting to grind in a way that made your clit get the perfect stimulation. It all felt too good. Mingyu's gigantic hands on your body while his lips suckled on your tits as Jungkook groaned so prettily behind you. You were far too sensitive and alert to hold back from the life-altering orgasm that was to come. So, you voiced this concern to Mingyu.

His response came in the form of flipping you around and trapping you underneath him. His big hands held onto your waist, lifting you a bit so he could angle himself just right. Eyes rolling back and nails digging onto the bed, you lost yourself in him. Jungkook seemed to be completely lost to pleasure also. You could finally see him after Mingyu flipped you over, and fuck ... He looked so desperate, so depraved in the way he hammered into his cock, mouth permanently agape as he let out little praises to you.

"I need you to cum for me, okay, princess? Show Jungkook how good I make you feel. Need you to milk me dry, yeah? Can you do that for me?", he dumbly talked down at you with a tone that could only be seen as patronizing in any other context. But here, you loved it. You loved how dumbly he treated you. Because it was true. You could not think, you could not speak. Your senses were all gone and replaced by a constant stream of cock cock cock as Mingyu finally made you reach your orgasm.

Mingyu played with you through the entirety of your orgasm, rubbing at your clit with one hand while holding you with the other, his lips constantly attached to your tits.

"G-gyu, I- fuck! C-cumming! Please, I-" you had no idea what you were begging for as your orgasm completely took over, making you tighten around Mingyu as he mumbled into your chest, letting you know of his own impending high.

Despite having already had an equally fulfilling orgasm, this second one brought out a new sensitivity in you. Falling under Mingyu, you whimpered at the way he flipped you over again to lay on his chest, caressing your back and pressed you up against him, even more when Jungkook laid beside you and softly ran his hands through your hair.

The three of you laid there together, with you halfway laying on Mingyu while Jungkook laid on the opposite side of you, cuddling into you. Behind you, you could feel Jungkook's flacid member, meaning he had also reached a second high along with you and Mingyu. Lying there together, completely sober now, you eventually let sleep take over you, nuzzling into both boys in a satisfied manner.

A few days passed by since your encounter with the 97s. They were pretty eventful as far as your job went, attending a few photoshoots and practicing constantly for whatever new activity was coming up for your group. However, things between you and your friends had remained stagnant. You didn't think they had ghosted you or anything like that, but the timing of your busy schedules picking up right after breaking your platonic relationship did make you anxious.

When you'd woken up that next day, Mingyu was gone, having left one of the packs of ramen cooked and ready for you with a note attached detailing how much he enjoyed last night, saying he had wanted to stay and say goodbye but had a a schedule that had been calling for him. It was signed with his name and a little heart.

Jungkook had been half-awake already, having carried you to his bed when he had woken up, right after Mingyu's departure. You had wanted to talk about last night, but also had a schedule over at the company, so you left after cuddling with a sleepy Jungkook for a short while, not really discussing anything, yet sharing a sweet kiss as a goodbye for the day.

And so you hadn't really seen them since then. It was the unfortunate reality of idol life. That night had been the first in a few weeks in which you'd even been able to see each other. You were unsure when the next one would come, but you needed it to be soon. The remembrance of that night kept messing with your head, especially any time you'd see either of your friends in passing at the Hybe building, never being free long enough for a worthy interaction.

On the fourth night since the incident, you finally had more time off for yourself, hoping maybe they did too. Mingyu got ahead of you in that aspect, texting you the previous night, somehow aware of your time off, and asking you over. There was no deeper interpretation to be had in his message, as it was pretty straightforward. Nervous as to whether to expect a repeat of last time or a conversation about it, you let him know you'd be there.

Jungkook and Mingyu had always been closer to each other than to you. Going out together was always easier for them since no scandalous rumors would arise from it. They were also often in the same friend groups, knowing more male idols than you did due to the nature of the industry. It was easy for you to assume that they had already spoken about what had happened, even before it happened. Throughout the night, they kept referencing some type of agreement they'd had regarding you and dating. It was hard to assume, but you wondered if they meant sharing you – as strange as it sounded.

Your questions would only be answered tonight, leading you to some anxiety before finally arriving to Mingyu's.

~

"I missed you," were Mingyu's first words when he welcomed you, trapping you in a warm hug as he usually did. Hugging Mingyu was, in your opinion, one of your life's greatest privileges. He was so big and strong, it always felt like being completely engulfed in the safest of spaces.

His hug was followed by one of Jungkook's, less tight in nature but just as rewarding. He held onto your waist and nuzzled against you, always attempting to bury himself in whoever he held in his arms.

Quietly, they guided you to Mingyu's living room, slightly smaller than Jungkook's but still very much reminiscent of a millionaire's home.

You looked over to the coffee table, tilting your head in confusion at the presence of cans of diet soda rather than the usual alcohol Mingyu would always provide. Sensing your confusion, Mingyu chuckled.

"No alcohol today. Thought you might wanna talk about what happened," he sat down on the couch, patting the empty space next to him so you'd join him. Behind to you, Jungkook joined, sitting on a lone seat facing you and Mingyu. No matter where you looked, the two boys would be in front of you.

"We've been keeping you in the dark, huh?," pondered Jungkook, handing you a freshly opened can of soda, "Sorry about that. No easy way to tell your best friend you're into her."

Oh. He was going straight to the point.

"I like you, if that wasn't clear already," he let out a breathless chuckle, attempting to hold eye contact but failing.

He was much better at this when he was working his way into your pants.

"And so do I," interrupted Mingyu.

Wait.

"Are you-"

"We both like you."

"I- Have you talked about this?"

"Uh, it's come up, yeah," Mingyu scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't really know what to say ..."

"We just ... You had fun the other night, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was great," you took a breath, "but we're friends. Right?"

You weren't sure if you were being rational or not. Did you like Mingyu and Jungkook? Sure. But together? At the same time? You had never considered such type of relationship.

"We- we don't have to be just friends," added Jungkook, not much confidence in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again, "We like you, and we know that you like us back. Maybe not in the same way, but you do. That night would've gone very differently if you didn't."

You could've lied. You could've lied and left it off as an amazing one night stand with your two best friends. But the thought of never feeling what you felt that night ever again was not something you wanted to risk. It wasn't just about the pleasure. You had meant what you said that night; you wanted a stable relationship. You wanted someone to call a best friend, but be more than that. Someone to hold you at night. The three of you had always been glued by the hip, but you had never really thought of what it'd be like to take the next step – to have them be that person (or those people).

There were just too many questions in your head. Would this change your relationship negatively? Would they actually want to share you? Would this go anywhere?

You opted for answering Jungkook's question with another question.

"Are you okay with both of you liking me?"

They looked at each other for a moment before Mingyu ultimately answered.

"We've discussed it," he started, "When we first realized we both liked you, it did cause some tension. But the closer we got to you, the more we realized that we just wanted to be with you. Whether as friends or as more, we just wanted you."

You gulped at the confession, feeling your face heating up all of the sudden.

"I- I don't know what to say, I- I like you too. Both of you. I always thought that it was just as friends, but ... there'd be moments where I'd wonder. And after that night, I just-"

Jungkook leaned forwards, grabbing onto your hands. He smiled, ignoring most of your words and paying attention to what he cared about the most – you liked him.

"You like me back? Us? Do you- We could treat you so right. I- I've wanted you since we met. I've liked you for so long and ... Not just for sex. We could be more," his words were slightly frantic in nature, almost as if he wanted to sell something to you.

He didn't need any selling. You liked him. It became more and more glaring by the minute.

"Nothing has to change. We've been friends for this long. Just ... That guy you're looking for? To settle down with? That could be us," added Mingyu, placing a palm on your thigh for reassurance.

"What happens if I say yes?"

Mingyu's eyes grew dark.

"Do you want the PG version?"

You shook your head, mouth agape as you looked to Mingyu.

His face lit up as he leaned closer and closer to you, lips approaching the sensitive spots he had discovered on your neck just a few days ago. Stopping for just one moment, he looked to Jungkook to gesture he sit opposite of you, making you become sandwiched by both men yet again.

Now with both boys kissing down your neck, you allowed your head to rest against the back of the couch, attempting to fight the shudders escaping your body at the sensation.

"As our girlfriend ... we'd take you on dates," Mingyu sucked at a particularly sensitive spot, licking at it afterwards, "buy you pretty gifts, keep you warm at night," he took a pause, licking up the length of your neck, "take care of you every day."

Jungkook continued from where Mingyu left off, leaving soft whispers of kisses under your ear, "We share you. We take you home, cook for you, protect you," he nipped at your lobe, "We love you like no one else could ever imagine."

By now, you were gone. Through their whispered promises, their hands had decided to intrude your space yet again. Jungkook's had found a home between your legs, running up your skirt and gracing at your cunt, but only enough to have you puffing out breaths of desire. Mingyu's had migrated upwards, lowering the straps of your dress and liberating your breasts, hands needy as they pulled and tweaked at your nipples.

"What do you say, princess?", Mingyu pulled away, lips reaching your own, "Wanna have two boyfriends?", he pecked at your lips sensually.

"Mhmm ...", you nodded pathetically, not trusting your voice.

Jungkook groaned at your answer, hand finally slipping inside your panties, "Good girl ..."

"Fuck, gonna treat you so good, gorgeous," said Mingyu, continuing to kiss at your lips tongue seeking your own.

His lips trailed down to your breasts, sensually licking at your nipples, gradually giving them more and more attention. By the end of it, you were crying at the sensitivity.

Jungkook continued to play with your cunt, driving his fingers through your folds at a rhythmic pace that made your hips take a mind of their own, grinding upwards with a complete lack of coordination.

You were so focused on Jungkook's fingers that you didn't notice Mingyu making his way down your body, now kneeling between your legs as his lips made their way up your thighs, marking them to his heart's contentment.

"So fucking pretty ... Been wanting your pretty thighs around my head for years, princess ...", he mumbled to himself, nosing his way towards your cunt. When he finally arrived, he nudged Jungkook's finger's away, sticking his nose against your cunt as he took a shameless whiff of your scent, groaning gruttaly against you.

"So good ... Fuck, need this pretty cunt so bad. Can I have it, baby? Hmm? Let me have a taste of this pretty pussy?" he asked between depraved licks of your cunt through your panties.

Hiccuping back a sob, you nodded, opening your legs wider as you took a hold of Jungkook's hand for support.

Needing no further confirmation, Mingyu went straight into your cunt, ignoring the obstacle of your panties by pushing them aside. In the meantime, Jungkook's hand went to your chin, turning your whiny lips to his own and giving you a languid kiss. His tongue played with your own, taking advantage of your constant cries of pleasure to suck at your tongue and bite your lips as much as he desired.

Your hands went from holding onto Jungkook for support to his pants, undoing the drawstring as he continued to kiss you. With shaky hands, you snuck your hands in, pulling out his hardened cock as you began to jerk it in your hand. Now you were even; equally pathetic cries being released into each other's mouths as you both chased your highs.

Beneath you, you almost missed the way Mingyu's hips began humping against the couch, groans being released into your cunt due to the stimulation. You were far too distraed by kissing Jungkook, but Mingyu's eyes were rolled all the way back as his hips became uncontrollable, cumming in his boxers just moments before he licked you to completion.

Even as you came, Mingyu's lips didn't leave your cunt, just as yours stayed on Jungkook's. The room was a mess of wet sounds of tongues as Mingyu finally separated himself from you to take a breath.

"Prettiest fucking cunt," he mumbled to himself as he let himself lay on the floor of his living room in exhaustion.

"C-cum! 'm gonna cum ...", Jungkook managed to mumble against your lips, attempting to pull back but being enticed by your lips to continue kissing. Your hands sped up at his warning, warning his pretty seed to coat your hands as he reached his nirvana.

With a last groan, Jungkook froze against you while riding his high, hips pathetic in their movements against your hand. Bringing up your hand to your lips, you made a show of licking the remnants of cum, grinning when you beard a unison of groans from both boys.

Out of breath, Jungkook leaned against you, cuddling into you with a satisfied yet smile.

"So, was that a yes?"

Mingyu made his way to the couch again, taking up the last bit of personal space you had.

You chuckled.

"Yes. That was a yes."

to read short 2.7k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, oral (f receiving), jerking off, cucking, penetrative sex, reunion sex, etc.

wc: 296 (teaser); 2770 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Fuck, missed you so much. You have no idea," whispered Jungkook against your neck.

After having cornered you in one of Hybe's many endless hallways, Jungkook had grabbed you by the hand and led you to an empty changing room, pushing you up against the door and burying his face in your neck. It was mostly innocent, sans the feathery kisses down your neck. His hands were still in appropriate places.

"I was only gone for a month," you giggled against him.

"A month too long. Do you know how annoying Mingyu gets when you're not around? Jesus Christ," he groaned in mock annoyance, refusing to separate from your neck.

Breathing you in, he hummed, arms wrapping impossibly tighter around you.

"Where is he, by the way?"

"What, not enough attention from one of your boyfriends?", he softly bit at your neck in defiance, licking at the mark he left when you jumped in surprise.

"No! Just ... Missed seeing you two together."

After only a month of entering a romantic relationship, you were embarrassed to admit, but you had become quite needy, always wanting them around. This had led to a few problems within your company, which was blissfully unaware of your three-way relationship, but still had to deal with how much closer you had gotten – especially in public. There had been a few more rumors as of late, though none actually traced back to anything credible.

"He's at the gym. Should be here any minute, though, since he knows you're back."

"Hmm," you hummed, disconnecting him from your neck despite his complaints, "Wanna start without him?" you grinned.

With a boyish nod and a peak of his bunny teeth, the pretty boy agreed, dragging you over to one of the empty couches in the room.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[deadsetobsessions]

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPT BY @out-of-jams

TOO MANY BEDS

DCXDP, GEN

——

The Wayne foundation was a giant in the corporate world. What made it impressive was that their company was based in Gotham where, despite or perhaps in spite of the frequent rogue attacks and general hostile environment, the Waynes managed to run a tight and efficient ship. Their operations run extremely smoothly.

However, that was not to say there were no mistakes. There were. Wayne Enterprises usually had enough-more than enough- budget to cover such mistakes.

The employees, after all, were humans (though their new CEO, Timothy Drake, might have been a vampire considering how pale he was) and were prone to make mistakes.

Thus, due to the nature of human mistakes, the visiting senior class of Amity Park’s Casper High found themselves in a rather baffling situation.

“Well, we can’t say there’s not enough beds.” Their chaperone-teacher, Mr. Lancer rubbed the back of his bald head.

Before them laid not ten, not twenty, but fifty five twin beds arranged in neat rows in Gotham Academy’s auditorium.

“What is this, the military?” Their other chaperone-teacher, Mr. Falluca, grumbled.

“It’s not like we haven’t slept in worse places.” Sam grimaced. The class collective shuddered as they remembered the junior camping trip from hell.

“Ugh, my hair is going to get frizzy if we sleep here.” Paulina muttered.

“I thought we were getting called here for cheer or something.” Star frowned. Her boyfriend of four years, Kwan, slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to comfort her.

The doors open as a harried Wayne Industries employee ran in.

“I am so, so sorry! This isn’t where we were supposed to have you stay but WE mistook the donation request and sent in beds instead of paying for hotel rooms!” They blurted out, looking panicked. “Your hosting class - we’ll have you meet them outside, maybe?”

“It’s fine, right guys?” Danny spoke up, arms crossed. Tucker hummed at his side, tapping quickly at his

“Yeah, whatever Fentina says,” Dash grumbled. After the reveal of Danny’s identity as Phantom, his hostility and bullying died a quick death. Though, Dash kept the nicknames as they were a hard habit to kick and there weren’t any malicious intent behind it. In fact, Dash quickly became one of Danny’s biggest supporters, hidden behind scowls and general posturing.

“We could just meet in here. Get rid of the bedframes and just have a giant sleepover while you guys get everything sorted out.” Valerie volunteered.

“That’s a great idea!”

The class, coordinated from years of ghost attacks, quickly assembled the giant floor mattress. Gotham Academy’s senior class filed in ten minutes later, gaping at the giant floor mattress(es) before whooping and joining Casper High’s seniors in tumbling around.

——

Danny threw an empty plastic water bottle at Kwan’s head.

“Hey! No PDA on the giant mattress!”

“Yeah, get that love shit out of here!” Someone else hollered.

“There might technically be only one bed, now, but it’s still multiple mattresses!” Stephanie Brown, one of Gotham Academy’s seniors heckled.

“Hey, Danny, it’s your turn for truth or dare!” Tim said.

“Truth.” Danny returned.

“Lameeee.”

“C’mon Fenturd, too chicken to do dare?”

“Danny, that’s so boring,” Sam smirked.

Danny scowled. “Hey, whose side are you on?”

Sam and Tucker grinned and said in unison, “The winning side, duh.”

Tim cut in. “So, what’s the worst thing that’s happened to you?”

Danny groaned. “Camping trip, no contest.”

“Camping trip?”

——

[solxamber]

Can I get baker boy Trey realizing that his S/O is a super secret spy for another country. Yet, when confronted, said S/O admits that they faked their death to be with him.

Cocoa Conspiracy - Trey Clover x reader

He knew you as his partner, the love of his life, but he didn't realize your real identity: a spy vying for pastry destruction

Trey Clover wasn’t ready for this. He thought he was just dating you—the quirky, adorable, slightly unpredictable person who occasionally knew way too much about the inner workings of a high-tech security system. Sure, sometimes you went missing for a week without warning, but he figured you were probably just... really into nature hikes? Who was he to judge?

But now here he was, standing in the middle of his beloved kitchen, staring at a government-issued spy dossier that read like something out of a James Bond fever dream. The worst part? Your face was plastered all over it, right next to the words “Top Secret Agent: Wafflia.”

Wafflia.

He had to read it three times before it clicked. “Dear...” he began, holding up the papers like they were a particularly burnt batch of cookies. “Why does it say you’re an undercover agent sent by the nation of Wafflia to... sabotage the pastry industry? What is this?”

You, who had just casually walked in, munching on a muffin like it was a normal Wednesday, paused mid-chew. “Oh. Right. That.” You glanced at the folder in his hands like it was an old grocery receipt. “I, uh... meant to tell you about that.”

Trey blinked. “Tell me? You meant to tell me?”

You shrugged, your voice a little too nonchalant for someone who’d just been outed as a literal international spy. “Look, babe, I can explain—”

“Explain? You’ve been sent to ruin all pastries in Twisted Wonderland!” Trey threw up his hands, a little more animated than usual, which was saying something. “Pastries! My life revolves around pastries! Why didn’t you tell me you were some kind of... dessert assassin?!”

You chewed thoughtfully for a moment, as if considering the best way to let him down easy. “Well, first of all, ‘dessert assassin’ makes it sound way cooler than it actually is. I mean, it’s mostly paperwork. And second of all... I didn’t really take the mission seriously. I was distracted.”

“Distracted? By what, the buttercream frosting?” Trey snapped, incredulous.

“No, by you.” You rolled your eyes like it was obvious, casually finishing the muffin. “You know, because we’re dating. Thought that was kind of important.” You flicked a crumb off your shirt, as if this entire conversation wasn’t wildly absurd. “I couldn’t exactly go around destroying pastries when you bake this good. Do you even know how hard it is to sabotage a cake when it tastes like it was baked by an angel? It’s basically sabotage-proof.”

Trey blinked. “Wait. So, you’re telling me the only reason you haven’t followed through with your evil pastry-destroying mission is because... my desserts are too good?”

“Yup!” You gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up. “Honestly, if Wafflia tasted your cupcakes, they’d probably call the whole thing off.”

Trey’s eye twitched. “...Wafflia?”

“Tiny nation. Mostly waffles. A little maple syrup industry on the side. Really not a big deal.”

“You are literally a government agent from a country that declared war on bakeries!”

You sighed dramatically, as if he was the one overreacting here. “Yeah, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that I faked my death to be with you.”

Trey stared at you like you had just slapped him with a pie. “You what.”

“I faked my death. Big explosion. Very cool. It was like something out of a Michael Bay movie, except with fewer explosions and way more sparkles. It’s kind of the Wafflian signature. Anyway, I’m legally dead now.” You leaned back against the counter, looking incredibly proud of yourself. “Did it all for you.”

Trey was about three seconds away from emotionally combusting. “You... faked... your death... so you could—”

“Ditch the life of a spy and bake tarts with you, obviously.” You grinned like this was all completely reasonable. “It’s called love, Trey.”

Trey had to sit down. He dragged a chair across the kitchen floor, the sound screeching in the sudden silence. He sat down heavily, trying to process the information bomb you had just dropped in his very innocent, pastry-filled kitchen. “So, let me get this straight. You were a secret spy for a country that wants to destroy desserts—the thing I care about most in the world—and you faked your death to... retire?”

“With you,” you corrected, grabbing a tart from the tray and taking a huge bite. “I mean, why else would I fake my death? Have you seen how good you look when you’re rolling out dough? I’m not giving that up.”

Trey blinked at you, his brain malfunctioning at the speed of light. “You—what—I just—how are you—”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Look, babe, relax. All I’m saying is, Wafflia thinks I’m dead, I think you’re hot, and your strawberry tarts are so good that I’ve basically retired from espionage to live out the dream with you. Problem solved.”

Trey opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, resembling a fish out of water. “...I don’t know if I should be flattered or horrified.”

“Why not both?” You waggled your eyebrows, licking the last of the tart crumbs off your fingers. “I’m flexible.”

Trey buried his face in his hands, groaning. “I just wanted to bake some bread. I didn’t sign up for all this—secret spy, faked your death, sabotage the pastry world—what even is this.”

You patted him on the back, still munching. “Hey, look on the bright side. At least I’m not sabotaging your desserts.”

Trey peeked at you from between his fingers. “And... what about other people’s desserts?”

You smirked. “Well... no promises. But I’ll probably keep it to a minimum. For you.”

He groaned louder.

I didn't know if you wanted it serious or silly, but i made it silly. let me know if you wanted it more serious!

Masterlist

[loftec]

Shameless DVD Commentary: None the wiser

I was tagged by a lovely anon over at @shamelessdvdcommentary to do this, thank you! Here we gooo

Which fanfic is your DVD commentary about?

The people (11 out of 20) have spoken! None the wiser

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

First published: 2015-09-23 (coming up on 9 years what is time??)

Last updated: 2021-12-11 (holy heck that's... shit! I'm sorry!)

Words: 218,480 and counting

Chapters: 53/68

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

A little bit of everything, mostly I'd been reading a lot of Shameless fic at the time and really wanted to write something that was both a really quite basic diner/coffee shop AU, but The Most version of it. The slowest burn, the most diner AU. I had no ambition for people to like it but I wanted it to be Known. If anyone ever asked for a diner fic, they'd HAVE to say, well, NTW is The Most diner fic we've got. If someone asked for slow burn, people would sigh and say, WELL, this one over here is the worst, but it is very slow. And also I was inspired by Before Sunrise / Before Sunset, and working in the music industry.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

I chose Mickey specifically because of the Concept, that Ian decides when the chapters start and end (with some exceptions) by going to the diner, but we're limited to Mickey's POV. Generally I think Mickey is easier for me to write, too, he's got a really strong voice and I like looking at the world (and Ian) through his eyes.

What was your favourite scene to write?

The whole banter/walk scene in chapter 44 when they leave the venue:

“Sure you and your lips can do whatever you set your heart to,” he says, “I believe in you.” Ian is silent, and when Mickey risks a glance in the direction of him and his non-trumpeting goddamned marvelous lips, Ian is looking at him like he’s some kind of unsolved mystery. ”What?” Mickey asks, frowning at him when Ian smiles. “Just a thought,” he says. ”You’ve been flirting with me since we first met, haven’t you?”

I had that whole back and forth leading up to the first kiss in my head for years before I got to finally got around to write it and I still love it.

How did you come up with the title?

It's from a song, one of the core songs I associate with this fic. My playlist now has 149 tracks on it, but the ones I consider "core songs" are None the wiser, Day After Tomorrow, Let's Dance, How I Made My Millions, Not Dark Yet, and Mosquitoes. I'm not sure I can explain why, but None The Wiser came on randomly when I was doing dishes and thinking about this fic I was writing, and the vibes just lined up in my head. Also I think it fits this version of Mickey I'm writing, who knows so much and has so much experience, but refuses to understand what's happening when Ian walks into his life.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

Oh, wow. Yeah. I always reference silly little things and I just have to hope people understand them, or tolerate them at least. I think one of my favourite bit of foreshadowing is in chapter 39 when people keep staring at Ian because they obviously recognise him, but Mickey thinks staring at Ian is a completely reasonable thing to do and is mostly just annoyed over how blatant they're being.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

I am struggling right now lol, I had meticulous notes for what I wanted to happen for every single chapter up until 45, and now half of them say "they text all day" and I'm like THANKS!!! VERY HELPFUL!! Also life and writers block etc etc.

Favourite line in the story?

This is such a hard choice, so I'll just go with this one from chapter 42:

“So,” Ian says, sitting back to sweep his arms out in a wide motion, presenting his solution. “I think we should go out for breakfast sometime.”

Because to me it pinpoints the moment when Ian breaks the format, in a way? They have met outside the diner before, but only on accident, and here Ian realises that it might be a problem that they only ever hang out at Mickey's job. But metatextually, he also highlights the narrative crux they're stuck in. I don't know, is that a boring favourite line? I have many, and I grabbed the first one I saw so I wouldn't get stuck rereading the whole fic lol. Do you have a favourite line?

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story?

So much, it's hard to believe because there isn't too much of a plot, but so much. My planned ending is so far from what it was when I started out, which is maybe one blessing that comes from how long it's taking me to write it, I have time to rethink things. I can't really talk about it now without spoiling the actual ending, but you better believe I will expose myself once we get to it.

If you are writing a particular trope or genre, was it your first time writing this?

I'd written fic for a different fandom ten years earlier, but nothing in this style I don't think, and this was my first time writing since I was 20 and stopped writing jrock rpf. I suppose I'm still writing about music, though!

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

One of the things I've always wanted to do with writing for Ian and Mickey is to let them have conversations, have things in common, and be friends. Because I think they were in canon, we just never got to see it (in the first 5 seasons, careful what you wish for). Guess I'm saying I'm proud of the bants!

Are there any deleted scenes that didn’t make it to the final story?

I don't think so! I mean, maybe the last 15 chapters? I kid! They will make it!

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

There is one line Ian says where, when I wrote it, I was like; this is the first time Ian thinks "I love you" but says something else. Cannot remember what or where right now, and I don't want to try and find it, it's late! Submit your guesses here, I might find it over the weekend if I have some time to look. Also, it's like one of those silly I love yous, one of the early ones, full of potential and feeling but perhaps lacking a bit in substance, but he thought it and I saw him thinking it!

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

Eh *coughs* I might already have, and I apologise. The worst part about writing something this slowly and posting the chapters as I go is that the fic isn't finished and so I feel like it's fine for me to sometimes go back and edit already published chapters. It's not right but I... will still do it. Sorry! A most embarrassing example is when, not too long ago, we discussed the layout of the diner here and I went back to the first chapter to see how I had described it, and it had changed in so many ways over the years? Small round tables?? The tables haven't been round since 2016!! So that's a very clear case of something having become canon for all the hundred little times I've thought of the tables as square while writing vs that one time in chapter one I carelessly said they were round.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

Yes! So many! Or maybe not a sequel, that suggests another part of equal size. But little bits of stories, yes!

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

Yes! Like I said, my only aim was to annoy my way to fandom infamy. Turns out it's so much more fun to actually connect with people and write something with someone else in mind, besides myself. I feel so lucky that so many people have connected with NTW over the years <3

Were you nervous or excited to post this story?

Mostly just excited, I think! I still am, whenever I get to post something : )

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

No, I probably should have but I have a very hard time showing things to people when they're not finished.

Ask your followers to pick a snippet (no more than 500 words) and share your thoughts about it.

Add snippets in the replies and I'll share thoughts, if you want!

Thanks for reading! <3 <3 <3

[jifloulette]

Unknown Number

pairing ; Sung Hanbin x gn! reader genre ; angst to fluff preface ; they say “to love is to let go” and that’s exactly what your ex boyfriend, Sung Hanbin wanted from you as he wanted to give his idol career one last chance, and who were you to deny? Being an idol was Hanbin’s dream after all. It wasn’t an easy choice but you knew how hard who worked for it so you decided to let go. It’s only then after a year, when Hanbin finally debuted in the famous ZeroBaseOne, you receive a message from an unknown number telling you that he’s the one and only, Sung Hanbin and he asks you to meet up with him. word count ; 1,452 author's note ; first fic in this account, i am so proud of myself for this omfg? hanbin has been in my mind SO MUCH so i had to make this, hope you guys like it ^^

"How long has it been? Has it already been a year already?", you thought. It was already a year after you and Sung Hanbin's break up. It wasn't an easy year for you, unlike Hanbin's. He was thriving, he debuted in boys planet as the leader of ZeroBaseOne! You were happy of course, but you had always thought that 'what if' Hanbin decided to stay? It was selfish to think that, yet you still couldn't stop yourself from doing so. You needed to let go of him after all, being an idol was Hanbin's lifetime dream. You knew how hard he worked as a trainee, and now look at all his efforts finally paying off! You still had dreams of the night Hanbin told you that he wanted to give his idol career one last try, even if it meant ending things with you.

♡

"Baby? Could we talk?" Hanbin said, who were you to say no? "Remember the time where I said there was this new survival show coming up?" he told you, "Yeah! You auditioned for it, right? Tell me what happened!" You replied to him fearing for the worst. "Well, I passed. The next few weeks, we're going to film the first few parts of the show! But this means, I..I want to end things..", how those last few words rang in your mind over and over again. "Baby? Did you hear me?", Hanbin's words brought you back to reality, "Yes.." you quietly told the boy in front of you. "I'm sorry baby, I really am. But you know how much I'll regret it if I don't show up." Hanbin apologized to you. Why would he? You knew this day would come, I mean he was so talented, handsome, and kind. The industry would want someone like him. "It's alright, I knew this day would come anyways. Good luck on your journey Bin. I know you'll debut!" you told him, showing him a happy façade but he knew too well that you wouldn't be that happy. "I've already packed my things while you were at work, and I'll be leaving tomorrow. I love you y/n, I always will." Hanbin reminded you, was those even the exact words he said? You didn't know anymore, you were too overwhelmed to think.

♡

Hanbin's group already had their second comeback this year, they were succesful! Most importantly, Hanbin was shining. Everyone loved him, he was popular in the industry. You needed to be happy for him, yet you still missed him. You missed his hugs, kisses, you missed the times he would cook dinner for the two of you every time you went home from work, you missed the café dates you two always had, but those are nothing but a memory of what the two of you had. You've supported him throughout the show too, making sure to always vote for him every day! You were happy, He was happy. Wasn't it supposed to be a happy ending now?

♡

Usually, you'd forget about those memories a few days after remembering them, but now, you can't get him off of your mind? Why? Because you bumped into him and one of his members in the café the two of you had dates on. You always went there if you needed somewhere to breathe and relax, you knew the people working there after all. You thought that this time would be like the others, but no. The universe really aligned the two of yours schedules just to give you a bang in your heart to remember all those happy times you had. He was with Gyuvin, he was a the table you two always rushed to back then because it had the best view of the scenery, it had the best pillows on the seat which was so comfy. You would sit there too once in a while, it made you reminisce the memories you two had. You wanted to sit back there because the sky was extra beautiful this afternoon, but it looks like Hanbin had the same idea. The second you went inside the cafe, you immediately recognized this laugh, it was Hanbin's. You took a glimpse of where it came from and there he was, Hanbin. You decided to avoid him and just order your usual. A mocha and 2 cookies. Hanbin also took a glimpse of you as well, which destroyed the mood for him because the reason he went back to this cafe was to remember you, not to see you. Gyuvin noticed it as well, "Hyung? What's wrong? Why'd your mood suddenly drop?", the boy asked Hanbin, "Oh It's nothing! Just spaced out haha.." he told Gyuvin. You got your food and sat at a table across him. Hanbin couldn't stop himself from taking a couple glimpses at you and the both of you made eye contact quickly, which surprised you, you quickly looked away from him. Your visit to the cafe was quicker than usual because you didn't want to stay there longer with him there too.

♡

The second you stepped home, you wanted nothing more than to breakdown. You wanted to talk to him, maybe even ask him to visit your apartment, but you knew he couldn't, rumors might spread, and you couldn't risk that for him. When all you wanted to do was to lay down and cry, you heard two beeps from your phone. You checked it to see if it was from work, but it was from an unknown number.

♡

"I know you might not want to talk to me but I was happy to see you there, even if we didn't talk. You looked good today."

"I miss you, i've always missed you. The second we filmed the first episode, I wanted to kiss and hug you."

"Bin..? Is this you?"

"Yeah, it is. How have you been?"

"I've been doing okay, could be better. How about you?"

"I've been missing you lately, I know it's a bit straightforward but I really have."

"I love you."

"Why did you only chat to me now?"

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with me.. I'm sorry."

"Are you serious? You know how much I love you, you know how much I care for you. Why would you think things are different now? I've always supported you too, from the show until your debut and now"

"I know it was stupid and selfish to think that you would hate me, after knowing that you support me, I hate myself for that."

"I love you, I hope you still know. Every time I'm on stage, my mind is always wondering if you're doing okay."

"I'm free tomorrow too, maybe you'd want to meet up at the café? Even if it's for an hour."

"Sure, maybe at 3?"

"I'll meet you there, I love you.

♡

"Fuck, I'm meeting up with Hanbin tomorrow." you spoke to yourself, did you even want to meet up with him? Of course you did! But what happens if rumors arise? Whatever, wait no. That's selfish! Your mind was so overwhelmed, so you decided to sleep it off.

♡

It was the day you were going to meet up with Hanbin. You were nervous, but happy. The second you went inside, you saw Hanbin at the table you both loved sitting at and he waved at you with the same smile that made you fall in love with him. "Y/n! It's been so long, you look amazing.." Hanbin told you, "Thank you Bin, you look good too." you replied. "Do you want some coffee? I could get you a mocha and cookies, my treat?" Hanbin asked you and oh boy were you so happy, Hanbin still remembered what you ordered, at the same table, at the same cafe. "Sure! Thank you!" you replied to him. After a good 2 hours, he told you "Hey, if you need me, I'll always be a chat away, alright? I'll reply as fast as I can. Well, I have to go now. Thank you for sparing your time for you y/n, I love you" and gave you a quick peck on the lips. You were speechless, I mean Hanbin just kissed you, how long have you wanted to feel his lips on yours again? You didn't know but all you cared was that he did just now. When you came back home, there was another message on your phone from him.

♡

"Thank you again y/n for today, I'll always be here for you, okay? I love you"

♡

Maybe the two of you could go back to how things were back then. You were happy of that thought becoming a reality. How you loved Sung Hanbin so much.

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

photos are not mine, credits to those who own them xo

[livfastdieyoung69]

hi!!! love your work. was wondering if you could write a randy orton x fem!reader where the reader gets real sick before a big PPV and has a main event match at the PPV, so she gets stubborn and tries to wrestle anyways but randy keeps telling her otherwise? would love some fluff, but angst can also be sprinkled in <3

A BITTERSWEETNESS TO THE AIR

The royal rumble is a huge deal for the entire roster of WWE, no matter which part of it you were on. Everybody wanted to be in it, because anybody truly had a chance to have their Wrestlemania moment, something everyone in the entire wrestling industry seemed to yearn for.

This year, you had gotten a spot- a good one too, number 22. Also this year, you seemed to coincidentally come down with the worst cold to have ever graced this earth the night before.

Racked with shivers all night- thank god Randy had been on Smackdown the night prior and had to go on a different plane, landing in an airport halfway across the state. By the time your sore throat forced you up, Randy was already driving to the arena in the cheapest rental car available. And with no Randy, that meant no one to hold you accountable for bad decisions. Not that he made very good decisions all the time, but at least he usually stopped your bad ones.

So here you were, driving to the arena- shaky hands, tired eyes and all. Luckily it wasn’t much of a drive, you had booked a pretty close hotel to the arena, but not close enough for it to be expensive. Pushing out of the driver's seat of your own cheap rental and slamming the door shut, blurred vision and congested sinuses quickly making you stumble and pause for a bit in your spot, gripping onto the side of the car for support. After the small pause, you unlock the trunk and heave the couple duffle bags with much more difficulty than you should’ve had.

With a tight smile, you thank the staff members holding the door open with a raise of your hand.

”Ready for a long night?” The staff member asked from behind you, still standing by the door, now closed. Surprised by the sudden voice, you turn back and raise your eyebrows in their direction. Your ears ached and ringed as they repeated their question.

”Oh, yeah! Yeah, definitely. Long but worth it.” You answered, voice much more nasally than usual as you smile at them. They were quick to become concerned at the sound of your voice, asking if you were all right. You nodded quickly.

“Just a small cold- some warm tea and lemon, and I’ll be alright.” With another tight smile and nod, wishing them luck in their work for the night, you followed the arrows directing you to the lockerrooms.

“Hey!” A voice cheerfully calls, your name sounding after. With a want to do nothing else but sit down for even just five seconds you reluctantly turn from the door, shoulders dropping as you put on a small smile for the sweet, smiling girl.

”Hey, Molly.” You say, trying not to sigh through your words. Much like the former staff member, Molly Holly seems to notice your sickness as soon as you talk.

“Oh Jeez, are you sick? But you’re in the rumble!” She exclaimed, somehow still happy through all of her worry.

“I’m fine, promise. Really.” You ramble off the same excuse used on the other staff member, but it didn’t seem to work as well on Molly Holly. She reluctantly nodded, taking a step back from you.

”…Alright. Y’know Randy’s here, I just saw him a second ago! I can grab him if you want?” Before Molly was even able to finish, you were rapidly shaking your head, eyes grown wide.

“Oh, no no no,” You shook your hands out in front of you, an awkward chuckle falling from your lips. “No, that's ok. He’s-hes busy and I gotta get ready and…stuff.” With another awkward chuckle and a stumbled, quick goodbye you pushed into the locker room, leaving Molly very confused in the hallway.

Sitting in the first available spot that met your eyes and beginning to rummage through your duffle bags, your other fellow superstars looked on anxiously at your state. With much trouble, you began the hard process of ring gear (specially made for the royal rumble and even more troublesome than usual) and just about gave up halfway through before declaring it was time to take a break, half dressed.

Falling back against the lockers you sat against and closing your eyes with a sigh in your half-clothed state, the door practically rips from the hinges.

”Randy!”

”You can’t be in here, what the hell!”

”Oh my god!!”

Screams tore through the locker room, all of which Randy seemed to ignore. He marched his way towards your form, now leaning up on your elbows and trying your best to look up at him through sore eyes.

“May I help you there?”

“Yes,” He stated, quite aggressively, tagging your name on. “You can. Why the hell did you not tell anyone you’re sick?” Rolling your eyes with a groan, you sat up against the back of the locker.

”Randy, I think I can make it through a cold for a chance at a title at Wrestlemania.” Looking up at him with a snarky look as he moved a bit closer, gently taking the back of your neck in one hand and holding the palm of his other against your forehead, he exclaimed your name.

”You’re fuckin’ burnin’ alive, baby, christ!” He pulled you in closer to him, resting your head to his stomach. The relief of all of his cold against your warm face, your eyes close with the first good sigh of the day.

“You’re just cold from walkin’ around in a speedo all day long, weirdo.” You mutter (even though you also have no pants on), leaning into his warmth. The hand on the back of your head starts to stroke your head, your own hand moving to rest of his leg. Randy ignores your comment, shaking his head down at you before he starts to speak, starting with your name in a warning tone.

“We’re going to go see the medics.” You look up at him with a glare but he gives you a scornful look with raised eyebrows, stopping you from speaking.

“And you’re going to take some medicine. Then I’m going to go talk to someone and get you out of the rumble.” Randy spoke as softly as it seemed he could, knowing how much it would suck to be in your position. Unable to find any words you only close your eyes again and rest your forehead back against his stomach.

“Okay?” He asks. You nod against him, whispering an okay back. He plants a soft kiss to the top of your head before moving away and grabbing the pair of sweatpants you had just taken off to help you put them back on. He walks you down the halls as you sulk, rubbing your shoulder through the itchy material of the top of your ring gear.

The doctor was quick to declare you not healthy enough to compete (as if it wasn’t already obvious) and moved onto their next patient from the match that had just ended quite shortly, leaving you to sulk further on top of the cushioned table.

“I’m telling you this with all of the love in my heart,” Randy started, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you to him. Your head finds his shoulder with a soft bump, breath meeting his neck. “You wouldn’t have won in the condition you’re in. You could barely walk here, you’ve got the highest fever I’ve ever goddamn heard of. You wouldn’t have won.” He pauses, holding you close to him. “But next year,” With another pause he puts his hands on either side of your face, bringing your forehead to his. Noticing the glare of tears framing your eyes, his hands grasp softly at your head, giving you a small, playful shake. “Next year, you’re gonna rock them out of the fucking park, baby. You hear me?” He asks with a little smirk. With a wavering smile and a couple sniffles, you give him a small nod, barely noticeable. He pulls you back into his chest with a hand moving to hold you close once more. With a choked sob, you bury into his shoulder with hands grasping at his back.

“I know.” You muffled into his shoulder, the both of you rocking back and forth. “I know, this just sucks. So fuckin’ much, n now I have to wait a whole ‘nother year, n I’ve already waited so, so fucking long, Randy.”

He pulls you from his neck, placing your head to his, cheek-to-cheek. He nods, almost forcing you to do the same against him. “Yeah. Yes, it's terrible, but this is just the universe saying not yet. And next year, you’ll be better, and nothing will ever stop you. Nothin’, so let's get this cold gone, okay?” Randy pulls away from you for the final time to help you off the table with an offering hand.

Taking his hand in yours, you walk back to the locker room to grab your stuff with your head held high and a small smile but tear-filled eyes. Laying against a disgusting and sort of scratchy sofa somewhere backstage, Randy leaves you to compete in the royal rumble very bitter sweetly, and you try to sleep with many thoughts clouding your mind- to find a way to be better, to be the best, to grow as an individual outside and inside of wrestling. A smile graces your face with one final thought- these people better be fucking ready next year, cause they sure as hell weren’t this one.

look at me go! sorry this took me so long but also i used you instead of y/n for the first time and i feel like my frontal lobe has developed (it absolutely has not) and omg not molly holly ratting you outttt

Set in 2004 idk y i just chose a year and i felt like that one ig

Techincally gender-neutral bc everything I write is, but a bit of a nod to being afab with randy not being wanted in the locker room.

[shitswiftiessay]

“multiple posts in support of the lgbtq community”

her LGBTQ “activism” pretty much started and ended with the lover era. she released the musical equivalent of “it’s ok to be gay,” she waited until she was in a blue state on the eras tour to even barely address the anti trans legislation that was being passed in OTHER states (states she had just performed in where her speech would’ve made much more of an impact). and telling people to go vote without specifying who you’re voting for or bringing attention to the important issues is not activism. it’s merely a voting reminder. which is fine, but, y’know, it doesn’t make you an lgbt advocate. which she promised to be as she accepted an award for it.

and despite the fact that she’s reportedly “spending a lot more time” in fuckass missouri to be with travis, she’s yet to say anything about the anti lgbt legislation being passed in that state.

she also went off tumblr because people asked her to talk about BLM and swifties act like it was the cruelest thing in the world to expect of her 🙄 but she made a whole thing in her documentary about wanting to be on the “right side of history.”

and taylor did the black square too so if you’re gonna attack joe for that 💀

and she made some promises on twitter to be “loudly and ferociously anti-racist.” then she went on to date racist pos matty healy… and use ice spice as a shield. AND she also made sure that her publicist let everyone know that the “controversy” surrounding matty’s racism had NOTHING to do with her decision to split from him.

so… yeah.

these same miserable fucking swifties used to praise joe alwyn for speaking out against men abusing their power over women in hollywood but now their whole blogs are basically dedicated hate blogs to him. because he committed the crime of not marrying taylor so now they’ve decided he’s the worst man on the planet. 🙄

meanwhile taylor’s working with rapist directors, hanging out with SA apologists and high-fiving an abuser at football games. her feminism and “advocacy” is limited ONLY to herself and it’s painfully obvious she does not give a shit about anything that doesn’t directly affect her.

also, joe’s name wouldn’t have been added to that ceasefire letter if he didn’t WANT it added. it’s a risk to anyone in the entertainment industry to openly support palestine and no one’s name is going to be “just added” without their consent. signing that ceasefire letter may be bare minimum shit, but it’s still more than anything Miss Americana has said or done regarding this issue, which is absolutely nothing, and you have to ask yourself WHY.

also if you’re upset about people saying that taylor was encouraged to be more political because of joe… idk what to tell you that’s literally a canon event that came straight from taylor’s own mouth.

and it’s not that i think she’d be a trump supporter without joe but… it’s pretty obvious that since they’ve broken up (and even in the year leading up to the breakup) she’s not dared to do anything remotely resembling activism or being “controversial.” if anything she’s just too fucking narcissistic and self-absorbed to care about anything going on in the world, just like her bestie selena.

[deathofacupid]

didn't see you there | peter parker

late christmas fic cuz why not

summary: what's a little cafe meet-cute?

the walls were coated with green, red, and white. christmas decor hung from corner to corner, draped against the walls.

there was a small christmas tree in the back, wrapped with tinsel and ribbon. small, shiny ornaments perched themselves upon the prickly branches.

holiday music rang from the speakers, and you twirled around, broom in hand. it was closing time and you were cleaning up before heading out.

"last christmas, i gave you my heart... and the very next day...

"you gave it away... this year..."

brushing pieces of trash and clumps of dirt into pile, you sang loudly, not concerned since you were the only one there.

the music was turned all they way up, and you weren't conscious of what was going on around you.

that's probably why you didn't here the chime of the doorbell, indicating that someone had entered.

at this point, you were doing less working and more... whatever was that you were doing.

"um— miss? i was just— i was popping in for a drink?"

you yelped, hopping backwards and jabbing the broom towards him. once you realized that he was not in fact a potential robber or bad guy, you lowered the weapon. weapon?

there wasn't much to work with in a cafe.

your cheeks were flaming hot, and you were just about ready to die.

the worst part?

he was 100% the cutest guy you'd ever seen. i mean, that had to make everything worse.

because now you couldn't even hit on him. poor guy probably thought you were crazy.

"...we're closed."

"oh, sorry. i didn't think you closed until 10:00. that— that's what the sign said outside, anyways."

"uh, yeah it's..."

9:51.

"oh. oh, i'm so sorry. i g-guess i lost track of time. i can take you right now, if you'd like."

strike two.

"yes, please."

you cleared your throat, face still flushed. "what can i get you... at 9:52, good sir?"

the boy (man?) cracked a grin, and your insides squeezed. he was just so damn pretty.

"one large black coffee. um, extra caffeine."

you raised an eyebrow, and he took it upon himself to further elaborate, "college student," he chucked, and that was enough for you to understand.

"well, that'll do it."

he laughed, "yep!"

"can i have a name for the order?" you didn't need it, but it was a good excuse to get his name.

"yes, yeah," then he paused, like he was trying to remember said name. "parker peter. wait, no— that's not what i meant. i-i don't know why it came out like that. peter. it's peter. parker, that's my last name... if you're wondering where that came from."

"okay... peter. cute."

you didn't ignore the blush that made it's way onto his face. maybe he didn't get flirted with often, you thought.

but then again, how could he not? peter was literally a greek god... like, what?

"so..." you started, wanting to break the silence, "what're you majoring in?"

"biotech."

"ooh, you're a science guy, huh?"

"yeah." peter was blushing again, you noted. why, though? did he think that was weird? or nerdy? well, it was nerdy, but in the best way possible.

"that's really cool!"

"you think?"

"of course!"

"um, yeah, i intern for mr. stark."

"mr. stark?" you racked your brain, trying to figure out whether or not you were supposed to know him. "...wait. oh my god, tony stark? like- like- stark industries? that tony stark?"

you were speechless. you knew that he had to be smart, considering he was in biotech. but this level? wow.

"mhm."

and, man, he seemed so modest about it.

"jeez, pete. that's insane!"

"thanks..." he glanced at your name tag, "y/n. that's a pretty name. what about you?"

"me? what about me?" you asked, banging on the side of the coffee machine. "damnit. this stupid piece of— ah-ha!" smiling as it started to work, you started filling up the large cup.

"major. wha-what are you majoring in?"

"huh— oh! i'm still in high school. i turn eighteen in a couple weeks. i'm a senior. y'know, at midtown."

peter's eyebrows shot up, "midtown?"

"hmm," you clipped on the top. glancing at the sharpie, you inhaled. you picked it up and scribbled down his name. and then, after a moment, you number.

"i used to go there. i knew you looked familiar. i'm a sophomore at college. you were... what, like freshman when i was there?"

"uh... yeah. something like that. that's so weird. i've never seen you around before."

peter winced, "um, yeah, i wasn't the most well known..."

you bit your lip, not wanting the conversation to drop.  "well, here's your disgustingly bland coffee, parker. sure you don't want any sugar or anything? a cookie, maybe?"

"no, i'm okay," he laughed, taking the cup from you. peter took out his wallet and handed you his card, which you took.

"sorry, again. for... you know."

"nothing to apologize for. you're good." pete furrowed his brows. "are- are you closing up yourself?"

you shrugged. "yeah. why?"

"no... it's just, it's really late."

"meh. i live, like, 5 minutes away from here."

"then i can drop you off? just so— just to make sure you get home safe."

"it's okay. besides, i still haven't finished," you gestured vaguely, "all this."

"i can wait. it's okay."

"pete—"

"it'd make me feel a lot better knowing you get home." he tilted his head at you.

everything about him felt so safe; you didn't even know him, but you already trusted him. he had that feeling that resonated off him.

"i—" you blushed, your insides squirming at the fact that he cared about your well-being. he was a stranger, and yet he still wanted to do this, so who were you to refuse? besides, it would be nice you stay and talk to him longer. "okay."

peter grinned, "cool!"

"just give me a minute." you cleaned up, wiping down the tables and pushing in chairs. "you know what'd be crazy?"

peter looked at you.

actually, you weren't sure if he'd ever looked away, because when you glanced up, his eyes were locked on you. "huh?"

"if you were, like, some kidnapper. and i just wouldn't know, because you'd be trying to seem nice, and then bam, you're dragging me to the trunk of your car. kinda like reverse psychology, but not."

he laughed, shaking his head. "how'd you know? man, you just blew my cover."

"don't even try it. i got a fancy red panic button on the underside of this counter."

"do you really?"

"yep... no. we don't. well, technically, we do. but it doesn't work."

"huh. okay."

the two of you went back and forth with little quips, making each other laugh, until finally, you were done. taking of your apron, you tossed it in the bin and hung up the cap. peter held the door open for you as you flipped over the "open" sign to "closed".

"you know, i normally don't let pretty boys walk me back home from work."

"well, i don't normally walk pretty girls home from work. so you should be flattered."

"i'll have you know that i am."

"how come you work so late anyways?"

you sighed, "we don't have... the greatest supply of money. my mom tries her best, but i like to put in the hours whenever i can to help. i do a bunch of extracurriculars because it looks good on resumes, and i only have time for anything else later in the day."

"i see. it's cool of you to help out like that. i'm sure your mom really appreciates that."

wincing, "she doesn't know i work this late. my mom doesn't get back from the office until 1 or 2am. it's nice i have a full scholarship. at least i don't have to pay for college. that crap is crazy expensive. or at least too expensive for us."?

"scholarship? that's awesome. where to?"

you shrugged, "midtown college. not as prestigious as their high school, but it's still something. majoring in graphic design."

"so you, like, draw?" his eyes lit up, "oh, is all that chalk art or the windows and board yours?"

"yep. you like?"

"yeah! are you kidding? that stuff's crazy. i could never."

you laughed, "thanks, pete. oh— well, this is my place. don't leak my address."

"no promises."

"and thanks, again. this was really sweet of you. it's nice knowing that there are still good people out there." and with a sudden burst of confidence, you kissed his cheek. "good night," you murmured.

you were too giddy and happy to look back at him, and you barely caught the farewell that rolled off his lips.

well, at least he had your number.

[allwormdiet]

Sentinel 9.1

Weld's lucky he's endearing, bc oh my god the ways he manages to step in it this arc

Bro, the city has been kaiju'd to hell, everyone who could use the airports to get out has gotten out, no money is gonna be made any time soon so business isn't happening, and nobody is dumb enough to come to Brockton Bay for pleasure right now. No shit the airport is empty. I'm more surprised that you're surprised by that.

Hey Piggot, sorry your job has gotten like a million times more stressful, hope you're hanging in there

Is robbing part of an airport profitable? That doesn't sound right but I don't know enough about airports or robbery to dispute it.

Also it's interesting to see economics and class inequality come up again, especially in the context of disaster response and response to disasters. The gap between rich and poor only gets wider in times of crisis, and the gap was already pretty fucking wide.

So, finally the PRT power classifications get laid out, having been introduced in Interlude 6 and mentioned again in 8.7. And it's mentioned explicitly as something that was used to sort out villains before eventually getting applied to heroes as well. Presumably an effort to know how to respond in case a hero goes off the rails, or maybe just trying to find more justifications to use the system. Dunno. Don't think it matters a ton in the grand scheme of things, trying to shove every power into a neat labeled box seems unproductive after a certain point.

Also yeah "Brute" is a bit of an unfortunate choice, with the additional yikes factor that they were specifically using it to describe villains at first. Like oh, don't worry about dishing out the punishment, it's a Brute after all.

I think Armsmaster would sooner chew off his other arm than retire, so there's definitely a story there

Also yeah Flechette locked in, as expected

This is the only real thing I can ding Piggot's standing for, I don't think it's hard to tell that a friendly rivalry would mean nothing in this context, so the fact that she's coming down on it for even existing feels like an overreaction. Then again, she's trying to bail out a battleship with a bucket, being humorless is hardly the worst offense in a time like this

"They weren't strictly homeless because they were squatting in abandoned commercial and industrial buildings" is certainly a perspective. When they talk about the intentions of Leviathan, it almost makes me wonder if the Docks were targeted to exacerbate things, get more people pissed and hurting and desperate. Between this, being able to target cities based off of social instability and potential media coverage, and possibly trying to eat or free Noelle, that's a lot of different factors possibly urging this attack and its behavior during said attack, and it might just be all of them at once. That's fucking freaky.

Also I think there was a mild slip-up here, calling Moist a Shifter instead of, I'm assuming, a Changer.

Shaper instead of Changer again

Interesting that Hookwolf is the head of the second Empire successor group, wonder if Krieg just didn't have the drive for leadership or got killed after the Endbringer stuff (thus not showing up on the memorial). Also mildly surprised that he's got the biggest number of parahumans.

The fact that the Pure have been rejected "for the time being" raises my hackles though, I've gotta be real. If the Protectorate/PRT actually stoop low enough to cooperate with fucking Nazis I'm gonna start feeling a lot less charitable

So three Masters is Skitter, Bitch, and Regent. I would guess that Skitter is the one they're concerned about, knowing Shadow Stalker's face, and that the other two would be who they consider possible sociopaths.

"Faultline's Crew" is a terrible name honestly. Coil and Faultline both just suck at naming teams...

Also 12 is the highest number we see here, which I guess means Labyrinth is on paper the most busted cape in the city. Good for her.

That's gotta fucking suck, never having a moment away from prying eyes whenever you're in public. How much of this is Weld being a champ and how much of this is Weld being resigned to this being his life?

That. Is rough.

So, that's something interesting. There's an interesting dichotomy between how parahumans can utterly wipe the floor against regular human combatants, even facing 25-to-1 odds with no purely defensive abilities (Grue's darkness can't stop a lucky hit) and coming out of it totally clean, and now there's this concern. We know that the early independent heroes got their shit rocked, Vikare got killed by a blow to the head during a sports riot of all things, so is there an upper limit on how many humans a parahuman can face at once? Does it hinge on how many parahumans are working together to face the threat, like could Grue only take on ten guys on his own if Skitter and Gregor and Spitfire hadn't been there to watch his back?

I'm probably overthinking this, but Piggot apparently considers it worth worrying about, so I won't dismiss the topic out of hand. Parahumans seem to end up above, below, or otherwise apart from the rest of humanity, and that separation could prove troublesome.

Gotta be strange to have your boss act like your dad, but needs must when you don't even remember who you are.

Also yeah fingers crossed Piggot holds to principles here, she doesn't seem the type but I've been disappointed before

Jesus Christ that's a really long-term plan. They've been at this since what, the late 80s?

Also interesting that the terminology uses is stated in-universe to be dated

So what's the "core" Protectorate team in this context? Is that at or above the standing that Armsmaster had before he derailed his own career? Are we talking Triumvirate level, or is there a middle ground I'm not aware of?

I also really really want to know what the meme was involving Weld, that's such a specific thing to have happen

I'm shocked that this would be considered frivolous. That's the kind of opportunity you'd normally seize with both hands, the idea of waving it off seems bizarre. Do they need the Wards too much to fight homicidal supervillains and disarm megaton bombs to let them *checks notes* get more kinds of training in? That feels shortsighted.

Then again a lot of things in Brockton Bay seem shortsighted. The greatest threat against Coil's grand scheme is his own impulsiveness (although easy money says that Taylor will become his biggest problem down the line), the Empire for some reason bothered with petty street crime and protection rackets while being run by, really cannot overstate this, the CEO of a pharmaceutical corporation that was doing well enough to have an entire skyscraper, and Lung put in like 1% of the effort he could've given to running the city. Maybe nobody is coming up with five-year plans because nobody is confident they'll live another five years, or maybe it's something in the water supply.

This is funny but it's so fucking rude, oh my God

Oh Weld, Weld no, do not think about Shadow Stalker like that, she'd corrode your dick off your body with her personality.

Oh, Weld. You have put your foot in your mouth already.

This story takes a pretty dim view of humanity, honestly. Poisoning an entire apartment block with chlorine gas just so you can loot it and take over feels extreme; I'm not gonna say it could or would never happen, unfortunately people are just as capable of evil as they are of good and there's not really a limit to how far either of those things can go, but for me at least it's somewhat curious that we don't hear more about any altruists in the city outside of the Protectorate; there would have to be good Samaritans somewhere in the mix, and not even most of them would've already been stabbed or beaten to death by opportunists.

Maybe that's just the perspective the Wards are giving us, but call me crazy, I don't think Taylor is going to be any more optimistic about how things are going.

Also, Clockblocker is jumping down Weld's throat here, but he's not strictly wrong. He's coming into this fresh-faced, having not dealt with any of the aftermath of Leviathan. The strain being put on these kids is intense, not least with the losses that the Protectorate suffered and the teammates they're still grieving. Fifteen hour patrols, Jesus Christ.

Bro got owned by a thirteen-year-old.

How did he not get briefed on the dead Wards? How did he not already look them up for himself? Someone, I think multiple someones, dropped the ball there. I'm also surprised that Weld even asked the question instead of just drawing his own conclusions or looking into it when nobody could catch him being a fool.

Current Thoughts

I do not envy Weld for the situation he's being thrown into. Whatever happens in Boston is clearly a different kind of ballgame from what they're doing here in Brockton Bay, and he has not been read into it yet.

I don't envy any of the Wards, this might be the most thankless position anyone in the city might be stuck with, and none of them are even old enough to buy cigarettes or vote, but they have to fend off looters and wade through waters tainted with death and ruin for hours at a time.

How many rights do you sign away taking this job, getting your ass put on the line like this when not even the military takes kids this young into combat? I think Skitter was right, this whole arrangement blows chunks

[catharrington]

Link to read on AO3

Steve’s inside a tiny pop up bar, hastily designed and constructed in a warehouse as if that made it more dangerous than anyother bar. They were becoming a thing in the 90’s he supposed, like oversized suit jackets or spiked-collars. And he liked them just fine. It was even deeper underground than most seedy gay clubs.

The people who drink here don’t mind that he's a hybrid.

They don’t mind his triangle-shaped ears atop his messy, brown hair, or the long fur-covered tail that relays every emotion he’s feeling out loud for the world to see. Even the bad ones.

Like right now— seeing a ghost from his past again out of the blue, just a few seats down the bar, has got his tail flicking against his stool legs. A ringing metallic flick-flick-flick.

Steve digs his claw into the bar top, leaving a deep crescent mark.

Since Steve’s seen him last, he’s doing well. He’s smiling and glowing and he’s put on a few healthy pounds. He looks like he could lift Steve up over his head if he wanted to.

The ice in Steve’s drink melts and breaks apart with a soft noise. Another man at the bar tries to flirt with him, a hot, whispered breath right into the sensitive fur of his ears, but… Steve makes no moves to actually listen.

Because Steve isn’t at the bar anymore. He’s sinking into golden quicksand— California beach scalding.

Steve doesn’t even realize he’s staring until his pretty ghost turns around.

“Harrington?” His breathy voice asks. Just as boyish and melodic as ever.

“Harrington,” he repeats in a hiss, “back to last names? Should I be insulted, Hargrove?”

“Sorry, Stevie.” Billy chuckles as he leans over the bar. Up close, Steve can see he’s got a strawberry blond beard defining his jawline.

“I’ve got to say, I’m surprised to see you in a place like this.” He sings.

Steve can’t say he disagrees. His lips quirk up. Playful, it’s in his nature. “I come to these all the time, Billy. I like the atmosphere. And the art. It’s very new-age-industrial.”

Billy watches him for a moment with curious eyes, scanning over his expression. And, like so many years ago, Billy’s sea foam green eyes can read Steve’s face line for line like a damn book: “Bullshit.”

“I’m here to try and get laid!” Steve gives up the ruse with a laugh. It makes Billy’s own laughter come out, just as pretty as the rest of him. Steve takes a long swig of his drink while he allows Billy to laugh at him. Then slowly licks the sour taste from his lips.

Can’t help but notice Billy’s eyes track that movement as well.

“Is that what you want to hear?” Steve pushes.

Billy shrugs. He swipes back a lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “Yeah, sure. I believe that before Steve Harrington: indie art scene groupie.”

Steve rolls his eyes at being called a groupie. It’s not the worst thing, by far. “Sort of unfair you asked me what I was doing here, when I should ask the same. I thought you were splitting town? Running away from your old man?”

Billy watches Steve, his eyes widening as their last conversation resurfaces. As it floats to the top of Steve’s crappy mixed drink as buoyant as an olive.

“Figured you’d be sunburnt in Santa Carla by now?” Steve asks.

He asks and really means it.

That daydream had helped him repair his broken heart, his bruised and bloody ego, his tail between his legs. He told himself it wasn’t really about him, it was Billy’s father who ran him out of town. It was Billy’s father who planted and watered all the anger. The fact Steve was a hybrid was just a convenient excuse. Low hanging fruit. Even if the words never left his mind.

Even if the words sat on the edge of his bed every night to remind him of his unwantedness.

Steve imagines it was worth it, in some way, to get Billy to a safer place. Yet, he’s turned up here. Only a day’s drive from Steve’s hometown. In a pretentious pop-up bar. Glowing, and radiant, and blushing.

Billy lifts one hand to scrub at his beard. He’s got an open beer bottle pinched between his fingers. Effortlessly calm and suave. He takes a long swig before answering.

“Funny thing about Santa Carla… it’s a long drive out there for nowhere to stay.”

Billy’s searching his face, his body, as if it holds the answers. His electric-blue eyes settled finally on his tail.

Steve’s got to turn and order another drink. His fur starts standing on end from all the wonderful attention, preening from it.

“So you gave up?” Steve asks, uncaring.

“Something like that. I got a job here, an apartment. It was temporary ‘till I got some money, but you know. I just. Never left.”

Billy swallows thickly next to him. Shuffling as he gets closer. His hand is right beside Steve’s own as it lays on the bar.

Billy’s got ink all up and down his arms, on his chest and neck. He’s even got pretty things on the back of his hand. A red rose with brilliant green leaves curling over the edges of his palm.

Steve’s own hand itches to touch. To feel the tattoo’s raised scars, and Billy’s hot pulse under them. He wants to trace each one as if he were playing with lines of sunlight across the carpet on a sunny afternoon.

Steve reaches for his new drink, instead. He shivers as he drinks it down.

“Chicago’s not like Hawkins, then, huh? Where you just had to get out, just had to run—or, what?” Steve can taste the hatred in his own words. Stuck in his throat like a hair ball.

He was simply ‘Harrington’ to him across the bar now, only that. Billy’s hands were red, alright, but it wasn’t from his fucking tattoo. It was from Steve’s heart still beating inside of them.

“Steve,” Billy insists, “you know why I had to—.”

“I know.” Steve’s voice shakes with a whimper. His tail finally stops and curls closer to his feet, hiding away.

Steve blinks his swelling eyes down to Billy’s neck. The ink there is pretty too. Under the collar of the soft band t-shirt Billy’s wearing, Steve can see the wings of a flying sparrow.

“It was nice to see you again, Billy.”

Steve stands from the bar, finishing his drink before dropping a bill in one swift move, expecting to run away. He’s expecting to leave, to try and forget. Again. Just like last time.

But he doesn’t expect the hand that reaches for his elbow.

He doesn’t mean to shake the hand and keep walking. He’s on autopilot, he thinks. Blackout.

Feeling injured and lonely, Steve’s ears flatten to the top of his head and his tail hides between his legs. It had started raining while he was in the bar. The sidewalks are darker now, louder, from the onslaught.

And that’s just fine. The raindrops are fat and slow and they remind him of himself. He gasps for breath in the rain, and gets a mouthful.

“Oh, great, I’m drunk.” He mutters to himself.

Steve closes his eyes though a wave of nausea, stumbling further into the night, and when he opens them it’s like opening them up to a dream.

Blond curls turning dark in the rain, flattening to lay around Billy’s face in a pretty frame. His skin, pink and flushed from the cold, illuminates the freckles on his face like stars in the sky.

“Trying to make us even?” Billy yells over the rainfall.

Steve eyes him wary at first, hesitant he’s real at all.

“Making us even would be me calling you a freak!” He hissed.

Billy’s face falls. “Suppose so,” he calls. “You have every right to.”

Then he opens his arms. Holding them out as if waiting for a hug. Or a bullet. His shirts totally lost in the rain, turning the well loved gray to a solid black color that clings to Billy’s every curve. His abdomen is very welcoming, cozy, Steve wishes it could be his to run into.

He wished he could be the bullet. That he could hit Billy’s chest right there. Right there. In the same place his wound still bleeds.

But Steve was drunk. And cold. And wet. And his tail and ears hung so very heavy on his body.

He stayed quiet, watching blissfully as Billy got wetter and wetter. Until he wasn’t angry anymore.

“I was so mad at you for so long.” Forcing the words one by one, Steve’s voice trembles.

He closes his eyes and lets his silly, love-sick heart surge up into his throat.

“After us, I’ve spent my whole life trying to find someone that fits just like you, but… you’re different, Billy. You made me feel safe. Content. Warm.”

Billy scoffs, his hands dropping to his sides with a wet slap. “Bullshit.”

“Is it?” Steve meows a laugh.

Billy’s face creases in disgust, in confusion. Water falls from his long lashes as he blinks them rapidly.

“Cool it, kitty. I’m not some damn PRINCE CHARMING! I break everything I touch!” He yells over the rain. Over the base of the music they could still hear from the bar. Billy’s louder than any of that.

“Then why don’t you try fixing me!” Steve yells back. He’s desperate and mostly drunk as he steps closer.

And suddenly, Steve notices how Billy still radiates heat. The years of time between them tick down to nothingness. Steve shakes his head, pointed ears flicking water, his eyes a mix of tears and rain, and Billy opens his mouth like he’s about to ruin it.

But then, Steve’s pawing at that strawberry blond beard growth that wasn’t there years ago. And he pulls Billy’s head down with a light gasp that gets captured by Steve’s eager lips.

It’s a sad excuse for a kiss, it’s messy and it tastes like chilled beer. But Billy’s lips are hot, familiar, it makes Steve let out a whimpering, shameful moan.

Steve’s hands grip Billy’s shirt. Now he’s the one holding on— now he’s the one chasing. His claws rip the fabric with the want he has for Billy to stay so terribly bad.

“I never meant to hurt you.” Billy admits in a whisper.

He reaches down to cradle Steve’s arms. Slowly lifting the claws from his chest. Steve would let him do whatever he pleased, he’s already a trained house cat for Billy.

Their fingers laced together, as if pieces slotting back into place. With their hands like this, it brings back happy memories. On Steve’s teenage bed, in the early hours of the mornings before the world around them woke up. When Steve’s tail would wrap euphorically around Billy’s legs. When his ears were flattened by the force of his happy purring.

Then, Billy’s moving. Pulling him through the rain until Billy leads them to, truly, a tiny and shitty apartment. The red brick building was painted but beginning to flake off. Billy held his hand as they took the steps, and into the hallway, before begrudgingly letting go to fish his keys.

He turns over his shoulder to watch Steve. Key in the door. Steve is shivering, hugging his skinny frame, his sopping sweater. He doesn’t know what Billy could be looking at, but he smiles.

Billy opens the door and leads Steve inside. They settle in their underpants with towels around their heads on the couch. Their shoes and outer-clothes drip drying by the radiator.

Steve feels so content and warm he doesn’t even realize he’s purring.

“Woah, I really, really missed that.” Billy drawls. His hand finally reaches Steve’s tail, gently petting the tussled fur as if he spent years longing for this exact moment.

Steve can’t help but to kiss him again.

((My entry into the @harringrovezine Kings of Nowhere. I loved making Harringrove older and slightly down on their luck and lonely, so when I heard the prompt I jumped at making some sappy reunion scene. Of course I’ve got to make this pretty kitty Steven go through it a little bit before he becomes the King of Billy’s shitty apartment. And his whole life, I’m sure 😽😽. Thank you so much for letting me write on this amazing zine, make sure to check them out for other fic and art. Harringrove always and forever!!!))

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- Zach Sang Show

Part 54

2016

“I’m hanging out in the studio right now with YN YLN”

“Hi. Thanks for having me” I smile at Zach

“Thank you for being here. How are you feeling? A lot is happening right now for you. This is your first solo interview, your releasing your first solo album and your going on tour with Justin Bieber. Like does it feel strange without the boys with you?”

“Yes really strange” I nod nervously laughing

“Have you spoken to any of them or seen them since last year?”

“Yeah we text each other at least once a week. I spent new year with Harry which was lovely”

“How do you feel about being solo?”

“It’s mixed emotions really. I’m so excited to release the album and go on tour, but I’m also so scared. Like when I was with the boys I had that constant support, if I forgot lyrics they were there to help me, but now I’m on my own”

“Let’s talk about your upcoming album. You let me listen to it before hand and it’s a masterpiece”

“Aww thank you” I shift in my seat

“What was the writing process like? You wrote My Everything/Ghostin’ and ‘Break Your Heart Right Back on tour didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I’m so grateful for Liam, Harry, Louis and Niall for helping me turn my thoughts into songs. They started off as random sentences in my notebook. I never planned on making them into actual songs but then Harry got hold of my note book and within a few weeks on tour we had wrote the two songs. Niall helped come up with the melody and Louis recorded it on his phone. Liam was just the hype man. I kind of forgot about the songs until it came to writing the album. I wrote ghosting in a day. It was a bad day with an ex and it just all came out. It wasn’t supposed to go on the album, I never finished it, but Harry was a huge help and he was the one who suggested to put them both on the album. I trust him and his instincts”.

“This album feels very personal”

“Oh 100%” I went through stages during the writing process for the album. I was angry. Angry at the men in my life who have hurt me. I was angry at myself for letting them, but then came the heartache, the questioning myself, like how could I have let the same thing happen over and over again. This album is a true break up album that goes through the emotions of wanting to leave that person, but being in your head and wanting to make it work”

“It’s almost like a diary entry”

“Yeah pretty much. I mean..” I sigh looking at the ceiling “for me me it’s about telling to world how I’m feeling, but in an enjoyable way I guess. I’m 22 now and if I’m not invested in these songs then what’s the point” I shrug

“Is that the worst part that it’s all personal?”

“No no not at all” I shake my head “I don’t have to pretend. I never want to pretend. I want to be open about what I’ve been through and what I go through”

“You look back to when you were on X Factor to your One Direction days to now as a solo artist, can you pinpoint what you’ve learnt”

“I was young when I started in this industry, I was the youngest member of One Direction, plus the only girl, I had a lot of other girls dislike me. I was ‘the worst member’” I said doing air quotes with my hands “at first it got to me. I went on antidepressants and I was speaking to a therapist multiple times a week, but I learnt that there’s no point listening to the hate. Most of them were jealous and I just think if you dislike my voice then just don’t listen. It’s hard to ignore it when there’s so many rumours and opinions”

“It’s life changing to let go”

“Oh 100%”

“I have to ask, how’s Cookie?”

“She’s great. She’s come with me today actually”

“Really? Can we see her?”

“Of course. Dad can I have Cookie?” I turn around to look at my dad. He nods his head and quickly goes to get my dog. I then hear her little paws running “Cookie! Hi baby girl” I pick her up and place her on my lap

“I feel like Cookie is your mascot” Zach laughs, I laugh along with him

“The fans normally get more excited to see her than me”

“Can we talk about going on tour with Justin Bieber? How did that come about?”

“It’s funny actually” I laugh shifting in my seat before taking a quick sip of water “while we were in LA last year we met Justin. He ask what our plans were for this year and when I said I was writing an album he asked me to go on tour with him to promote it. He’s been so supportive of the album”

“Ghostin/My Everything comes out this week”

“Yeah on Friday. It will be the anniversary of Alex’s passing. It’s going to be an emotional day, but I wanted to dedicate those songs to him. The music video will be a lyric video with photos and videos of Alex growing up. He was one of my biggest supporter so it’s only right I dedicate my first single to him”

“I just have to say you are so strong”

“I couldn’t do it without my friends and family. They are my crutches. I’m so incredibly grateful for them and I’m not sure I can ever repay them for everything they’ve done, especially my dad and Emma”

“Speaking of Emma she’s become part of your team now hasn’t she?”

“Yeah she’s my PA. I wouldn’t wake up on time if it wasn’t for her” I joke making is both laugh

“That’s all the time we have. Thank you so much for coming on the show”

“No thank you I had a good time”

“Good look with the album and tour. Your going to kill it”

“I hope so”

“YN YLN everyone”

[hannieehaee]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.3k (teaser); 8.2k (full fic)

release date: april 27th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: decided to write a little surprise fic!! ive been getting into bts lately and so this was born<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

...

read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

NOTE: it wont let me reply to people anymore but ill be tagging everyone who comments asking to be tagged just letting u guys know<3

[princess-from-another-galaxy]

I watched both parts of Lucas documentary and am so heartbroken. This incident has changed him so much, he's unrecognizable and in not the best way. This incident has killed his spirit and light you can tell he went through major depression and struggles mentally still. His self confidence has disappeared, he can't hold eye contact anymore. He's probably never going to be the same again. It's like night and day.

Can you please elaborate in just the part where Lucas exposed these crazy fans? I've followed the incident since day one but faded off so don't know how he exposed them at some point. Some people are saying that is the apology he is giving rather then admitting the rumours so It'd be great for that elaboration if not quick summary. I missed out on that time frame and would be so proud if he tried to expose the crazy stalkers. They're fkin insane, it's repulsive behavior.

Lucas (even by his own admission) had always been rather rude and aggressive with sasaengs (as he should!). A few days before the scandal broke out, he actually posted a pic on bubble of flymetothemoon (there's a 0 instead of an o there somewhere, but I can never remember where... sorry).

Anyway, after that that's when the rumors started. Originally just that he was a gold digger and cheated. SM did what they always do and made him give a vague apology. The day after, another accuser came out saying he allegedly also gaslight his gf's, I don't believe it was ever clarified how or about what he supposedly gaslight them. (Then a dude also came and accused him of dating and cheating).

After that, the dude's account disappeared (right after he said it wasn't true), and after awhile one of the accounts was sold and another turned out to have been a marketing account all along.

And now we're here.

A few hours/a day before the doc dropped, Lucas opened new official social media accounts (for his work as solo artist supposedly), and flymetothem0on was seen on weibo saying things that very clearly gave off the impression that she was directly involved in the scandal.

She is a known NCT sasaeng. Started stalking Mark when he was like 15 (still an SM rookie), has been known to stalk Yangyang, and just recently has began to stalk a member of NCT Wish, who is also a minor. So yeah....

And about what Lucas looks like, he went through a lot, including depression and suicidal thoughts, it's understandable that the experience has changed him. But it seems like his family and friends have his back and as his fans we should try to as well!

Sasaengs have way too much power in the K-pop industry. It's about time people started standing up to those disgusting excuses for people!!

EDIT!

Someone made an actual time-line that is more accurate than my vague recollections of the past few years! So here you go!!!

Also apparently there were multiple sasaengs that made the accusations, I had forgotten about that cause fttm0 is the worst one

[andystanberg]

Workplace Health and Safety [IronDad & Spiderson]

Word Count: 17,618 AO3 Link Summary:

Post-Homecoming, Aunt May makes Tony officialise Peter's internship with Stark Industries. However, Tony is deathly afraid of getting close to the kid.

It happens, anyway.

(Five times Tony Stark fucked up as a mentor, and one time he learnt how to be a dad.)

-

Heads up, the kid’s in a bad mood.

Tony scoffed at Happy’s text, hunched over his workbench to continue his latest Peter Project. Yeah, teenagers were perpetually moody (or so he had been told by various parents at various galas over the years), but this kid? His kid?

Peter always had a wise crack up his sleeve and a thousand too-long tales about his day that never really had a point. And he had just come back from school, on a Wednesday.

Tony was sure he’d soon be hearing all about how Señor Tomas snapped at him for not being able to roll his r’s, how APUSH after lunch was the worst when that old drone Mrs Crath couldn’t change her tone to save her life, and how Academic Decathlon was not the same this year without that Lisa, Liv, Liz or whatever girl.

Although, wasn’t Peter into that MJ girl now? Since Spring, the Liz mentions have been steadily replaced with wistful sighs over how cool his new friend MJ was.

Maybe the kid had worked up the nerve to ask her out and got rejected? That would certainly warrant some teenage blues.

Tony’s musing was cut short by the ding of the elevator, which echoed throughout the quiet of his lab. Before Peter, he always had music blasting in the lab, but since the kid’s internship had become official at May’s insistence, Tony always ensured he could hear the kid’s arrival on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. The only other sound was Dum-E’s quiet whirring towards the elevator doors. Tony suspected Dum-E liked the kid more than him.

The first time Peter came up to the labs by himself, after being issued all his security clearances, Tony had been so engrossed in his work and the music had been so deafening that he hadn’t noticed when the kid arrived. Peter, being too awkward to say anything, had simply started working at his designated bench on some homework from school. An hour later and Tony almost had a heart attack when he turned around, ready to yell at FRIDAY to call Peter to berate him for his tardiness, only to find the kid peacefully working away.

“Hey Dum-E,” he heard Peter quietly whisper to his robot friend as he entered.

“Hey, kid! Great timing – I have a new project for you.”

The kid walked in and dumped his backpack on the ground. Literally just right in front of the elevator.

“Woah, not cool, Pete. What if someone comes up here and trips over that? Throw it on the couch.”

“No one but us comes up here,” Peter muttered. Still, he picked it up and tossed it to the ratty couch pressed up against the wall, to the right of the now dim elevator.

“It’s about maintaining a standard. Workplace health and safety, huh, you ever heard of that?”

He frowned. Tony’s taunting didn’t seem to register. Instead, Peter came around to the other side of his workbench, eyebrows furrowed as he took in the mess Tony was tinkering with, and Dum-E following him from a respectable distance.

Normal Peter would have already sprung off a hundred and one questions about the project, trying to guess what this tiny circuit board, a jumble of wires, and bullet-proofing was meant to be. But this Peter just glanced at it, and then his eyes trailed off elsewhere, not saying a word.

Alright, maybe Happy was right.

“I’m trying to improve your suit,” Tony offered. “Of course, there’s that new one – that you turned down, might I remind you – but after your little fight with that eagle guy-“

“Vulture.”

“Yeah, don’t interrupt me when I’m talking, Underoos. Anyway, when that hawk thing kicked your butt-“

“He was a vulture, and I won!”

Peter was finally looking at him, and Tony laughed. Trust a teenager’s pride to win out against sullenness. Oh, he should share that tip with May – though, was it rude to assume he now knew more about parenting Peter than she did? Probably. He’d ask Pepper about this later.

“Sure, kid. What was the final count again? Three broken ribs or four? Anyway,” he waved a hand, taking delight in the indignation on Peter’s face, “I realised your suit’s too light weight if you’re going to be joining the big leagues.”

“I like my suit lightweight. Easier to swing in, and besides, I don’t need all that beefing because I actually have superpowers, unlike some people who are just old and rich.”

There was that Peter smile.

“Old and rich? Me being old and rich saved your ass from drowning, last I recall!”

“Wouldn’t need saving if your suit had deployed that parachute correctly!”

“Details, details.” He had already fixed that in the new designs anyway. Tony brought up the hologram screen on his workbench and ushered Peter around to join him on his side. “I know you want to keep it light, but we also need to give you some real protection, Pete. Your aunt made it very clear that she’d have my head if something happened to you, and I can’t let you run around Queens getting shot at. What if a bullet actually hit you? Then you’d be sorry you didn’t let this old rich man upgrade your suit!”

Peter laughed. “I’ve had like, ten bullets actually hit me, so I think I’ll be fine.” He leaned into the screen, examining the hasty ideas Tony had scribbled down, and some potential designs for the upgrade.

Tony stared in open-mouthed horror. “Please tell me that’s some youth slang.” Peter shot him a guilty look back. “Ten? Bullets?! How come this is the first I’m hearing about this? I’ve seen your medical records, kid, and I didn’t see anything about it then!”

“Well, you see,” Peter began, hands up in a placating manner, “I can’t exactly go to the hospital when it happens. With the no health insurance.” Tony’s face must have twisted more into anger, because Peter hastily added, “And mutated DNA! Super healing, can’t explain that, can I?”

Tony took a deep breath in. He pinched his nose. “So, how, exactly, did you manage to remove them?” A gut instinct screamed that he wouldn’t like Peter’s answer.

“Um, I didn’t- uh, never got a chance to. They’re all, you know, just chilling like villains… in there.” Peter’s hand gestured to his body.

Tony was going to have a heart attack. This was it. Helen kept trying to warn him- had told him to avoid unnecessary stress, said that his blood pressure was abnormally high especially for someone without a fully functioning heart, and here he was with a kid hell-bent on sending Tony to an early grave.

“But it’s not that bad Mr Stark! They’re not like, in any vital organs or anything, just the stupid ones. And you can’t even see any scarring!”

“Kid, I’m afraid to ask, but what organs do you consider the ‘stupid’ ones?”

“You know, like, the kidney-“

“Wrong.”

“Really?” Tony hated how genuinely shocked Peter looked. “Oh man, but I thought since there’s two of them…”

“We’ve got to get you to med bay. I can’t believe you. You’re supposed to be responsible!”

“It’s really not that bad, Mr Stark. The last time I got shot was months ago, No immediate danger, see?” The kid had the audacity to do a flip as if that would prove his point. Dum-E extended its robotic arm, giving Peter what looked like a high-five, of all things. “Can we at least work on the bullet-proofing for a little bit?”

“No!”

Peter turned those big baby-doe brown eyes on him.

“No,” Tony said again, extending a finger out.

“But then you’ll have to tell Aunt May, and she’ll want me straight home, and then you’re leaving my suit as is so the next time I get shot it’ll really be your fault.”

Tony cursed. When did his kid get so good at manipulation? He was spending too much time around Happy, that big softy. Tony knows all about the McDonald’s ice cream trips between school and here.

“Fine. But only for two hours. Your last hour will be spent in the med-bay, getting X-Rays.”

“What if the radiation makes me more spider-like?”

“I guess we’ll have to deal with it.”

Tony fended off Peter’s follow-up questions about radioactivity and the possibility of spiders in the med-bay getting mutated and going on a biting spree. Gradually, Peter fell into silence and began concentrating on the task.

They were testing different materials for flexibility, strength, and conductivity. Nothing worked well on all three parameters, and it was beginning to get frustrating.

“Let’s turn on the radio,” Tony suggested, noticing the kid flagging at the lack of progress.

The old metal box on his workbench crackled to life – something Peter teased him mercilessly for, because who had a radio in the age of phones, even though the kid’s phone was basically a brick – and jumped right into the middle of a news segment.

“-preliminary hearing tomorrow for his alleged attempt at stealing a plane from Avengers Tower, which crashed into Coney Island. It’s unclear whether Spiderman, a local vigilante who witnesses reported seeing falling out of the sky with the jet, was trying to help or stop the attempt.”

“Unclear?” Peter squawked. “I wrote a note!”

“It’s been reported that Toomes – known as the Vulture – has been offered a plea deal if he reveals the identity of Spiderman, who the state is considering prosecuting for charges of damaging city property, hijacking a plane, and attempted terrorism.”

Nothing new then, Tony mused as he switched the radio to something with actual music. They had been running that story all day. He had already investigated the plea deal claim himself to ensure it held no merit (and he didn’t bribe any government officials to make it so, although he would be donating to several of their kids’ schools out of the goodness of his heart). These reporters needed to get better at their jobs.

And as far as villains went, this was the best First Bad Guy a superhero mentor could ask for. The Vulture had been too preoccupied with stealing Tony’s tech to finish killing Peter (which, obviously, thank God and all that nonsense, Tony was petrified when Happy had called him in and he’d found Peter in the state that he was in – although that hadn’t stopped him from trying to make that point about a good First Bad Guy to the kid’s aunt when she inevitably found out).

Peter looked faint beside him. “C’mon, kid, they can’t charge you with shit if they don’t know who you are. And as if that eagle guy knew who you were.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve been pretty good at keeping your little secret, I’ll give you that. I’m, uh, proud of you, Underoos.” Peter got quiet at that. Had he gone too far? Wasn’t praise good for kids? Or was that just babies? “I mean, it can’t be that hard. I wouldn’t pay you if you were the type to let these things slip to the villain of the week.”

“You don’t pay me, Mr Stark,” Peter muttered before going back to running conductivity tests on various materials.

Hmm. Well, he’d have to speak to someone about that. Who even officialised all this internship nonsense anyway? He’d throw in health insurance, too.

“I’ll speak to the head of HR and get that changed. Really, you should have said something. You do alright work around here.” Then, uncomfortable at how sentimental he was becoming, Tony said, “Though when I was your age, I was building real rockets, not messing around with toys.”  

The kid got all quiet again. These mood swings were going to kill Tony. How many months did puberty take, anyway? Five? Six?

Normal Peter would have pointed out that Tony was the one who built all these so-called toys. Where the fuck was Normal Peter?

Maybe he was being too harsh. The kid saw stars in Tony’s eyes or something, so he changed tactics again. “Kid, seriously though, listen.”

When Peter still didn’t look at him, Tony sighed. This got Peter’s attention. He looked annoyed. Almost angry.

“I am proud of you, obviously. You know that. I see a lot of myself in you. More than that, I want you to be better. I think you will be better. My dad never-“

“I’m so sick of hearing about your dad!” Peter exclaimed suddenly, throwing his materials down. Of course, super kid, super powers, and the table indented enough that Tony’s glasses – his special glasses that he designed himself with FRIDAY installed – flung in the air, onto the ground, cracking. Then, the piece of steel Peter had been messing with (and he should’ve known something was wrong because Normal Peter would never have even experimented with steel for this project, knowing its absolutely shit thermal conductivity) slid off the now off-kilter table and crushed the remains of his glasses.

Tony watched as Peter’s head whipped from the glasses, to Tony, then back to the glasses. Dum-E followed those movements in an almost comical, if not equally infuriating, manner.

“Mr Stark, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’ll pay for new ones, I’m really sorry-“

“Great, that’ll be five thousand dollars’ worth of time and materials.”

“Five thousand! Mr Stark, I didn’t mean-“

“Oh, you’re so grounded, kiddo!”

At that, Peter looked angry again. Dum-E rolled towards him. “You can’t ground me!”

“I can. I am.” Dum-E spun around to Tony.

Peter stared back in a challenge. “It was an accident. An accident. You’re punishing me for an accident?”

“You screwed up!”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It was an accident-“

 “You should know better. Clearly, I was wrong,” Tony said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Dum-E rolled back and forth between the two, whirring unhappily.

“Why couldn’t you just leave me alone? Today I just wanted to come in, do my work-“

“Oh, so this is my fault?”

“- but of course, you couldn’t just stop talking and leave me alone-“

“Now you know how I feel, kid.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“I’ll stop calling you that when you stop acting-“

Dum-E, reaching a new level of distress, flung its arm around in a circle. It knocked Peter’s steel, which was attached to all its wires and electrical source, onto the ground. From the table behind, Dum-E’s arm swept a vial of white foaming liquid onto the ground, too, and instantly, the mixture began to spark before fully igniting. An inferno roared around Dum-E, and Tony suddenly remembered that the kid had been messing with flammable webs.

(“In case we’re teamed up, and your laser beams can set my webs on fire, and then I’d have, like, flame webs, Mr Stark!”)

Tony, being the responsible adult, ran towards the fire extinguisher and fire blanket in the corner of his lab. God, that kid was really going to kill him. First, he’d melt his robot, and then he’d give Tony a heart attack. Just perfect.

He was gearing up to yell at the kid some more when he turned back to the fire.

Peter was standing in the middle of the damned thing, picking up Dum-E, and screaming like all hell.

“Peter!”

Tony barely had enough sense to keep a grip on the fire extinguisher as he ran over to his kid. When he got closer, he could see Peter’s arms already blistering, then re-blistering as the heat continued to scorch him because he wouldn’t let go of that stupid robot.

He aimed the nozzle at Peter, letting the foam spray everywhere to dampen the flames. Peter was still screaming and still, stupidly, carrying the robot. He flung Dum-E to the other side of the room and immediately dropped to the ground, as if that was all he had strength for. Tony’s heart stopped.

He grabbed the fire blanket and ran in, ignoring the still scorching heat as he wrapped his kid up, picked him up, and started running like never before to the elevator.

“FRIDAY, med-bay! Now!”

Oh, god, the kid, his kid, was still screaming. “It hurts, Mr Stark, Mr Stark, please-“

One peak showed the damage all up his forearms, trying to heal themselves but only making the issue worse as his skin blistered even though his arms were still hot to the touch, opening wounds all over again as his kid kept screaming.

He was trying to pry the doors open before they had even arrived at the floor, and he stumbled out into the med-bay wild-eyed. “Help! Helen- someone- help me! My kid needs help!”

Why didn’t he become a doctor like his mother wanted? Why didn’t he have any first-aid knowledge? Wasn’t that a workplace health and safety thing? Why the fuck didn’t he have first-aid training?

All these thoughts raced through Tony’s head at rapid speed as he carefully set his kid down on a spare bed. He yanked open draws, pulling at rolls of gauze, but it seemed wrong to put that on without treating the burns first. How do you even treat burns?

And all the while, Peter was screaming.

That brought Helen running, and she quickly took over with the calm of a practised professional. She forced Tony into a seat away from the bed, but the curtains separating them couldn’t block out Peter’s agony.

Tony had fucked up so bad. The kid’s aunt was going to kill Tony. He wanted to kill him.

Burying his head in his hands, Tony stayed like that until Helen had gotten Peter as treated as possible for the time being. She made Tony apply some burn cream to his arms (where he had grabbed Peter’s burning body) before allowing him in to see the kid.

He looked terrible—almost head-to-toe wrapped in white, like some awful mummy costume that was only scaring Tony.

“Kid, what were you thinking?” Tony said, devastated as he dropped beside Peter. He went to take his hand but decided against it. Were fifth-degree burns a thing?

Peter, who had been staring at the ceiling, let his eyes fall on Tony’s face. “I had to save Dum-E,” he rasped.

Some vocal damage, too, then. Perfect.

“Pete. Dum-E can save himself. I had to program fire procedures into him ages ago. I can’t believe I’m going to have to program you, too.”

Peter barely smiled at that. “I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

Tony had to screw his eyes shut for a moment. Deep breath, Tony. “Peter. You’re my responsibility. You’re not allowed to get hurt. You’re my kid.”

“Stop calling me that, please,” Peter said weakly. The kid stared resolutely down at his hands.

“Oh,” was the intelligent response Tony managed to muster up. “Of course. Sorry.”

God, what kind of moron would do that? Of course, the kid didn’t want to be seen as his kid. Tony was probably disrespecting Peter’s parents, or his aunt, or… Or maybe Peter just didn’t want Tony saying that. Which was fine. Tony did just get him severely burnt. He wouldn’t trust himself with anyone’s kid either.

His nose was itchy, his eyes burning. “Um, I’ll just- I have to call your Aunt May. Inform your legal guardian, and everything.”

He frowned at the reminder of paperwork hell he’d have to go through now that he was sure the kid was alive. Two separate incident reports, at least, and since this definitely qualified as ‘grievous bodily harm’, he’d have to immediately alert Peter’s legal guardian (already doing), Peter’s head of department (which was, luckily, himself), and the head of Stark Industries’ Workplace Health and Safety (which was, unluckily, not him).

The latter posed a problem. Some normal manager couldn’t know about Peter’s injuries because when they inevitably healed themselves, that would be far more difficult to explain.  Did WHS fall into Pepper’s responsibilities? Did a CEO count as a head of department?

After he informed Peter’s Aunt May, he argued that point with Pepper until she made up a new role for herself, specifically as Peter’s head WHS officer. It felt good to argue with someone who wasn’t Peter, even though Pepper was more worried than mad.

“I fucked up today. I’m a failure of a mentor. Do you think I’m turning into my dad, Pep?”

“I didn’t know your dad, Tony,” Pepper said. “I’m sure you and the kid will patch things up.”

“Patch things up? We never fight. You know that. I didn’t say we had a fight. Why would we? The kid loves me. Did he tell you about the argument?”

“Tony.”

“Got to go, love you.” Tony hung up the phone as he stared down death herself.

“Where is Peter?” Aunt May demanded, stalking up to him in her blue scrubs. “What have you done with my kid?”

Which, ouch. Salt in the open wound much.

“Hey, nice of you to swing by! Did you guys meet on the web? Just hang here for a bit while I round up your friends, okay?”

“Tony, does the kid ever shut up?” Steve said over his comms.

Tony had been anxiously hovering two blocks away from Spiderman, making FRIDAY look through the walls separating them to keep an eye on his kid as Peter swung around fighting bad guys with those awful jokes of his.

He told himself it was because the kid’s aunt had threatened to kill him if he didn’t return Peter safely to her from now on, and not because he was also worried about a repeat of the lab incident. That was several months ago now, and although Peter had been cleared for a week after the accident, Tony hadn’t let him patrol.

He kept reminding the kid that he was grounded. It hurt that Peter was starting to resent him for it, but Tony knew it would hurt more if the kid died. So, he’d let the resentment simmer, and Peter hadn’t talked to him for three weeks. Big deal. They were fighting aliens, and Peter was here too because he couldn’t take no for an answer. But, for whatever reason, Peter had amped up the hating-Tony-for-no-reason vibe.

“Aw, Captain Rogers, I thought you loved my jokes!” Peter called out over the comms. “Unlike Iron Man. Iron Man is just some rich old guy who hates fun. Like Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“What happened to ‘Mr Stark’?” Steve asked.

Tony tsked. “Yeah, real mature, Underoos. Unfortunately, my Christmas ghosts haven’t visited yet, so I’m not feeling particularly charitable. One more joke like that and you’re getting benched.”

“Woof, someone’s getting touchy,” muttered someone that sounded an awful lot like Peter, the kid he just told off.

“Alright, that’s it.” He started steering towards Peter’s location. Peter must have spotted him, because seconds later the comms crackled again.

“C’mon, it’s not my bedtime yet!”

The little shit swung out of reach, and before Tony could chase after him, the remaining purple aliens on their hoverboards dove for Tony.

“Kid, when I get out of this-“

“What, you’ll ground me?” Peter mocked.

“Sheesh, I’m sensing some family tension over there,” Clint said.

“Or, wait, you won’t come to my birthday party?” Came the next snarky remark.

Although Tony had already felt a pit in his stomach form.

“Oh, you forgot about that, huh?”

No one seemed to miss the venom in Peter’s voice. Tony was scouring his memories. Had he been invited? The kid hadn’t texted in weeks. He remembered, vaguely, being told something by his aunt, like once.

Shit, the kid was sixteen now? And he’d missed it?

“Must have been a big one, Tony,” Steve said.

“Yeah, like his tenth,” Clint chimed in.

“Yeah, it was a big one,” Peter huffed.

Tony’s mouth was moving before his brain could stop himself or, better yet, obliterate himself. “Hard to feel welcomed to a party when you don’t talk to me for three weeks, kid. Let alone finding out from someone else.”

“Oh ho ho,” Peter laughed bitterly, “that justifies it.”

Steve, ever the negotiator, tried to intervene. Which was real rich, considering the whole Civil War thing was entirely his fault. “Tony, maybe you should apologise. It sounds like it was pretty important to, uh, Spiderman.”

And maybe that big dumb soldier had a point, but Tony was so full of anger and hurt and his kid didn’t want to be his kid. Yet, when he tried to put distance between them, he was the bad guy.

“Oh, as if you wanted me there. You hate my guts these days!”

“I hate your guts? I’m the ‘screw-up’!”

“I never called you that.”

“But you said it!”

“You screwed up!”

“I didn’t even know you guys were close,” said Clint, the awkwardness dripping from his words at the silence that followed.

Shit. Tony reeled his head in. The rest of the Avengers team (were they still technically a team?) didn’t know Peter’s identity yet. As if Tony would trust those buffoons to protect a secret so precious. However, if they knew Tony knew Spiderman beyond the mask, they’d be sure to interrogate him. Or trail the kid, and raid his school. Or whatever murderous traitorous bastards did these days.

“We’re not close,” Tony lied.

“If you guys are finished squabbling,” Natasha said in a cool drawl next, “we’ve got action in the three-storey walk-ups to the east.”

“On it,” Peter said, then came the tell-tale click of the comm being turned off.

“Underoos, you better not have-“

“He can’t hear you, Tony,” Natasha said. “And we need you to head north. Some of the bigger guys are converging on the Empire State Building.”

Tony stared after the retreating red heatform of Peter and cursed, turning off the thermal vision. He would track that spider down later and… do something. Report him to May. Or ask May for advice on how to reconnect with a teenager. Or… he’d think of something when it got to that point!

Turning, he directed himself towards the Empire State. It was safer for the kid to be in the east anyway. What if this building came down? Anyone in the immediate area would certainly die. Surely there were people working inside who hadn’t yet escaped.

“Steve, report. How is the evacuation effort going?”

“Not as swiftly as we’d like. One hundred civilians are still in the tower, elevators are down, and it’s difficult convincing people to walk down eighty flights of stairs when explosions are going off every few seconds.”

“Well, do they know that the explosions are only going to get closer if they don’t start moving?” Tony snapped.

“Don’t take your argument with your kid out on me.”

“He’s not my kid.”

Clint sighed. “There goes one theory. Though, it’d be real cold to miss your kid’s birthday. Did you at least get him a present?”

“I told you, we’re not close. Spidey doesn’t need presents.” He had, in fact, planned out a present. He was going to give Peter a Stark phone, one that they had been messing with the coding for together during quiet hours in their internship. Tony had fed the kid some lie about an unnamed superhero needing a durable but private phone for patrols (who patrolled except Peter?). From memory, Peter hadn’t questioned it and had excitedly chattered about all his troubles with a phone (from it being too bright, to too loud, to too loseable-). “You know what? Why don’t you focus on taking out aliens so innocent people don’t die today, Clint?”

“That was a bit harsh,” Steve said.

“Yeah, not really a safe workplace environment,” Clint muttered.

Tony briefly considered playing the Civil War card when an explosion knocked him sideways. His suit quickly righted itself, and he found that some of the hoverboard guys had followed him. They were grosser looking the closer he got, with nasty little scowls and small heads on their big bulging bodies. He blasted them off their boards and grinned to himself. Little bastards.

“What do these guys want, anyway? A tour of New York City's tallest buildings?”

He was half expecting Peter to chime in with, “Actually, Mr Stark, the Empire State isn’t even in the top five!”

Of course, no sound from the spider came.

“Wreak death and destruction?” Clint guessed. “Isn’t that always their M.O.?”

Tony was collecting a large amount of bombs the alien bastards were dropping as they flew around the city, so he supposed Clint must be right. As long as they didn’t blow the newly repurchased Stark Tower, all would be well. That damn thing had cost him more than it was worth, especially when he had plans of retirement soon, but he needed to be close to the kid to monitor his progress.

And step in as a real mentor. Happy had done a terrible job, clearly.

“FRIDAY, do you know how long until these things are set to detonate?” He held up one of the purple globes for FRIDAY to scan.

“Judging by their pulses, approximately thirty minutes.”

Tony sighed. He really was getting too old for this. “Excellent.”

Relaying that information to the team, they began working double time. Clint’s arrows sailed overhead in rapid succession, clearing out the alien guys while Tony blasted their ship to pieces. He finished dumping its remains in the Hudson River while Natasha, Steve, and his unmanned suits collected the bombs FRIDAY’s scanner, now knowing what to look for, revealed. The group worked from West to East in record time.

They weren’t quite sure what to do with the bombs, and so far, dumping it in the river was their only viable option, with just a minute left to go. So off to the East River they went.

Hopefully the city wouldn’t be too angry with them, although Tony had little faith that anyone but him (and his distant acquaintance, the perfectly adult-aged Spidey) would stick around to deal with the consequences. So, what, they blow up some fish? Less important than the Empire State Building, surely.

“Boss, incoming,” FRIDAY’s voice alerted. One of the aliens was flying towards them full-speed, half-dissolved webs hanging off him.

Oh, Tony was not looking forward to the scolding he’d have to hand down later. He could understand – maybe – saving human lives when you could, even if they were straight up villains. But aliens? Really, kid?

With all their hands full of the tiny purple bombs, none of them could block the attack, but as suited up as Tony was, he really didn’t care. This guy would just bump into him and away, like an unfortunate bug splatter across your car windshield.

But he didn’t account for the alien to reach for one of the bombs out of Tony’s arms, and drop it straight below them.

Natasha and Clint had just deposed their loads in the river, and Clint had already let an arrow loose straight into the alien’s grotesque, elongated neck. The bomb seemed to be heading for a building top with just a bunch of aliens webbed onto it, damn kid, but he asked FRIDAY to double-check to be sure.

“No pure human lifeforms remain in the vicinity, Boss.”

“Great, job done.” He’d turned to give the all clear signal – again, some old brick buildings or the Empire State Building, the city can choose – when FRIDAY’s voice chimed on again.

“To be clear, Spiderman’s mutated human lifeform is resting in the building.”

Tony dove.

He didn’t look at the count down in the corner of his vision. He knew what it said. He knew what it meant. But he could see Peter’s tiny red heat-form in there, on the bottom floor, lying out casually as if nothing in the world could be going wrong right now.

His desperate voice ripped out of his throat. “Kid, Underoos, you have to get out of there-“

“Spiderman is not connected to the communication system at present, Boss.”

These explosions were larger than the tiny ones that had been popping off earlier in the fight. He distantly registered the spray of water from the East River, the boom ringing in his ears, but all he could focus on was the roof of the building his kid was in shattering. The windows blew, then the building sides buckled, and then it caved in.

All on top of his kid.

He landed on the ground, stepping over rubble, trying to get FRIDAY’s thermal vision to pick up his kid.

“Boss, the rock layers are too thick.”

Tony ignored it. He knew where his kid had been. He’d start there. He started carefully hauling off pieces of building, but each piece he moved sent more cascading down on top of where Peter had been.

“Kid? Kid, I’m coming, just stay there, I’ve got you,” Tony said, words spewing out of him even though he knew Peter wouldn’t be able to hear him, even if he- if he was-

Natasha and Clint had made their way over from the river. They both looked as worried as Tony felt.

He killed his kid. His boy.

“The surrounding buildings need to be reinforced before any of the rubble can be moved,” FRIDAY instructed.

“My kid can’t breathe in there,” Tony snapped back. “We don’t have time.”

“Any further movement risks more damage, which could harm Spiderman. I advise reinforcing these points first, and then slowly excavating from the top.”

“We don’t have time!”

Then he heard a click in his ear.

“Guys,” Peter’s voice came, very strained over the comms, “guys, I might, uh, I might need some help if someone’s free.”

“Underoos!” Tony could almost cry from relief. “Are you okay? Talk to me, kid.”

There was a long pause, and Tony feared Peter had lost connection or had passed out or-

“I’m okay, but I don’t know how long I can hold this up.”

“Hold what up? The building?”

“Yeah.” Another pause. “Mr Stark?”

He was holding up the building? God, this kid was something else. They’d have to do some strength tests at some point, find out his limit. Tony flew to the building supports FRIDAY had identified, and got his mini drones to help lift them up.

“It’s okay, kid, we’re going to get you out. Can you breathe okay in there?”

“It’s not like this is my first time getting a building dropped on me.”

What?

“What?”

“Vulture guy,” Peter explained, his voice quiet and his breaths sounding raggedy and loud in Tony’s ears. “Before he went to steal your stuff. Dropped a warehouse on me. That sucked. Didn’t have m’suit at the time, ‘cause you took it. Thought I was going to die.”

Natasha and Clint shot Tony a sharp glare. He deserved that.

“No one’s dying today, kid.”

He relayed some orders to Natasha and Clint, and finally Steve rocked up on scene. Seriously, the Empire State building wasn’t that far, and the man was a supersoldier.

Putting aside his animosity, Tony made Steve help him lift the debris, carefully moving according to FRIDAY’s words.

“Mr Stark?” came Peter’s small voice again after a few minutes of silent work.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Can you talk to me? For a bit? ‘M just struggling to, uh, keep awake, and everything.”

Peter was definitely hurt. He must be. The way he was breathing, the way his voice got quieter and quieter, his speech more slurred…

Tony didn’t want to think about the extent of his injuries. He focused on the work at hand.

“Of course. Cap and I are starting to lift the most of it now. All the surrounding buildings should be fine, so it’s just a matter of digging you out in a way that we don’t send more debris down on you. You’ll be okay. We’ll get you out, we’ll patch you up, and we can-“

Tony stopped himself. They can… what? Watch movies? Get ice cream? That was something you did with your kid. Which Peter wasn’t.

“Can you visit me in med-bay this time?” Peter asked. Then, quieter, “I missed you.”

“I- uh, sure.”

Steve shot him a look. You don’t visit him? He mouthed.

Yeah, Tony was a screw-up. He knew that. “Kid, listen, I’m really sorry about this whole past few months. I want you to know that.”

“I know, Mr Stark.”

“No, but, I messed up. I failed you and I’m sorry.” He didn’t care that the others were listening in. All that mattered was that Peter was on the other end of the line, and he was hurt, and it was Tony’s fault, and if he died today the last thing they did together would be to argue. And that would kill Tony.

Another long pause. Peter’s breathing picked up, and Tony heard a groan of pain. “I’m really hurt you didn’t come to my birthday,” Peter just managed to get out. “I know it’s stupid, I know-“ another groan of pain- “I know you said we aren’t close, but-“ Peter cried out.

“Kid, it’s okay, stop moving,” Tony said. It was hard to focus when his kid was hurt, his head clouding with the emergency of the situation. “That was stupid of me to say. I’ll make it up to you.”

The pile of rubble, now considerably smaller, began shifting by itself. Tony and Steve fell to the ground and just barely got out the way of falling buildings pieces when another large push gave way to Peter, his arms outstretched as he threw the last of the debris off himself, and then promptly collapsed where he stood.

Thank god the kid still had his suit and mask on, because the tell-tale buzz of news helicopters had begun to converge on their location. Now that the imminent threat of alien invasion was over, the news vultures would be fighting to get the best shot of the tentatively reunited Avengers.

Tony flew over to Peter. His suit was torn in several places, but his chest was rising and falling – albeit quickly. He wouldn’t be able to check his head until they were safely back at the tower so Tony scanned the rest of his body. His heart twisted when he saw the big metal rod impaling Peter’s right leg, the blood soaking the crimson fabric into a deep wine red.

He blasted the metal rod off from the concrete beam it had been attached to, picked up his kid rod-and-all, and made a beeline for the tower. Whether Steve and the rest followed was none of his concern. Mission completed. The only thing that remotely mattered now was Peter.

The med-bay was up and running, anticipating his return, and Helen quickly took Peter into one of the private rooms. He let the other doctors check him out while Helen worked, even humoured their requests to bandage various superficial wounds, but brushed them off when, after an hour, Helen finally came out and said he could see Spiderman.

The door clicked shut behind him and Tony stood awkwardly over Peter’s bed. The kid looked so small out of that suit. His head and leg were wrapped in thick gauze, and although Helen had wiped the dust and blood off his hands and minor injuries, the kid was in desperate need of a shower. His curls were flat on his pale forehead, and his eyes barely focused in on Tony.

They had kind of made up, but would Peter remember that? He was almost certainly concussed. And maybe he’d only forgiven him in the heat of battle.

Tony had fucked up again today. There was no forgiving that.

“Hey, Mr Stark,” the kid said, weakly smiling up at Tony, “d’ya think we could get ice cream?”

Now that Peter and Tony were back on talking terms, Tony’s life was a lot calmer. He finally gave the kid his new phone, although Peter had vehemently tried to reject it on the grounds that it was too expensive of a gift. Their Saturday internship, which on the books was scheduled for six hours, became three hours of messing around in the lab and three hours of movies.

(“Mr Stark, have you seen that super old movie with that weird looking alien?”

“E.T.? That’s not that old, kid. I was like, twelve, when it came out.”

“Exactly.”)

Aunt May had been informed of both building incidents (it seemed like neither knew about the first) and was incredibly pissed that first, Tony had taken Peter’s only means of protection against the Vulture who had been deliberately targeting Peter, and second, that Tony had let Peter work on his own.

For any future world missions, Peter was to be buddied or benched.

Their Mondays and Wednesdays continued as usual, bar random fires. The kid had returned to his normal, happy self. He even dared to ask if Ned and his new ‘friend’ (“She’s just a friend, Mr Stark!”), MJ, could come visit the tower sometime. Tony, not wanting to upset their newfound balance by denying his kid something, made Aunt May talk to Peter about the implications of MJ being near his spider tech.

That woman was a lifesaver.

Today was a Wednesday, and Tony was out on a walk with Pepper, passing time until he could finally see the kid again.

“I mean, he’s just so great, Pep, you really should meet him.”

Pepper wore an amused smile. “I know, Tony, I keep asking to meet him. He’s a good influence on you.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “Talking to him makes me think that I could be a dad. Isn’t that crazy? Like, I barely keep that kid alive and here I am thinking that makes me worthy of fatherhood. But he’s just so great.”

“I don’t think it’s crazy. You’d be a great dad.”

“Really?” He caught Pepper’s eye. She seemed serious as she kept walking through the park. “Because, you know, I had this dream. And it was crazy realistic. Scary, honestly. Like dream-walking. Peter told me about dream-walking, the kid watches some crazy stuff online. Hey, Pep, slow down, slow down.”

“You’re totally rambling. You lost me.”

“You know how you’re having a dream, and in the dream, you got to pee.”

“Yeah.”

He proceeded to tell her about the dream he had last night, the one with their baby girl Morgan. Although Pepper confirmed she wasn’t pregnant, Tony was only a little disappointed because it was a Wednesday, and he still got to see his kid that very afternoon.

“And, I need this thing in my chest because what if the kid needed me?”

“Imaginary Morgan?”

“No,” Tony waved a hand, “I mean, yes, if we had a Morgan. But we don’t. I mean the kid. My kid.”

Pepper nodded in understanding. “Peter.”

“Yeah! He can’t just be swinging out there with no one to watch his back. What if a building collapses on him?”

“Buildings don’t just fall down, Tony.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Before he could argue his point further, another fucking alien invasion started in New York City. If he did have a kid, they were moving, that was for certain. Would this cut into his internship time with Peter? He had better wrap this up quick.

Just as the alien of the week geared up to punch him, his kid came swinging into the scene. Didn’t he have school today?

“Kid, where’d you come from?”

“Field trip to MOMA!”

Then they were in the heart of the city, and that stupid wizard was getting sucked up into a spaceship and so was his kid. So then they were in space. And then a planet, and then they were fighting another alien with a stupid glove.

And his kid was doing brilliantly, of course. But Tony was worried sick. He didn’t trust these random other aliens, who were apparently working on their side, led by that Lord guy.

Thanos got the glove, fucked off to Earth, so then, with no working way home, Peter and Tony began to help up their new tentative allies.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Peter said, approaching Mantis. “How does your, um, power work? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I touch and I feel. I can try it on you?” said Mantis, her weird alien antennas bobbing towards him.

“Woah, stay away from my kid,” Tony said, stepping towards them.

She already had her hands on him. “You feel excited, curious. And disappointed. Thanos is very hard to beat. You did a good job, Peter.”

“Of course he did.” Tony watched the exchange unhappily. He didn’t trust this woman for a moment, and he wasn’t going to take his eyes off this kid.

“You feel very happy. Like he is your father.”

Tony’s head whipped to Peter, who avoided his gaze as he stepped backwards from Mantis. “He’s not my dad.”

Mantis cocked her head, as if she didn’t really understand what Peter was saying. Honestly, Tony was surprised aliens could speak English, so maybe she had misunderstood Peter’s thoughts.

“Is that how you see me, Peter?” He asked, smile on his face as if he didn’t care what the answer was. As if this was a joke. His heart pounded in his chest.

“No,” Peter said, still not looking at him. Tony frowned.

“That is a lie!” Mantis said. She was back beside Star Lord.

Tony didn’t say anything else for a moment. This day had been a lot. He was exhausted and it was making him emotional. They hadn’t taken down the big bad guy, but the majority of the Avengers were on Earth, which was apparently where Thor was heading. If this ragtag alien pirate crew had managed to almost take him down, he was sure Earth would finish the job.

His only job now was to get Peter home safely.

Everyone tensed up.

“Something is happening,” Mantis said, moments before she disappeared.

Tony looked for Peter instantly, but the kid seemed fine. Just shocked, and confused.

But then one by one, their companions disappeared. Tony held out hope that it was confined to the alien-adjacent people up until the Doc also began to disintegrate.

“There was no other way,” he said, and then he was ash.

“Mr Stark?” Came an unsteady voice from behind him.

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t happening.

Tony felt like this forsaken planet they were on had stopped moving, the breath punched out of his lungs as he turned around to his kid, slowly wobbling towards him.

“I don’t feel so good.”

The kid looked at his hands, and then back at Tony.

“You’re alright,” he said. Because of course Peter was fine. Peter was- Peter was his kid.

He was fine. His suit had every upgrade imaginable, to fend off every possible injury. They’d go home and they’d laugh about this. The kid would tell him how cool it was to go to space, even if it had been entirely against Tony’s orders.

He’d get Peter ice cream, and then he’d scold him, and Peter wouldn’t listen because he was a kid, and kids don’t listen. And- and Tony would ground him again. For good this time. Because he’d be fine, obviously, but Tony was so scared right now and he felt like his soul was dying and Helen would get mad at him. His cardiograms!

“I don’t- I don’t know what’s happening,” his kid said, stumbling towards him until he was falling into Tony’s arms.

Tony gripped him with all his might. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. Nothing was happening. They were just… hanging out. On a planet. Where everything was fine.

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go.”

And still, Tony had nothing to say. Because his kid was fine. He could feel parts of his kid – his fucking kid – disintegrating underneath his hands but his kid was fine. They had ice cream waiting for them. He’d even let Peter force him into a Star Wars marathon. He wouldn’t even complain, he wouldn’t, he swore, because he’d do anything for his kid to be alright.

They dropped to the floor, Peter’s legs giving out. Tony laid Peter on his back, not letting go of his boy even as his panicked whispers gave way to silence, even as the arm that had been clinging to Tony’s shirt falls away into nothing.

And the kid looked at him. Even though it must have hurt. Even though he must have been so scared. The kid looked right at Tony.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. And then he was gone.

Tony’s hand fell to the ground, clenching dust that had once been Peter. But that couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be real. Peter was always fine.

The blue woman said something behind him. Tony didn’t care. He didn’t listen. Whatever she had to say wouldn’t matter. The world had ended.

He sat there, clutching his hand. Was the dirt streaked on it from Earth? From Peter?

Peter.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the dust to take him too. And he found he wasn’t even scared. He just sat there, waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and the dust never came.

And he was just stuck here, on this planet with a blue woman, without his kid.

Tony fixed things, of course.

Once he finally pulled his head out of his ass, he shook off the five-year long stupor and fixed things. He brought back his kid, introduced him to his other kid, spent months in hospital, lost an arm, built himself a new one, the usual.

The kid and his aunt had nowhere to go once they came back from what people were now referring to as ‘the Blip’, as if his kid hadn’t died in front of him, as if Tony hadn’t spent five years grieving, as if it was all just a silly little blip.

Tony had taken them in, moving Pepper and Morgan back into the city because that was Peter’s home, and he had two kids now. Pepper was angry, but understanding, and Morgan…

Well, she loved Peter.

Who wouldn’t?

He kept meaning to find Peter and his aunt a new apartment, but with the city suddenly overwhelmed with double the residents, space was scarce. And, well, it was nice to have the kid around.

Anytime Tony got that awful, tight, fearful feeling in his chest, he’d look up, and Peter would be playing Mario Kart with Morgan (and letting her win), or he’d be quietly studying at the table for when schools reopened, or he’d be looking for Tony with that awful, tight, fearful look on his face too.

Aunt May had started a charity to help clothe, feed, and rehome the blipped, and Tony poured copious amounts of money in as anonymous donations. He was fairly certain she knew who was doing it, but she never asked, and Tony never brought it up.

The kid’s friends had, and he couldn’t believe he was saying this, thankfully blipped with him, so they were the same age. He couldn’t imagine his kid coming back and finding out his friends had graduated, gone to college, and moved on.

Tony would never have moved on, at least.

He hadn’t gotten around to signing the paperwork to end Peter’s internship during the five years (he refused to read anything further on those papers than Reason: Employee death), so he was grateful he didn’t have to mess around with security clearances for Peter.

School went back, Peter and May found a place and moved out, and Tony spoiled his little baby Morgan (seriously, how was she growing up so fast?) to keep his mind off the gaping hole from his other kid no longer being within eyesight every second of every day.

There were more large scale attacks – Peter’s identity got revealed in one, but they dealt with it – and then Peter got rejected from MIT.

He was away with Morgan and Pepper when that happened, and he almost flew back when he saw the news about Spiderman fighting some robot-octopus-guy until he watched Peter win, and he thought that was that for the weekend.

And then he got the call from Ned and MJ.

“Um, Mr Stark, sir?” Ned said over the phone. Peter must have given him the number at some point, which was wildly irresponsible. Although, Ned had hacked into Happy’s phone before, so perhaps that was it.

Either way, it must have been important.

“Yeah, what is it? I’ve got an angry five year old waiting to make an igloo when all I have to work with is mush, so speak quickly.”

“Is Peter with you?” MJ asked, worried.

Tony was already sending for one of his suits, signalling to Pepper to get Morgan inside. “No, he’s not with me. We’re in Canada. Have you lost him?”

“We can’t find him,” Ned confirmed. “Peter was trying to get that Doctor Strange guy to do a spell and make people forget his secret identity, but it backfired, and now there are people from different dimensions trying to fight him, and his apartment blew up, and-“

“What?”

“It’s on the news,” Ned said.

Tony immediately got FRIDAY to pull the footage. Oh, no, kid.

They were replaying the scene – police converging on a burning building, blurry body cam footage showing Peter in his suit holding a woman –

His aunt. Oh, god.

And then Peter ran.

“Do you have any idea where he might be?” MJ cut in, impatient.

“No, he’s- he’s not with me. I’m coming back, hold on.”

Ned ended the call. He spun around to Pepper, who was holding onto Morgan and her pink snow jacket, and he was sure he was as pale and as unsteady as he felt, because she already knew.

“What’s happening with Peter?”

“I have to- Pep, I have to go. I have to find him.”

Pepper nodded, and Tony stepped outside into the waiting suit. It flew him down in record time, but it was still too slow, because it had been hours since May had died, and no one knew where his kid was. FRIDAY played the news over his suit speakers, listening as the police manhunt for Peter spread further into the city.

Tony checked his tower first – maybe Peter would be in his old room? But no, it was still made up for him, untouched. Tony cursed and flew off again. He was about to check the school when the skies began ripping open.

Figures made of light peered in through the rips in their universe’s fabric, reaching arms out. Tony followed their gaze to the Statute of Liberty, where Peter was conversing with Doctor Strange. Wasn’t Stephen the one who had gotten them all into this mess? God damn wizards.

He flew over in time to catch the end of the argument.

“-make everyone forget me! That would work, wouldn’t it?”

“No,” Tony’s voice cut in as he dropped beside the pair. “Are you kidding? Someone mind filling me in?”

Stephen grunted, holding a glowing magical cube in his hands. “These beings are from other universes, searching for Peter Parker. It’s going to rip apart our reality as we know it.”

“Well, why don’t we make other universes forget about this Peter Parker? And keep it so everyone who knew before Mysterio still knows.”

“It’s a complicated spell to pull off while our universe is dying.”

“Thought you were a grand wizard, or something,” Tony retorted, staring him down.

“Mr Stark, it’s fine, really-“

Tony held up a hand. “Shut it, kid. The adults are talking.”

“Mr Stark, this will fix it.”

“I’m not losing you again, Peter. Five years without you was hell, and I’m not going to pay that price twice.”

Peter snapped his mouth shut. Tony looked back to Stephen.

“We’re trying this. We try everything first before we resort to that, got it?”

The wizard must have grown a soft spot for Peter (who can resist?), because his gaze flickered to the boy before he nodded. He began weaving, the strain taking a noticeable toll on the wizard, as Tony pulled Peter into his arms and flew him down to the ground, then stepped out of the suit to hold him properly.

Peter fought him for all of two seconds, before his arms went limp beside him and he began to shudder.

It felt eerily similar to that planet, so Tony gripped his kid tighter. “I got you, Pete. You’re alright. Everything’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“Aunt May- she’s-“

“I know,” Tony said, ignoring the tears he felt burning into his shirt. “It’s okay, kid. It’ll be okay.”

“I screwed up. This is all my fault. I just wanted-“

“It’s not your fault,” Tony said firmly.

“You don’t know what I did,” Peter tried to protest, but Tony shook his head, his non-prosthetic hand pressing the back of Peter’s head into his chest again.

“You can tell me all about it when we get home, but I know enough. It’s not your fault. You were just trying to fix things. I can’t fault you for that. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Tony pressed a kiss to his hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I should have come home as soon as I saw you fighting that damn octopus-“

“He was actually pretty nice,” Peter said. He laughed weakly, before sobbing again. “Aunt May- she, uh, she really liked him.”

Oh, how much had he missed in those two days? How had Tony screwed the pooch this badly?

At least he was here now.

He brought Peter back to the tower that night. He pulled the couch out and he held Peter while he cried himself into exhaustion. The kid had lost so much, all over again. He remembered the feeling, the soul-crushing, whirlpool feeling of so much grief.

“Your room’s still made up, if you want,” Tony said when the kid stopped crying and began to stare blankly at the ceiling, if only to get the kid to react and avoid the horrible numbness for a second longer.

“You kept my room?” Peter whispered, his eyes turning to Tony, although his head stayed put.

“Yeah, kid. You were always welcome to stay, you know.”

Peter nodded, then closed his eyes with the effort. “Can I sleep out here tonight?”

“Of course. Let me get you some blankets and pillows.”

When Tony returned, Peter’s breathing had evened out. Hopefully the kid wouldn’t dream tonight. He carefully tucked the blanket around Peter, and gently lifted his head to place a pillow underneath. He lingered for a moment, before turning to make his way back to his room.

A hand shot out to grip Tony’s shirt.

“Can you stay here? For a bit?” Peter asked, grip unrelenting. He looked so young and scared.

“Sure thing, kid.” Tony settled down next to Peter, back propped up against the couch, arm carding through Peter’s hair as he slowly and uneasily fell back into a slumber.

Only when he was sure that the kid was in a deeper sleep this time, Tony carefully used his left arm to twist his prosthetic out of place and set it on the floor beside them. Those tiny movements still caused Peter’s face to pinch, although he didn’t wake.

When Tony went back to carding through his hair, Peter’s face smoothed out.

The world forgot Peter Parker was Spiderman, which was fine and dandy until it came to explaining why a 17-year-old from Queens was frequently sighted with the Tony Stark, saviour of the world, ender of the Blip, et cetera.  Pepper and Tony spread the news that he was Tony’s personal intern, which was technically true.

Peter had been living with the Starks since Aunt May’s passing. Tony was happy that Morgan had accepted Peter moving back in with all the care of a six year old (“Peter’s gonna play Mario with me again!”), and even happier that Pepper had readily signed on to the guardianship papers. They were co-guardians of Peter, officially, until he turned eighteen in six months.

And then they were sending him off to MIT.

Now that the admissions team had forgotten about his controversial Spiderman antics, they had readily accepted Peter. Offered a scholarship, too, which Tony made sure to celebrate. Peter hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of it, but when he came home from the last few days of school to Tony, Pepper and Morgan presenting him a homemade (and sloppily iced) cake, Tony hadn’t missed the way his eyes had teared up.

(“Seriously, Mr and Mrs Stark, you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. This was all Morgan’s idea.”

“And call us Tony and Pepper, Peter.”)

Tony had considered buying a place in Massachusetts, but Pepper had been against the idea of moving again, at least for a few more years. Peter had also adamantly protested, saying he needed to learn how to be an adult on his own.

The kid didn’t seem to understand that he had already grown up more than he needed to; that out of everyone, Peter deserved someone looking out for him, too.

Later that week, Tony, Pepper, and Morgan were dressed in sunglasses, hats, and large jackets as they made their way to Peter’s graduation ceremony incognito. He had told them they didn’t have to come if they didn’t want to, “but it could be nice- if, you know, if you guys are free.”

“I bought an apartment in Boston,” Tony confessed to Pepper as Happy drove them. “In case the kid needs it.”

“Tony,” Pepper admonished, shaking her head. She was smiling at him, though, so she wasn’t angry. “You don’t have to worry so much. He’ll be fine.”

Tony shrugged and avoided her gaze. “It’s just a precaution. What if his roommate is evil? I don’t want him out on the streets.”

“Tony.”

“I mean, obviously, the kid is going to keep Spidermanning. And he needs somewhere safe to go, right? What if he got hurt on patrol or something? You know how much he hates the hospital.”

“Tony.”

 “What, you think I should get a private doctor for him, too?” Tony turned back to her. Pepper grabbed his hand. Under her gaze, he acquiesced. “He’s our kid, Pep.”

She rolled her eyes, but her tone was affectionate as she spoke. “Which is why I know he’ll be fine. He has an overbearing dad looking out for him.”

Tony shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. “Don’t- don’t, um, say that stuff in front of him.”

“Who, Pete?” Pepper laughed, but she cut herself short at Tony’s glance. “Oh, come on, Tony. You’re telling me you’re not like his father at this point?”

“Peter- Peter doesn’t see me like that.”

“And what are you basing this off?” A pause. Pepper sighed. “That argument from like, seven years ago?”

“It was two years ago to him,” Tony reminded her, his head buried in his hands.

“Morgan, tell your Dad he’s being a silly-head,” Pepper whispered to their daughter, who lit up at the opportunity.

“Dad, you’re a silly-head!”

Tony chuckled. “Don’t you start, little miss.”

Happy pulled up to Midtown School of Science and Technology and fought his way into a car park. Their family bundled together and kept their heads down as they quickly walked inside, finding a place at the back to avoid attention, even though Tony desperately wanted to be right by the stage. Once inside the hall, Tony took his time looking around.

They’d never been to Peter’s school during the few months they’d been his guardians. Tony had been afraid of another media circus and wanted to respect the kid’s privacy as much as possible, just like he did with Morgan. But his graduation? No way was Tony missing that.

The hall was decorated with gold and silver streamers and a sparkly banner that read “Class of 2025”.

Tony teared up at the opening speeches, even though they were the boring, same-old recycled stuff from teachers who droned on and on.

“And, now, Midtown’s very own Peter Parker, for his valedictory speech.”

“That’s Petey!” Morgan exclaimed, jumping up in her seat. A couple heads spun around to them, and Pepper quickly got her to sit down.

Tony was clapping so loud his hands hurt, his eyes glued to the stage. Peter hadn’t told him about this. God, of course, his kid was a genius after all. He looked great in his robes, and the gold valedictorian stole draped around his shoulders was just the cherry on top.

“Tell me you’re filming this,” he whispered to Happy, who was seated to the right of him. When he didn’t get a response, he looked over to see Happy with his phone out already, his eyes equally as misty as his own. “You big softy.”

Happy sniffled.

“Thank you for this great honour, Mr Harrington,” Peter began, and a hush settled over the crowd. “As many of you know, the majority of our class was blipped. It wasn’t easy for us to adjust to our new classmates, our new world, but I know it was equally difficult for our teachers to catch us up to the new curriculum. Especially because some of us weren’t caught up on the old one, either.” That drew laughs from the crowd.

Peter’s speech continued, Tony hooked on every word as he drew in the sight of his kid, who was clearly nervous but settling in the more he spoke.

“That’s our kid, Pep,” Tony whispered as the speech wrapped up. He fought the urge to stand in his seat as Peter went to sit with his classmates. “I wish his aunt could see this. She’d be so proud.”

When Peter crossed the stage again to collect his diploma, Tony did stand up and clap. At least most of the other parents were also clapping and cheering, so they blended right in.

Happy and the Starks darted back to their car just as the ceremony wrapped up, and it took another half an hour until Peter joined them.

“Sorry, Mr Stark,” Peter began as he opened the car door, “Ned’s Lola was there and-“

Tony wrapped him in a hug. “I’m so proud of you, kid.”

Peter returned it. “I’m not a kid anymore,” he mumbled into Tony’s shirt. Tony just laughed, and ushered him in the back.

“What do you want to eat?” Happy’s gruff voice came from the driver seat.

“Me?” Peter looked around at Pepper and Tony, who nodded. “Oh, I’m fine with whatever. You guys don’t have to go out of your way for me.”

“Come on, Underoos, it’s your night. We’re celebrating you.”

Peter hesitated just a second before tentatively suggesting, “Thai? There’s a place in Queens that Aunt May and I used to go to.”

“Thai sounds great.”

It was such a good night. Tony should’ve known the next day would be shit.

He was in the penthouse, idly switching through TV channels as he waited for Peter to come back. He’d taken Morgan out to get sandwiches and it was taking longer than usual for them to return. Tony didn’t think much of it – Peter had probably taken Morgan to get ice cream, too. His little girl had Peter wrapped around her finger.

His fingers paused over the TV remote when Peter’s face flashed across the screen. The kid looked angry, and he had a hand out to prevent the reporters from getting closer to him; the other hand reached behind his back where Tony could just spy the pink ruffles from Morgan’s dressing peaking out.

The footage cut to a young, blonde woman holding a microphone standing out front of Joe’s Gelati. “People are speculating that Peter Parker, a seventeen-year-old graduate from Midtown School of Science and Technology, is actually the secret son of billionaire Tony Stark after a video from his graduation has gone viral.”

The footage changed again. It was obviously taken on someone’s phone, the film shaky and blurry as it zoomed in on Tony, in his glasses and hat, among a sea of people in a dark hall.

“Is that Tony Stark?” Said a boy’s voice from behind the camera. “Woah, that’s Pepper and their daughter too.” Sure enough, the phone turned to catch their whole family, even Happy, sitting down at Peter’s graduation.

The dingy speakers barely caught the announcement, “And now, Midtown’s very own Peter Parker, for his valedictory speech.”

The camera caught Morgan standing up and pointing at Peter. Then, it flipped to the stage to show Peter walking on for his valedictory speech. It then turned back to Tony, who was obviously tearful, clapping, and smiling.

The footage cut back to the reporter outside the ice cream shop. “We’re currently live outside Joe’s Gelati in Manhattan where Peter Parker has been spotted buying ice cream.”

The next shot was inside the ice cream shop. The crowd of reporters and paparazzi had swelled, bright lights flashing as Peter tried to block his eyes from it while simultaneously shielding Morgan. The poor kid looked frazzled from all the lights and the noise, holding onto Morgan’s hand as he tried pushing through the crowd to the outside. Morgan looked angry too, especially when two cones were knocked out of her hand, and it seemed like she was about to start yelling when Peter scooped her up in her arms and shoved outside.

“It’s okay,” Tony could just barely make out the words over all the shouts, “I’ll buy you another one, Morgy.”

“Peter! Peter!” one man yelled as he walked in front of the pair, shoving a microphone in his face. “Did your dad buy you into MIT?”

Peter’s frown intensified, pushing Morgan’s head further into his shoulder as he tried to brush past. Another reporter blocked his path. Morgan peaked out from Peter’s chest, scowling.

“Morgan! Why have your parents kept your brother a secret?”

Morgan stuck her tongue out at the man as Peter pushed his camera away from her.

“Leave her alone, man, she’s only six.”

Someone reached out to grab the arm Peter was using to hold Morgan. Peter’s other hand shoved him away, and the man fell backwards with a grunt.

On-screen, Tony watched as Peter’s anger twisted into panic. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry-“

“Did you get your dad’s anger issues, Peter?” Came the next question from a snarky TMZ woman who shoved yet another microphone into Peter’s face.

“He’s not my dad!” Peter exclaimed, frustrated, just as Happy’s big build appeared in frame, blocking his two kids from the camera.

“Show’s over people,” his gruff voice called out as he led the two into his black car.

Thankfully, once his kids were out of sight, the news quickly moved to their next segment. Tony got up from the couch and paced in front of the elevator to the penthouse. Pepper joined him.

Someone had already reported the segment to her, as she was on the phone to what Tony assumed to be a lawyer.

“An assault charge would be ridiculous. Yes, I know they might go that route just so they can get their little story, but Peter’s a minor, the proceedings would be private anyway. Well, just have that counter-lawsuit ready in case they get any ideas.” Like him, she paced back in forth in front the elevator until it dinged.

The unhappy trio walked inside. Peter was still carrying Morgan, and Happy had his arm on his back.

“See, look, there’s Mummy and Daddy, everything’s okay now,” Peter whispered to Morgan as he gently set her down. Morgan held onto his hand though, still scowling even though her trembling form gave away her fear.

“I don’t like those people, Peter,” she said, stepping closer to him as Pepper rushed over to check her over.

Peter carefully pried her grip off him. “I know, Momo. But you’ve got your mum and dad here. They’ll look after you.”

He gave her a weak smile, ruffled her hair, and then brushed past Tony, face back to stormy.

Tony looked to Happy, who shrugged. “He’s probably just shaken up from everything. Give him some time, Tony.”

Not liking this, Tony knelt down to Morgan too. “You okay, Morgy?”

Morgan shook her head. “They were really mean to Petey. They said some mean stuff about you, too.”

“But are you hurt, Bambina?”

“He kept me safe.” Then, after considering for a moment, her lip wobbled. “I dropped our ice cream. Is Peter mad at me?”

Tony looked in the direction of Peter’s closed bedroom door. “It’s like Uncle Happy said. He’s just shaken.”

Morgan looked doubtful. Tony didn’t believe himself either.

Pepper laid a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we go watch a movie? Anything you want.”

Morgan’s eyes sparkled. “Frozen?”

“Sure, my love,” Pepper said as she lead Morgan into the next room. She shot a look back at Tony, and jerked her head towards Peter’s room. ‘Talk to him,’ she mouthed.

Tony’s hands sweated. He straightened up, and looked at Happy. “You heard the woman. Go talk to him.”

Happy rolled his eyes. “Don’t put this off. You’ll regret it.” And then he went back inside the elevator.

Tony knew they were both right. He had to put Peter first and make this right somehow, but…

It was Tony that had caused this situation, ultimately. Peter knew that. Had basically said as much on live television. He wasn’t fit to be a father of any sort, and here he was with two amazing kids that he kept screwing up.

He knocked on Peter’s door. The kid didn’t respond, so he slowly twisted the knob and let himself inside.

The room was pitch-black, so it took some time for Tony’s old eyes to adjust. It was also silent in here, the soundproofing blocking out the opening Frozen song and Morgan’s excited squeals. It seemed that she had already forgotten about the afternoon’s events.

“Pete? You got a minute?”

“Go away,” came a muffled voice from the bed. Peter had heaped the blankets over himself and curled into a ball.

Tony’s mouth thinned. “Kid, I think we should talk about this. Don’t you?”

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

Tony approached the bed. He sat down, and put a hand on top of the Peter-blanket lump. The lump shrugged his hand off. “Peter, seriously,” he sighed, “I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

Tony reigned back in the firey response that leapt to his throat. Now was about Peter, he reminded himself. Even if Peter hated his guts, he’d try to make amends with his kid somehow. “What do you need then?”

“I want to move out.”

What? Where did that even come from? Did Peter really hate living with him so much?

“Well, too bad,” Tony huffed, standing up. “You’re seventeen, and like it or not, we’re your guardians.”

“I never asked for that.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned his back to the bed. “What other choice did I have? Let you sleep on the streets?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I’ve yet to see any proof of that.”

“Believe it or not, Mr Stark, I did just fine before I met you.”

“If you call running around in those red pyjamas of yours, getting shot at with no one to watch your back, doing ‘just fine’,” Tony mocked, “then sure, kid.”

Peter’s voice, which had been icily calm for most of the conversation, suddenly turned angry. “I’m trying to do you a favour here! Morgan-”

“I don’t need any favours from you. I get that you don’t want me to be your dad or guardian or whatever, and if I could change that for you, kid, I would. But you’re stuck with me, because somebody has to be responsible for you since you’ve proven incapable of being responsible for yourself.”

Peter went silent.

Tony screwed his eyes shut. Now he’d stepped in it. How did they even get here? He had just wanted to check if Peter was okay.

He stepped towards the door, then paused. “Morgan thinks you’re mad at her. She’s watching Frozen, if you want to join us.”

There, an olive branch. He’d asked Peter to join him in family movie night.

He cast another guilty look behind him, and seeing the unmoving lump, sighed and opened the door.

Peter stared at his hands. They couldn’t stop shaking. His mind just kept replaying him shoving that man.

He’d never lost control like that, not since he got a grip on his powers anyway. He knew he was dangerous from almost the instant he’d woken up after that spiderbite, when he had ripped his bedroom door in his aunt and uncle’s flat off its hinges.

He had spent weeks practising how to pull his punches. He knew better than anyone what he was capable of, and even up against the worst of humanity, he knew he was worse.  Which was why he made the web fluid, made sure that he was only detaining the bad guys, made sure he was never the executioner.

Tonight could’ve been so much worse. He could’ve seriously hurt that man. He could’ve hurt Morgan.

And that was the worst part. Sweet, little Morgan, who saw stars in his eyes. What if he lost his control around her? Or Pepper, or Happy, or Tony?

Tony was right. He was incapable of being responsible for himself. Which was why he had to leave the Starks’. He’d already overstayed his welcome, he knew that, he’d known that for weeks. What kind of family wanted to take in some random kid?

He knew Tony felt obligated to shelter him. Had taken his generosity anyway, because Tony was right, ultimately. What other choice did he have?

But the more Peter mulled it over, the more his conviction grew. He would be moving out come September anyway. Why not bump it up a few months? He would learn how to take care of himself. He didn’t want- he didn’t need Tony looking after him anymore.

Not when it caused him so much trouble. Not when his issues were reflected on Tony. His anger was his own. His anger had been simmering in him since he was a little kid being told his parents weren’t coming back, since Uncle Ben had died, since Aunt May…

And lately?

It had felt like it reached a boiling point. Aunt May and Uncle Ben’s deaths were his fault. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he knew the truth. He was a curse, and he had to protect Morgan from that by any means possible.

It was better for everyone if they forgot about him. Ned, MJ… He had hurt them, too, that last battle with the Green Goblin and Doc Ock. MJ had almost died, and that was on him. He knew what the right move was: sever ties with the Starks, go to MIT, let Ned and MJ make their own college friends, watch them move on.

Spiderman was simply incompatible with relationships.

But he was so tired.

He shook the blankets off his head and stared at his closed bedroom door. He could picture the scene behind it as clearly as day—Mrs Stark on the couch holding Morgan, who would be croaking along with the Frozen soundtrack. Mr Stark would sit next to them, one arm around Pepper and one arm stretched out over the couch back, a space next to him reserved especially for Peter. 

His chest ached at the image, and his eyes burned with hot, angry tears. It was selfish to want this family as much as he did. But, god, he wanted it so badly.

The tight feeling in his chest made him sit up on the edge of the bed, one hand splayed over his heart in an attempt to ease the awful sinking feeling. He wasn’t cut out for family, he reminded himself, but even as he did, Peter was getting to his feet.

With a deep breath, he opened the door.

The lights were off, which was normal for movie night, and he could hear the movie playing in the next room. But he couldn’t hear their voices, which wasn’t normal. Especially when Anna was singing ‘Love is an Open Door’.

He paused, the feeling in his chest sharpening into a sense of dread. The hair on his arms raised, and Peter instinctively jumped up to the ceiling, pressing himself against it as he strained his ears further.

Closing his eyes, he could make out Pepper and Morgan’s rapid heartbeats further into the penthouse. Morgan’s room, he realised.

Focusing again, he could also make out Tony’s voice from the other side of the penthouse, by the elevators, as well as ten heartbeats surrounding him.

“Come back in an hour; it’s movie night,” he heard Tony quip. His voice was steady, but strained.

Peter crawled his way over, moving silently. Tony was standing in the kitchen, bowl of popcorn in his hands, as the ten people dressed in black pointed guns at him.

Peter cursed mentally. He didn’t have his webshooters on him.

“No sudden movements, Stark,” one of them said – a tall blonde woman, who wore a mask on the top half of her face. Then, to two of her companions, she said, “Go get that woman and the kid. We need something to ensure compliance.”

Peter scuttled back towards Morgan’s room. The door was shut, and he could hear their heartbeats huddling in the far corner. Likely under Morgan’s bed, he guessed as he dropped to the ground. He raised his hand down on the door handle, knocking it off. He felt bad as Morgan let out a small scream at the noise, but it was quickly cut off. Pepper must have put her hand over her mouth.

Before Peter could jump back up to ceiling, the two men converged on him with guns drawn.

“Hands up, kid,” the bigger one said.

Peter did as he was told, eyeing them both. He could maybe fight them, but then what? Someone would hear, and then they might hurt Mr Stark.

“I didn’t think the rumours were actually true,” the other man muttered, going in with handcuffs. “Why’d Stark hide you, huh?”

Peter let him cuff his hands. He could get out of them if needed, but if they were going to take someone, it was best if it was him. Peter watched warily as they approached the door. They tried pushing it, then shoulder-barging it, but it didn’t budge.

“Security’s probably already on their way,” Peter said. “You guys should just call it quits and head home, don’t you think?”

The big man drove the butt of his gun into Peter’s stomach.

The smaller man, frustrated, turned away. “Let’s just take this one. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

They shoved him back to the entrance, and the woman frowned.

“Where’s the other two?”

“Locked in a room, boss,” Big Guy said, shoving Peter into the crowd of guns with Tony, who was also now handcuffed. The popcorn was strewn over the floor, glass shattered, and Peter winced as little shards embedded themselves in his bare feet. They were going to suck to pick out once the skin healed over them.

At the woman’s sharp look, Small Guy jumped in. “We tried to open it, but the door handle’s broken and it’s too sturdy to kick down.”

Tony shot Peter a look. He shrugged.

“Whatever,” the woman said after considering for a moment. “Bring ‘em to the roof.”

The twelve of them packed into the elevator, Peter and Tony side by side.

“You should’ve stayed in your room,” Tony whispered. “I had this handled.”

“Sure you did,” Peter retorted, nodding down at Tony’s cuffed hands. Tony gestured to Peter’s own bound hands.

Petty old man. At least Peter could break out of his handcuffs if he wanted to. The gun barrel pressed into Tony’s side reminded him why that would be a bad idea.

They were marched out to the roof, where two helicopters waited for them. The group split in half, and they began shoving Peter to one and Tony to the other.

Panic gripped Peter. Being taken to a second location was bad enough, but if they were split up?

“Peter?” Tony called out to him, violently shrugging off the hands grabbing him.

Peter bucked against his own captors, elbowing someone viciously. “Keep us together!” He cried out. “I’m not going with you unless we’re taken together!”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, little Stark,” said the blonde woman, who shoved him backwards. Peter watched as another woman, this one smaller than the ring leader, shoved Tony to the ground. His head hit the concrete, and he groaned out.

“Get off him!” Peter yelled, watching as the other woman dragged Tony back up and to the second helicopter. Tony wobbled, and there was blood dripping down his head. “Leave him alone!”

He shattered his handcuffs, sent two punches flying, and raced towards Tony. A shot rang out, and Peter buckled.

“Kid!” he heard Tony’s voice scream, and even though his leg was on fire, he pushed himself to his feet and managed to stumble two more steps towards Tony before a second shot sent him back to the ground.

Both legs now screamed at him, and his spider-sense was going haywire. He barely managed to lift his head up to watch as they strapped Tony in, and the first helicopter lifted off. He reached out towards it, even knowing it was futile.

The blonde woman appeared in front of his swimming vision, her smile twisted and nasty. “Don’t worry, little Stark,” she said, “you’ll see him soon enough.”

She then raised the butt of her gun and drove it into Peter’s head, sending the world black.

He woke up in an empty room, bound with literal chains to a chair. His head hurt like all hell, and the fluorescent lights only made things worse. Squinting through the bright, Peter began to make out his surroundings. The floor was bare concrete, and the walls seemed to be tin. There were dust markings on the floor where it looked like shelves had once been.

So he was in a storeroom? Great.

He tested out the chains, but found he was unable to move at all. They were tight against his skin, and Peter could already feel burning pain where the metal had cut into him. His feet and legs were still killing him. At least they had bandaged the two bullet holes for him – one on each leg. The bandages had splotches of red where he’d been shot, but it didn’t look like he’d lost that much more blood. His skin had probably healed over them already.

That was, what? Twelve bullets now? They’d never gotten around to removing the others, as surgery had presented too much of a risk. They hadn’t known how much anaesthetic to use, for one thing, and they were also concerned about the risk of him starting to heal over while they were digging around inside him.

“Hello?” Peter called out.

When it became clear that no one was coming, he screwed his eyes shut and tried to listen out for Tony.

He found him soon enough, jabbering away as the man was.

“Don’t tell me you believe the tabloids! He’s just an intern, you know that, right? Just some lowly intern. A coffee runner, really. You should just let the kid go. Do you know how many forms I’d have to fill out because of this? I don’t even think there is a ‘my intern got kidnapped’ workplace health and safety report. I’ll have to draft that up myself, send it to his WHS officer to get it approved, and you bet there’ll be glaring errors with it. So then I’ll have to do it all again-“

“Do you ever shut up?”

That must be the blonde woman. There was a dull thud, and then Tony groaned in pain. Peter grimaced.

“What intern takes two bullets for his boss?” There was the small guy that had handcuffed Peter.

“An idiotic one,” Tony scoffed. “Which is what he is. An idiotic intern. You’d be doing me a favour by sending the kid home. Saves me from firing him, right? And then I can focus on your little project.”

“He broke through metal handcuffs,” said the woman.

“Adrenaline,” Tony answered quickly. “Makes you do crazy things. Like mothers lifting cars off their babies.”

“Or sons continuing to run with a bullet in their leg?”

“Maybe you just have crap bullets.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe we better test our guns on the little Stark, see which ones work best.”

Tony fell silent. Peter strained his ears. He could just barely make out the sound of metal on metal. Was he making something?

His mind raced through the possibilities. Tony wouldn’t. Would he?

Was he making a weapon? A suit? Something else?

Well, whatever it was, it couldn’t be trusted in the hands of these obvious villains. Peter strained against his bindings again, grunting as the newly formed skin on his legs ripped open with the movement. He slumped back against his chair, panting.

He had to think. If they were using Peter as collateral – which was ridiculous, really, since he wasn’t actually Tony’s son and Tony wouldn’t risk the lives of thousands just to save Peter – then they’d have to keep him alive, right?

His moved his legs again, letting the bullet wounds tear open even further, biting back a scream. Blood began to seep into the bandages again.

“Help!” he called out. “It hurts, it hurts!”

He became aware of two people outside his room, who whispered to each other. So that was four bad guys, total. That was nothing, Peter thought.

“Should we get the boss?”

“Please, someone, I need help!” For added effect, he even curled his toes, igniting several little fires in his feet as the glass ripped through again. He glanced down, and felt woozy at the amount of blood he’d managed to wring out of his lower body.

“You go,” grunted one to the other.

Peter settled down, and knelt his sweating head back against the cool metal of the chair as he waited. His head started swimming again, and he couldn’t keep his concentration enough to listen to what was happening in the next room.

He must have slipped back into unconsciousness, because he jumped awake as the door banged open. There was the blonde woman, who looked positively annoyed now. She came in with some bandages, which she wrapped tightly around Peter’s feet.

He meant to kick out, hopefully knock her unconscious, but he couldn’t get his legs to move. Everything hurt so much, even more so as her deft bandaging pressed the glass deeper into him.

Then she was dragging his chair, the awful scraping sound splitting Peter’s head open.

It felt like eternity, and all he could do was shut his eyes and try to block out the sounds. When they stopped, Peter forced himself to look around. The blonde woman was standing next to a bench of assorted tools and metal scraps, and there was…

“Mr Stark?” He couldn’t get his eyes to focus, which was bad. Maybe he’d under-estimated his blood loss.

“Perhaps you need incentive,” the blonde woman said to Tony. Peter wasn’t sure if he had progressed to hallucination, or if Tony really did look that pale. “I’m surprised little Stark has survived as long as he has. Every minute you spend fucking around,” she seethed, “is another minute he goes without treatment. Every two hours that pass? We put another bullet in him. Hopefully somewhere non-lethal, but, I’ve never been a good shot.”

She shoved Tony back to the bench. His hands were shaking as he picked up the tools.

“It takes longer than two hours to build what you’re asking.”

The blonde woman strode over to Peter and drove her gun into the wound on his left leg, sending his vision back to pure white. He was screaming, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t hear himself. Everything was focused on the awful burning fire spreading throughout his body, all his senses just screaming pain, pain, pain.

Peter clawed back his control bit by bit when the woman relented, forcing himself to focus on nothing but drawing in another breath, and then another, and then another. His voice was raw, and his head hurt, and he was crying. He felt someone touch his hands, and he tensed, bracing himself for the next round of pain, but it never came.

“-ete? Kid, you with me?” Tony’s hand came up to touch his face, and Peter leant into it, his eyes still shut.

He didn’t want to look at Tony. He didn’t want Tony to see him like this, either. He wanted to go home.

“It’s okay, Bambino, everything’s okay.”

There was that lie again. But Peter let it comfort him, forced himself to believe it even though it wasn’t okay, everything hurt.

He couldn’t let Tony build whatever it was they wanted him to build, so he had to be okay. What was a little torture? He’d heal. He always did.

Peter cut off a sob, forced it down, and opened his eyes to look at Tony. The man looked relieved to see that, his eyebrows unfurrowing just a fraction. Peter took in a deep breath. He could do this. He’d be fine.

“’M ‘kay,” he whispered.

Tony shook his head, his good hand coming away from Peter’s face all red and bloodied. Was that Peter’s blood? He squinted at it, but couldn’t make sense of it.

“I’ll get you out of this, okay?” Tony said, gripping his hands again. “No matter what it takes.”

“No,” Peter croaked out. “No, no.” He had a point to make, Peter was sure of it, but he couldn’t grasp the words. “Don’t do it,” he begged, looking up at Tony. The blonde woman was eyeing them.

Tony hugged him, pressing a quick kiss to his hair. It shouldn’t have felt as nice as it did. Tony did that to Morgan. Peter wasn’t Morgan.

Then, he felt something drop down the back of his shirt, where Tony’s arms were draped. He only just managed to catch it with his bound hands.

Tony pulled back, gave him a look, and then went back to his workstation.

Peter forced his throbbing head to focus. The blonde woman was supervising Tony, and no one else was watching Peter. Couldn’t be too much fun, watching a kid bleed out.

His hands fumbled around the object. A screwdriver.

So that had been why Tony hugged him. To give him a chance to free himself, so he could free the both of them. Peter glanced around again, and he carefully used his hands to feel the new cuffs he was in. There was a screw, he thought, on either end of the cuff, but he couldn’t exactly look to confirm.

He began to fiddle with the screwdriver, painstakingly trying – and failing – to get it into position. He kept his eyes forward, scanning to make sure no one noticed what he was doing.

Tony was hunched over the workbench, screwing metal together, connecting wires, and testing fuses. He was going fast- faster than usual, perspiration beading on his wrinkled forehead.

Shouldn’t Tony be buying time? Go slow so Peter could break free and get them out of here?

Every now and then, Tony would glance at something behind Peter, before his eyes would drop to Peter and his frown would deepen, his movements hastening. Peter painstakingly drew his head back, and spied a clock above him.

He didn’t get it at first. Was he waiting for something?

A long stretch of time passed, and Tony’s hands had seriously begun shaking. Peter had just managed to loosen both screws when the blonde woman tsked, and began walking towards Peter. Tony threw down his tools and raced between them, his back to Peter.

“I’m almost done,” he begged, hands out as she kept approaching. “Please, just give me another hour.”

The woman drew her gun.

“Stand aside, Stark. Can’t promise I’ll be as gentle with you as I will with the little one.”

Still, Tony didn’t move, and Peter realised what was happening. Two hours had gone by, and his punishment was due.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, voice still hoarse from his earlier screaming, “I’ll be okay.”

It would hurt, sure, but Tony was a normal human. A bullet like that could kill him. Peter would be fine. He could take it. He would.

“Shut it, kid,” Tony said, and he kept standing in front of him, infuriatingly.

“Listen to your son,” the woman mocked, staring down at Tony as she pulled the safety on her gun. “Last chance, Stark.”

Peter tugged at his handcuffs again, which slipped off now that the screws had come undone. He held it to prevent it from clattering to the floor, and slipped it underneath himself.

With his hands free, he tried tugging on the chains behind him, but any pull only constricted them tighter around himself, digging into his skin and his bullet wound, making his teeth grit to keep him from crying out.

“Mr Stark, move aside, please,” he pleaded. The woman’s hand twitched on the trigger, and Peter’s head exploded again with the sheer sense of danger, danger, danger.

Both hands gripping the chain now, he yanked, and he felt it break before he heard it. Everything seemed to move in slow motion then.

He jumped to his feet, chains still falling off him as he grabbed Tony and hauled them to the ground. He felt the bullet whiz over the top of his head, felt the burning fire licking at his feet and legs, and felt the gripping sense of move, move, move.

With Tony still in his arms, he jumped, legs almost buckling beneath him as his thighs protested, warm blood dribbling down his body, as he caught the ceiling with one hand. Another bullet, where they’d both been just a second ago.

The blonde woman gaped at them, then snapped her mouth shut as she readied her gun again, aiming up. Peter dropped, placing Tony down before he hauled himself towards her. Peter’s spidey sense wouldn’t shut up, but he couldn’t stop moving. The gun went off again between them as Peter tackled her. They wrestled for the gun, and if Peter wasn’t so woozy it’d be no contest, normally.

The woman jabbed a knee into his stomach, which shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, but there was that whiteness again as all his other senses just shut off and all he could think was it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

He sensed danger again, and his head screamed at him to move, but he couldn’t because everything just hurt so much. Another shot rang out, and Peter tensed, expecting to get hit again, but nothing hurt as much as his stomach and his legs.

Tony, he thought, and he forced his eyes open. Blurrily, he could make out two forms fighting each other above him, but even that was too much and his eyes closed on their own.

He fought against everything in his body to stay awake, to pay attention, but the best he could do was listen to the bits he caught in between passing out.

More gunshots, people running, nothing. Then people touching him, saying things to him, then nothing. A jet, monitors beeping, panicked orders, nothing.

Peter couldn’t tell if it was the fourth or the hundredth time he had tried to wake himself up when he could finally hear Tony’s voice.

“I don’t need treatment right now. Focus on my kid!”

And Peter wondered if that meant they were home, and if Morgan was nearby, and if she’d gotten hurt after all, when unconsciousness took him again.

Some undeterminable time later, he drifted back to the realm of the living, feeling someone grip his hand. Sensing no immediate danger, he kept his eyes shut, worried that when they saw him awake again, they’d shoot him another time just for fun. Slowly, he tuned in to each of his senses.

He was lying down, and he was no longer bound, which was a huge improvement. More than that, the bed he was in was soft, his aching muscles sinking into them. There was something in his nose, and his legs and stomach still hurt but the pain was duller than the previous sharp fire that had seemed to consume his whole body. There were wires in his arms – I.Vs, his mind supplied – and a soft beeping sound reflecting his heartbeat.

And the hand clutching his was calloused, but it held him so tenderly.

Peter peeled his eyes open, and groaned at the bright white beaming down on him.

“Pete?” he heard the person behind him say, and then the hand was gone. Peter groaned, grasping for it but unable to find it. The lights dimmed, and he heard quick footsteps approaching his side, and then Tony had grabbed his hand again. “You with me, Peter?”

Tony never called him that. He must be shaken up, Peter thought, as he blinked back his vision.

He looked shaken up. Huh. He was wearing different clothes to the warehouse, and he wasn’t wearing his prosthetic. Peter spied white gauze peaking out from Tony’s shirt, and he reached up a hand to pull the shirt away from the collarbone.

He was frowning, but he couldn’t form the question.

Tony chuckled, and shook him off. “What’s a bullet, right, kid?”

Oh. He got shot? When had that happened? He vaguely remembered being on the ground, waiting for the woman to shoot him again. Had Tony blocked it?

“I think I win the getting shot competition, Mr Stark,” he managed to rasp out. “One to thirteen. You’re behind, old man.”

Tony grimaced.

“What happened, anyway?” Peter asked, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to piece things together. Then, remembering what he heard earlier, he asked, “Is Morgan okay?”

“What?” Tony’s forehead creased, and he laughed again. “The only thing wrong with Morgan is that she’s worried sick about you, Pete. Thank you. For keeping her and Pepper safe.”

Peter nodded. “Of course.”

“But don’t you ever do that shit again.” Tony’s face became serious, and he shifted closer to the bed. “I’m the one that takes the bullets, kid. Got it?”

So he had taken the fourth bullet meant for Peter. Peter shook his head. “You have a kid, Mr Stark. I wasn’t going to let them kill you.”

“You’re my kid, too.”

The statement stunned Peter into silence. Tony looked down at the ground, hand still gripping Peter’s.

“I- I know that you don’t see me like that, but there’s no changing that you are my kid, Pete. I accepted that a long time ago, and I’ve also accepted that when push comes to shove, I’ll die for my kids. You and Morgan both.”

Peter blinked back tears. “I don’t want that,” he said before he knew what he was doing. Tony’s face fell, but Peter pushed himself to continue. “I don’t need anyone else to die for me, Mr Stark. My parents, Uncle Ben, Aunt May… I can’t go on like that. I need- I need someone to live. I don’t want to lose anyone else. I don’t want to lose you.”

Even just saying it felt like a jinx. Peter half expected Tony to drop dead on the spot, just so the universe could spite him. But Tony kept breathing, and so did Peter, and the world didn’t end just because he admitted Tony was important to him.

“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, kid,” Tony said gruffly. And then, having apparently reached his limit for emotional conversations, Tony climbed into the hospital bed with Peter, draping his good arm around Peter’s shoulders. “But you’re banned from getting shot ever again.”

“Not sure how you plan to enforce that one.”

“Copious amounts of bubble wrap.”

Peter wanted to quip back, but the door was opening and in came Pepper. Morgan peaked out from behind her, teary eyed.

“Petey?” She called out, still clutching Pepper.

“It’s less scary than it looks,” he was quick to assure her, offering her a smile. Morgan returned it with more tears as she ran toward him.

Peter scooped her up, ignoring the twinge in his stomach as he shifted, letting Morgan sit by his head.

“I missed you,” she confessed, pressing a blubbering kiss to his cheek. “Please don’t leave again.”

“Seconded,” Pepper said

Peter looked at them both, a funny feeling forming in his throat. It was one thing to want a family. He was no stranger to that. He’d been left wanting most of his life.

But to be equally as wanted?

He looked back to Tony, who smiled. “Sorry, kid. You’re stuck watching Frozen with us three forever.”

Peter sniffled, and then he was crying. He tucked his head into Tony’s chest, who looked alarmed.

“Dad! You made Petey cry!”

“I’m sorry, kid, I didn’t know you hated Frozen that much! We can watch something else! Anything, your pick!”

And Peter knew he’d choose those three bullets again, a hundred times over, if it meant being here with his family.