#and it means the abs can’t sneak up on me because im in control

[quietwingsinthesky]

it’s why i like writing my own smut because it means im allowed to put in details for me and talk about hairy tummies and stretch marks and fat rolls and all the things that make human bodies so fantastic to look at and think about

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Numb | Tom Holland x Male!Reader

Words: 9091

Warnings: Smut and negative thoughts?

A/N: Sit yourself down for this one. This is loooooong! It’s completely different from what I usually write. Still had an absolute blast writing it. 

Check out the request description below!

Requested by: @idwithoutthesuperego​:  Ok, but a fic where tom sells his body for money because he just needed the money and reasons. And male reader's friends buy a "night" with him without telling reader after a bad breakup. But they just click, and MR kinda falls in love n wants to do the "i'm gonna date you and get you out of that life". But tom is just like "i dont believe in people anymore and im destined to die in some alley being used". This is oddly especiffic, but is something i would just love to read about if u can, plz.

Oh, and if you consider being a good soul and wirtting a fic for my ask, PLEASE make a happy ending hahaha My heart wouldnt be able to handle that drama without the happiness

Tears dry up. Eventually. Suppressing the pain. Left with unanswered questions. For weeks they bothered your conscience. Hang around your neck like a millstone. A burden on your soul. Pondering. That’s what you’re left doing. Your day to day life slowing down to a grinding halt. Everything went on auto-pilot. While your mind pondered over every moment of what could have been. What if… And, if I…

 Circling in your mind forever. Sleep didn't come easy. Nor did any desire for anything. Friend and family kept summing up the logical steps of coping. Stages of grief. "It'll pass." Those little sentences stuck with you. “It’ll take time.” Each and everyone kept repeating it. But what value did it have? What lessons could you take from those words? For you are left with an empty house. An empty couch. An empty chair. And an empty place beside you. Alone. Trapped within your own mind.

 Pondering over every thought and every memory.

 That feeling of nothingness. It’s strange at first. You manage to go on with your life. Sleep returns at night. And waking up wasn’t at painful as it was at first. You couldn’t put your finger on it. But it could be described as numbness. Everything went on autopilot. And feelings were shut off. Barricaded behind layers of overthinking and mind-boggling thoughts. No sense of desire anywhere. The impact of a broken relationship was far worse then you imagined.

 Just comfortably numb.

 "This will do you good." Your friend tries to convince you again. Pushing the flyer into your hand. “For a moment, try to think ab-...” The words reach your ear in waves. Disturbed by sounds coming from somewhere close by. Ringing in your ears. Folding open the flyer, you see some sort of menu. You squint again, slightly intoxicated by the last few beers. This wasn’t some ordinary menu, like a Chinese take-out restaurant. You feel your blood boiling. Heart racing in your chest cavity. You peel your eyes from the fat printed letters. “Men of your choosing."

 “Give it a shot." Your friend nudges you against your shoulder. Seeing the fury in your eyes building, as you look up. "I choose this one for you." Pointing to a loosely attached picture. "He looks nice, doesn't he?"

 “Why would you…?" You mumble, shaking your head in disgust. “Get out.” Tossing everything his way. “Just get out…” Pushing yourself up from the couch. Pacing back and forth across the room, before turning into the kitchen. Raking your fingers through your hair. Letting the cold water from the tap, run across your face. Why do people keep meddling in your business? It's exhausting. A sudden burst of rage and anger courses through you, but it ebbs away as quickly as it came. Leaving you feeling defeated and numb again. Falling back into the kitchen chair. Gaze fixated on the moonlight illuminating the scenery in front of you —mind blank.

 Footsteps approach from behind you. You’ve heard the door open and close. You assumed your friend left. But an unknown voice calls to you. "Hey…"

 "You can go." You respond instantly; without looking,  waving him away. "Please." Releasing an unintended long sigh. Sinking deeper into the chair. Your gaze fixated on the endless void in front of you.

 "I can't." The voice says calm and controlled. "I'm booked for the entire night."

 "I don't care." Shrugging your shoulders. "Please just leave me be. Tip yourself on the way out, wallet is in my coat." You just sit there, sulking in your own misery.

 It's quiet for a good moment. You guess he's probably still there. Standing a few feet behind you.

“You’re awfully calm for a situation like this.”

 "Right…" You chuckle to yourself. “Thanks.”

 "Your friend told me." Hearing his footsteps approach instead of fading away, sending you an uneasy feeling down your spine. "It's ok…" You hear him right behind you. “He means well.” Your body jolts up in the chair, as his hands rest upon your shoulders. His hands just rest. Nothing more. Yet you feel every touch of his finger, every point of contact upon your body. A weird sensation. Even more, as his thumbs begin pressing and rolling around the lower part of your neck. Rubbing your skin. Slowly massaging your sore muscles. A sudden involuntary grunt escapes you.  "I know it's difficult."

 "I… I don't know if… I…" You try to shake the thought of it out of your mind. It conflicted deeply within you. Yet, his touch. So simple, yet strangely satisfying. A different kind of emotion began to rise. Something that had been locked away, far and deep.

 "Please…" He says with subtlety and kindness in his voice. And as he moves past you. The man came into view. Your eyes are somehow captivated by first sight. As he sinks down onto his knees. A thin smile cracked his wistful glance. "It's going to be okay."

 He looked so young, yet worn in a way you couldn't put your finger on. A sorrowful face you had never seen. Long, brown curls gracefully tumbled down his head. The contours of his face were absolutely stunningly shaped. The thin lips and sharp jawline. A work of art. A little imperfection on his right brow. Small hairs rebelling against the flow. Yet his face drained with a gaunt stare. The eyes didn't fool you. Set deep into his face. Small and brown, caramel-like of color. They showed little signs of life left in them. Hollow. Like a flame died out long ago. A spark long lost. A view into the past what once used to be. It lost its touch. It’s humanity...

 Yet, somehow you feel magically drawn to those sorrowful and silent features. Most fascinating, almost hypnotizing. The moment of eye contact was unexpected long. His touch sending you back reality.

 With both his hand on your inner thigh, slowly rubbing his way upwards. The touch of his fingers sends shudders through your systems. They felt so warm. You close your eyes for a moment, shielding your crotch. A moment of insecurity. You couldn't do this. This feeling. Your body, its sending signals you haven't felt in ages. "I… I… don't think I'm ready for this, I'm sorry…"  

 “I get that.” He says, while with one hand lifting your chin. You feel his soft fingers on your cheek. The first touch of a man in months. Your heart flutters excitingly.  And before you open your eyes to meet his. His lips tenderly grace yours. For a brief moment, they join each other. Soft as a cushion, and so warm. It happens quickly. But you want it to last forever. As he disconnects, his dark brown eyes stare at you with compassion. "Your body is, though." He smiles thinly, interlacing his fingers with yours. Gently rubbing down onto your growing bulge.

 “W-Wh …” You stutter and try to protest. But your hands pull back slowly, bit by bit.

 He seats himself back on the floor, spreading your legs apart. Positioning himself closer. With care, he begins to remove your belt. Halting at the first button of your pants. "Try to relax."

 You hesitantly look on. As the zipper opens up. Latching both fingers on the band of your underwear, he slowly pulls in down. Removing your pants, revealing your member, semi-hard. Waiting for the action.

 Leaning forward, he tilts his head and slowly begins working. One simple touch and you were gone. This soft, warm tongue, stroking gently along your length. In a matter of seconds, it's standing full mast. Wrapping his fingers along the base, he continues at a slow pace. Meanwhile, your heart was beating like crazy against your ribcage. You're breathing fastened and irregular.

 “W-What’s your name?” You interrupt. His eyes connect with yours as he looks up through his laces. But doesn’t respond. “P-Please…” You whimper softly.

 He stops, holding your length in one hand. “I’m Tom.” Wetting his lips as he watches you struggle. “You doing alright?”

 You nod quickly, struggling to get your words out. Swallowing the lump in your throat. “T-T-T…om”

 But before you manage to utter another word. He brings his tongue in contact with your tip. Keeping eye contact with you. With a few simple licks, slicking it wet with his saliva. The sensation of his tongue working his way round and round your tip was tantalizing. But the sudden, slide of your tip past his lips and down into his mouth was heavenly. Your body tenses up, hip bucking into his grasp. Moaning his name in response. With your hands clamped to the side of the chair, your fingers digging deep into the wood. Turning your knuckles white, the muscles in your arm cramping up as you can't hold up. You shudder from pure bliss. Only a few strokes up and down with his hands combined with his mouth made you groan deeper and deeper.

 Your eyes widen as he suddenly stops. He rises to his feet, keeps his gaze at you, and with both hands lifting the hoodie over his head. And as the hoodie came off, your eyes hunger for every bit of exposed skin you could possibly find. Giving you a glimpse of a well-trained body. A sneak-peek of a six-pack. Broad shoulders, pecks shining through the shirt. Leaving a much revealing, loosely hanging shirt on his figure. But you feel somewhat caught the moment you get eye contact with him again. His expression was painful to watch. You could almost sense his disappointment. His misery. It's only then you realize the shame. The realization hits you that you view him as an object. As lust.

 "It's ok." Seeing his eyes soften before you, followed by a small smile.

 But it's only a split second before he's back at you again. You can't help but peak past his face down into his shirt. Past his collarbone, onto his muscular torso. God…  

 You snap back to reality, feeling his hand reach for yours. Pulling it from your side. "Hold my hair."

 "W-What…?"

 "Fuck my throat." Sliding his mouth over your member again. Slowly picking up pace. "Go on." He gurgles. Keeping eye contact the whole time.

 “Why are you doing this, Tom?” You ask with a slight tone of disappointment. "You seem so out of place." Lifting his face from your member. "Terribly out of place."

 "Please don't (Y/N)." The mention of your name makes you blush.

 "No, Tom. This isn’t right." You point at his shirt. “Let me look at you.”

 "Wha…-" He sighs, hanging his head down in shame. "No, please don't."

 "Tom, I mean no wrong." You couldn’t help yourself. You could foreshadow what was beneath that shirt. Being in that sort of business took its toll. You caught a glimpse of it when he got rid of his hoodie.

 His gaze was stuck to the floor for a moment. Contemplating on his actions. Before taking to his feet. Slow and defeated. Averting your gaze before turning around. With crossed arms, he takes the corners of his shirt. And pulls it over his head. Waiting for your reaction. You swallow the lump in your throat once again. Seeing the small spots of discolored skin on his back. The bruises. Some larger than the other. Some bright red, the others darkened. The words stock in your throat, feeling the tears well in your eyes. The thought of him suffering by the hands of others made you sick. The poor thing.

 You rise to your feet, closing the distance between you and him. Gracing your fingers on the bruises. “Do they… hurt you?” Tracing your fingers down his side. Partly feeling the muscles under your fingers. But the fact that he didn’t answer your question made you more than worried.

 “Promise me one thing, (Y/N)…” He stops your hand from trailing along the side of his figure. Resting his hand on yours. He’s glowing. Warm to the touch. You can’t help but close the distance. Placing your other hand on his hip.

 With a thin smile, he turns around. Your eyes take in every inch, from his pecs to his abs. A breathtaking body stood in front of you. Strong and masculine. But not too big. "God…" You awe. "You're g-gorgeous-..." Your throat falls dry at the sight. You feel flutters deep down. “I… I’m sorry.”

 “It’s okay.”

 Small bruises dotted down his side. Dark from color, pain from long ago. "Tom…" You mutter worryingly. All the time you awed at his body, he averted his eyes. Looking aside. You now understand why. As your eyes sink lower and lower. You spot the bulge in his pants. Impossible to hide. "Are you…" Not finishing your question because of the obvious. The red rushing to his cheeks.

 He still nods in acknowledgment. "I…I… never had this happen before.”

 “Do you…” A finger on your lips silences your words. Stepping very close to you, spotting his watery eyes up close.

"Yes! Yes, I do!" He confessed, with tears welling in the corner of his eyes. Shaking as he struggles to get his words out. "But promise me…that when…” His nostrils flaring. “-This will never work (Y/N)…" Smashing his lips into yours. You didn’t want to listen to his words. None of it. His arms reach around you, pulling you in. Wrapping your own around him, feeling every part of his skin. Pressed tight against him. Ripping the remaining clothes off your body. You just wanted to feel that perfect body. And so did he, roving his hands all over yours.

 Every kiss has a raw intensity. There’s just too much skin and too few hands and tongues to worship it all. Both your bodies collide against each other completely naked. His firm and rigid cock pressing against your skin. It glides through your hand as wet as it can be. Tom jerking you off at the same time. Moans and grunts fill the room. Tom’s member too slippery to even get a hold of. The sight of it makes you weak in the knees. The chair behind you topples over from your vicious play. As you stumble out of the kitchen. Against the doorpost, over the couch. Towards the bedroom.

 Together you fall onto the mattress. Rolling back and forth. An intense play of hands and lips. Dry humping against each other. You both can't get enough of each other. His lips kissing every inch of skin. Forcing his weight onto you, making you lay flat on your back. He arches back, and sensually starts grinding his pelvis onto yours. Rubbing your balls and cock together into a soaking wet mess. He must have done this hundreds of times. It looked so smooth and sensual. Moaning softly as he held both of your members together. With gentle hands, but a firm grasp nonetheless. Thrusting both cocks through his hand. His fingers teasing the ridges along the lengths. Spreading the pre-cum with the pad of his thumb. Looking at his face, he's so concentrated that you once again get caught staring at him.

 Both moaning, the air is thick of pheromones, the smell seeping into your mind. Both wanting it badly. As he locks eyes again, he smoothly reaches round with one hand. He seemed really flexible, propped on his knees. Arching backward as he lifts his ass up, guiding your tip to his entrance. A slight resistance gave way, allowing you to slide far and deep into him. The moment you sheath yourself into him deeper and deeper, you watch on as he shudders. Contorting his face. Both hands cling to your chest. With both his hands resting on your torso, the fingers dig deep and hard into your skin. Feeling his shaking and shuddering throughout your body. He closes his eyes for a moment, moaning your name in pleasure. And sinks further forwards to your chest. Panting heavily. After regaining himself, he adjusts his hands on your shoulder. And locks lips with yours. "Y-You… f-feel amazing." Moaning into the kiss. The praise turning you on immensely. Growing impossibly large inside of him.

 And so he slowly begins grinding his hips back and forth with your shaft deep inside him. Feeling yourself widen him further and further. Tom’s moans become long and raw. Sitting up straight again, he takes one hand and forces your cock deeper into him. Reaching further and deeper. While trying to clench his cheeks around you. Hitting different and deeper spots. The sudden increase in pressure and warmth were becoming too much. Not only for you. You see Tom's mouth fall open, gasping for air, his eyes shut tight from ecstasy. His other hand caresses the skin of his neck.

 Your grunts become shorter and shallow. You’re a lost cause. Your mind is blank, completely lost at the sexual pleasure coursing through your body. Racing towards your climax. Both hands clinging to his hips, but your strength wasn’t helping much.

 Tom could feel it coming. Your balls churn. A pent up force, craving to be released. And all it takes is a look into each other’s eyes for you to fill him up. And before you tip the point of no return. He picks up the pace. Making sure to milk every drop by clenching his cheeks harder on you. A loud gasp follows. Shuddering your body to the very core. Your hands dig deep into the side of his hips. The splashing inside is intense as you cum, spilling all over. And Tom just keeps riding. Until you just turn limb. Gasping out his name.

 "Felt good?" He asks, breathing heavily, watching his chest heave up and down. A smile on his face. You again realize what a beautiful person he was. His body atop of yours, glistening with sweat. And a damn cute smile.

 “Out of this world.” You pant, laying your head to rest on the cushion. “You’re incredible.”

 "Good." Cupping your cheeks with both hands and kissing you. The smile on his face was larger than you'd ever seen. "I'm glad you enjoyed it." You notice a sudden sparkle flaring in his eyes. Something igniting deep within.

 "How about you…?" Eyeing his erection. "You didn't blow your load." Wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him towards you for a slow and passionate kiss.

 "Don't you worry, I did enjoy it very much." He smiled. "More then I should." Pushing strands of hair from your forehead. "I was close…" He confesses softly.

 "Then why didn't you keep going?"

 "Because that would hurt you…" He blushed.

 "How?"

 "You can't just keep going if you blow your load. At first, it's really sensitive, but then it becomes increasingly itchy, to a point it feels like it burns. Quite painful."

 You're both lost in each other’s gaze. As he falls beside you, curling up to cuddle. Tom resting on your chest. Your fingers playing with the brown silky smooth curls of his. "What can I do to make you feel good?" You whisper to him.

 "You already did." Pressing a soft kiss on your lips. You can't help but notice the way he smiled. It's wholesome. To the point of a complete cuteness.

 "Tom, I want you to feel good too." Slowly tracing your fingers up and down his spine. "Because that smile suits you."

 "But, I don't want to hurt you (Y/N)." He looks up with a growing expression of worry on his face.

 "It won't, Tom." Cupping his cheek. "I want to feel you."

Through all the glistening sweat and wetness on your bodies. You feel his length grow against your thigh. Yourself following along. "Give it to me, baby…" You whisper close to his ear.

 Tom helps himself on his knees. His member standing fully erect, ready for you. A jolt of excitement shoots through you at the sight. It's been forever since you've been pleasured since your break up. Something you actually look forward to now. So you roll onto your knees. "Wait…" You look back at Tom. "Turn over."

 On your back again, eager and waiting, Tom takes you by the hips. Reeling you in. Positioning himself behind you. And turns you on your side.  “This is most comfortable for you.” Kneading your ass cheeks with gentle hands. Captivated by your hole. “Alright?”

 You can’t help but chuckle at his carefulness. How soft and tenderly he was approaching you. Putting a cushion under your hips. Rearranging the sheets. Therefore receiving a semi frowned questioning look from Tom.

 “Sweety, I know what you’re going to do.” You give him a reassuring smile. “I’m ready.”

 “Trust me, if you do it wrong, it’ll hurt like hell.” Giving you a little kiss. “I wouldn’t want that to happen.” You stare at each other for half a second. You draw a deep breath, dizzy with anticipation.

 He moves one leg aside, revealing your entrance. A little gasp of excitement leaves, as you feel his tip slowly slide at your hole. “Please tell me if it hurts.” He asks. You nod eagerly. His hands grip onto your hips, the pressure on your entrance increasing. You lick your lips and suck in another deep breath.  You stifle a groan as you feel your sphincter grip the head of his cock. You’re legs feel numb. You close your eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling, releasing a silent moan.

 He holds the moment your face contorts even the slightest, waiting for you to adjust. Slowly accepting his length. Every inch he enters you, you hear his grunts become heavier. Your warmth and light wetness guiding him deeper. “Y-You’re tight.” He moans, trying to regain this breath. “Fuck…” Wiping the sweat from his face.

 Your dick is throbbing, there was no other way to describe it. Pressed against the sheets. No stimulation but only the motion of his thrusts. Stimulated by his presence. His looks. His thrusts. You're breathless, staring at his physique. He is masculine, but not too much. So complete. The view of his muscles tensing and relaxing. Utterly mesmerizing to watch. Even as he begins to move back and forth. Sweat breaks out all over your body at the first couple of thrusts. Very slow and lovingly.

 Stretching your further as he goes in. His breathing slow and ragged. He pushed deep. Reaching far inside you. Warming places you didn’t know you had. The feeling of his dick fully inside you was driving you to the point of an unexpected climax already. The rigidness of his cock, rubbing your insides. Making you shudder to your very core while praising his name. Your cock already leaking on the sheets.

 The pressure inside you rising faster than ever before. It’s impossible to think straight, his pace was slow and passionate. Yet, you only feel his cock hitting your insides. You grip your sheets, whimpering uncontrollably. You only manage to utter his name, squirming under his pressure. The cum just starts pouring out of you, uncontrollable amounts soaking the already wet area. Tom follows up with another thrust, making you squirt even further. You moan long and hard, feeling your entire body shudder from the release. “Holy s-shit… Tom.” You sputter.

 As you open your eyes, you watch Tom hunched forward. Panting heavily. Eyes clenched shut. "Tom…?" You ask. He holds his hand up to you. Signaling you to wait. After he regains himself again, he positions himself further above you. You hear his hot ragged breath, tightly hugging his hips against your ass cheeks. Cock buried deep inside you. “F-Fuck, (Y/N)…” He grunts. “That was hot…”

 He takes a moment to gather himself again. You do the same. Catching your breath and calming your senses. You wait for Tom to move again.  Before he does, he starts to pepper your body with wet, hot kisses. Moaning your name softly as he begins to roll his hips.

 Goosebumps shoot across your skin at the mention of your name. A sudden yelp escapes your lips, grabbing his attention immediately. To your surprise, you feel a moist sensation touching your cock. You gaze at your member, while it hardens without touch. Only by a few thrusts from his shaft.

 “Shit…” He grunts as he wraps his fingers around your length. An awkward position, but he manages. Stroking your cock, coated by your own cum, slow and steady. Completely captivated by it. You sense it's turning him on immensely, as you feel him thicken inside you.

 You release a silent moan as your mouth falls open. Feeling his girth stretch you even further. The ridges rubbing you in unexpected ways. After a few strokes, he loses his grip, licking the wetness from his fingers, one by one. You watch as he sucks each of his fingers dry in his mouth. “Fuckin’ hell...” He groans. “That’s really good." Leaning in, he lands his lips on yours. "I'm getting close, baby." He moans into the kiss.

 “Go for it.” You whisper into his ear. Holding him close. “Blow your load for me.” As he picks up pace. Desperate for release. His cock feeling incredibly hard inside you. Swelling even further at the mention of your dirty talk. “Blow it all inside me.”

 He grunts deep and hard into your ear. Rolling his hips faster and faster into you. “C’mon, baby.” You encourage him. Feeling his cock grow inside you. His breathing quickens, as does his momentum. Rutting into you faster than before. Not relentlessly, but with a comfortable pace.

 Already widened and stretched from before, you feel his cock hitting you deep again. Each time he hits your thrust back, hitting that same spot, you feel the sensation ache in your cock. Twitching from pleasure. “R-Right there, Tom.” You gasp again.

 He shoots a look at you, realization hitting him that you’re getting close again. “Keep going.” You moan out loud. Not a moment later, you feel him pulse inside you. With a cry, he thrust once more, deep and hard into you. You lift your ass to meet his thrust, his balls slap against your skin. The splashing inside you as he cums is so intense that you feel it spilling down your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. Watching him pump load after load into you. Your cock twitches, barely holding on. As your insides were coated.

 He just pulls out, like a plug of a bathtub. You gasp of relief, feeling the wetness seep outwards.  Drops of wetness fly from his still erect member as it bounces upward. Giving a quick tug on your legs, so you end on your back again. Spreading your legs.

 You’re out of breath for a moment. Not sure what he was going to do. Watching your own dick spring back into view again. All wet and swollen. With force, he pulls you to the side of the bed and kneels down. His fingers wrap around your member. As he suddenly starts suckling on your balls. It's strange ticklish feeling at first, but combined with his firm grasp on your length, and strokes, it became more than that. Your balls begin to churn. Gripping the sheets around you, your head falls back onto the mattress, overwhelmed by this quick handling.  

 “T-Tom!” You cry out. “God!” You plant both your feet on the mattress. You shut your eyes tight, pressing your head back into the mattress, thrusting your hips into his grasp. But he doesn’t slow down.

 “Tom!” You burst out, not only in words. Your eyes widen, gasping out loud as he rubs down hard on your shaft. Cum jets from your swollen cock. Stroking you hard, milking every last possible drop.

 It's only hazy from thereon…

 You’re not sure if you passed out, but it felt like you sprayed the ceiling with your load. The next moment you open your eyes, you find Tom cuddled up against you. Just some sheets covering a few parts. “Did I pass out or…?”

 “You didn’t.” He chuckles, looking up at you with a smile on his face. “You dozed off very shortly after. I don’t blame you.” He sniffles while tracing a finger up and down your chest. You wrap your arm around him. Just living in the moment. "I'm so happy, your friend picked me." He whispered to you. That comment stuck with you.

 "Thank you, Tom." Pressing your lips on his forehead, tasting a taint of salt. Picking a few strands of hair from his forehead. Cuddling together in the safe comfort of each other. The sharing of interests you had in common. Followed by simple chatter about the things in life. Making each other laugh. Having a good time. For once, in a very long time, you felt whole again. His smile. His presence, something felt right. Something clicked.

 And it's that sort of thing you just can’t get enough of. Your eyes are glued to him. The heat rising in your system. That flutter in your stomach. It hurts. In a good way. He is everything you ever wanted in a man.

 You love him.

 All cuddled up against each other, it falls to you how sticky everything actually really his. His skin glistening with sweat and wetness.

 “How about we freshen up?” Rustling your fingers through his curls. “Shower is big enough for both of us.”

 “Good idea.” His lips meeting yours in agreement. "I'll gladly join you."

 Being close to together, naked, warm water, and soap. Things get heated again. You don't know how long you been in the shower. And you don't mind. Because for the time, you felt the rush of living again. Being alive. Receiving praise. Kind words whispered into your ear.

No denying that his smile was infectious. A smile that wouldn't disappear, you noticed. Tom was a whole different person to the one that stepped in earlier tonight. Deep down, you could feel that this version of him was the real him. Loving, caring, passionate.

 And no matter how dangerous shower sex was told to be. You did it. And more. Memories burned into your mind forever.

 You take a moment longer to rinse off the sweat and wetness under the steaming hot water. Recollecting those wonderful moments again. Tom already out. You can't seem to shake your smile. This was right. This is how life should be.

 Turning into the bedroom with your towel wrapped around your waist, your smile drops immediately. "Where you going?" He hastily pushes his phone back into his pocket. Tom was already dressed, ready to put on his jacket.

 "I have to go." He mumbled, avoiding your gaze. His smile nowhere to be seen.

 "Please, just stay."  This moment was bound to happen. But you weren’t going to give in. You’ve seen enough people leave through that door. "Stay with me."

 "I… I… can't… I need to go." Checking the time on his phone.

 "You don't have to do this, you know. I can-" But midsentence, you're cut off.

 "Don’t… (Y/N).” His voice skips a beat. You’re pretty sure you could see tears welling in his eyes. You have to fight to keep them back as well. “P-Please…” He stutters, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. “Don’t make this harder than it already is."

 "Tom, it's doesn't have to be this way."

 "I warned you. It can't be helped." He sobbed. An hour ago, the man standing in front of you was majestic, beautiful, and full of life. What remained now was nothing of that. Hunched shoulders and hands stuffed into his pockets. Eyes wet from tears.

 "I'll take a chance."

 "Please, stay out of it. Just leave me be. Forget about me."

 "Oh no, I can't. Not in a million years. I'll get you out whatever shithole you got yourself into." You’re just glad he didn’t walk right out. Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to follow him. Something was holding him back.

 "It's not worth it. It can't be fixed."

 "Everything takes time to heal."

 "Not me, not me." He snickers. “I… I need to go.”

 You rush to your drawers, pulling fresh clothes out as fast as you can. "Wait, I'll bring you wherever you're going."

 "You'll get into trouble if they see you."

 "I don't care." You quip while jumping into a pair of pants.

 "But I do!" He cries. “I do!”

 "The feeling is mutual." You growled. With your shoes and jacket on, you interlace fingers with his. Dragging him outside. And as you open the door, the pizza delivery shows up. “P-… Pizza delivery?” The man hesitates, looking at the both of you weirded out. “Here.” You shove a bill of cash into his hands. "Now, go!" He instantly rushes off onto the street. With screeching tires, the little scooter darts back up the road. In a big arch, you toss the pizza inside, cheese, and all flying everywhere before you close the door behind you.

 The car ride was uneasy, to say the least. No music. Only darkness and the rain hitting the windshield. Sometimes a finger, pointing you in the right direction. You appeared mad. To say you weren't was a misconception. But not at him. And what kind of music was even appropriate at that moment? Your mind was conflicted. You could just drive the opposite direction. Away from it all. He would be save.

 Would he?

 You couldn’t judge if you didn’t know where he was living. What if they came after him? That would endanger you as well. No, this required a different approach. This needed planning. God, you were in a state to do anything.

 Breath in, breath out. Calm yourself down.

  Hope.

Was it misplaced hope

?

 Hope for a happy ending.

 But hope is the worst of all evils, for it prolongs the torment of men. Words from an old book. Spoken by wise old men as they say. But in the end, the truth runs from the first to the very last word. How naive could you be? Deep down, you knew this was impossible. His words spoken earlier that evening kept circling in the back of your mind. Yet, you cling to that glimmer of hope. Those words in the shower. Those moments together. This couldn't be it?

 You hoped not.

  “Stop here.” He says. “It’s down that alley.” Pointing to a small flickering light in the distance. You could only get a glimpse as the windscreen wipers came by to clear the pouring rain from your window. You spot the outline of a figure standing there. "Turn around the moment I enter that alley. Don't come near.”  

 “I need your number.” Pulling out your phone. But he had already opened the door. “Tom!” You hissed, leaning over to passenger’s seat. Barely in time to get a hold of his arm. “How can I find you?” The wind and rain washing into the car. You have to blink once or twice to keep the rain out of your eyes. “Tom?!”

 “T-Thank you for tonight, (Y/N).”

 "No! Tom!" Tears welling in the corner of your eyes. Awkwardly constrained by your seatbelt, struggling to get a firm grasp on his hand. "Don't do this!" Your fingers begin to lose their grip on his hand, the rain hitting you relentlessly. This sting of pain. You felt this moment before. Slowly slipping away from your fingers. "Not like this!"

 "I'm so sorry…" And with a tug, he pulls his arm free, slamming the door into your face.

 You scream from the top of your lungs. Tears rolling down your cheek, you fumble with the seatbelt. But it won't open. Tears cloud your vision, anger raging from deep within. Forcing you to watch him run through the rain towards that accursed alley. You let your fury loose on anything in range. Until you're deprived of energy. Resting your forehead against the steering wheel. Watching the tears fall from your cheeks. You lost.

 A knock on your window makes you jump. “G-Hello?” A thick accent calls out to you. Your eyes spot the contours of a man. His face closing in on the window. His features unpleasant to the eye, looking like a common fugitive. Not with the best intention. "You zhould not be ghere.”

 So many things raced through your mind. You could just mash the door against his burly, ugly set face. Giving you an advantage to whatever came next. But… What would you achieve with that?

You nod quickly and steer your car the way you came. Driving around mindlessly. Gaze fixated on the horizon.

 It’s been minutes, hours, and days. They’re as grueling as you could possibly imagine. Tormented by your own thoughts. How could you save Tom? You couldn't admit to yourself that you actually knew nothing. There's only a location. That's all.

 Taking a few days off only makes it worse. Sleep doesn’t come at all. Falling back on drinking makes no difference. It only forces out the anger. Until the tipping point of intoxicating takes over your senses.

 Until your eyes spot the flyer, you’re hands tremble as you gaze on the picture of Tom. In all fairness, there wasn’t even a name mentioned. Only a number, like a damn menu. You scramble for your phone, shaking with nervousness. It takes a moment for the number to connect, until you hear a lady’s voice call out the name of the business.

 “Ehm… Hello, I… want Tom, p-please." You stutter, sweat breaking out across your body. While your fingers play with the edges of the picture. Gaze stuck on the picture of Tom. It remains silent on the other end of the line.

 “He doesn’t work here.” That single comment makes your blood boil. The thought that some filthy businessman groping him was sickening.

 “I meant number 26.”

 “I don’t know either. Anyone else?”

 “JUST GIVE ME FUCKING TOM!” You scream from the top of your lungs. “How hard can it be!”

 "I'm afraid I can't help you, sir." And the line disconnects. You're fumingly mad. Realizing your failure.  Gritting your teeth, you barely able to control yourself. Your thoughts sink deeper, and deeper in desperation. You could pull each and every single hair out of your skull out of frustration. Kicking chairs over and destroying stuff didn't satisfy in any way. Only the pain halted you momentarily. This couldn't be the end. You wouldn't let it end this way. You can't.

 You can’t let him go.

  - - - - -

From around the corner, you watch the alleyway. It’s been days. You thought this through countless times. Overthinking is what they call it. Days on end. If Tom was there, you needed to take a shot. You have to do something. What else is there to live for anyway? That is one way to boost your morale you chuckle to yourself. You take one last sip from the bottle before putting in back in your car. Releasing a hiss as the strong liquor burns its way down your throat. In a weird way, it makes your head clearer. Calms the nerves. Brings peace to your mind. Boosts your confidence. If only for this moment. You double-check the surroundings. Everything's in place.

 With confidence in your step, you lock your car around the corner and make your way down the street. You straighten your collars before sheathing them in the pockets of your jacket.  It takes quite a few steps to get there. The man on the corner of the alleyway can’t help but notice you. Trying casually to walk towards you. And as you approach the man, you notice he’s definitely one size larger than you. It surely wasn't the man that warned you in your car. This one had a more pleasant and kinder look to him. "G-Hey you…" He nods at you. "You ghot businez here?” Speaking with the same Eastern European accent as the other.

 You halt in front of him. Taking a moment to answer him, trying to keep your nerves in check. While looking calm at the same time. “I’m here for this.” Revealing the flyer from your pocket. “Is the manager in?”

 “Da, but why zhould I let you through?”

 You sigh with discontent. Revealing a stack of money from your pocket. "Here." Handing him twenty or so bills. "Don't bother me anymore." And take the gamble by walking past him. You hear a whistle behind you. Just as you are about to turn into the dim-lit alleyway, another man halts you. An impressively large man. You weren’t small either. But he towered over you, by far.

 “Got any on ya?” Surprisingly, this man wasn’t Eastern European looking or sounding at all. Holding your hands up beside you, you shake no. But the man still searches you. Keeping an eye on you at all costs. Mumbling to himself a few things. "Follow me."

 Through the dark passage, you’re led towards a metal door. Only a dim light above it shows the entrance. The rest is barely visible. The man engages the locking mechanism and opens the door. Through a series of corridors and stairs, you get the impression of this operation. A series of rooms, followed by cells. Giving you an inside look of how dilapidated and horrifying the building actually is. Your worst nightmare just becomes a reality. It's beyond belief how Tom managed to survive in these conditions.

 You try to keep your gaze fixated on the man in front of you as you follow him. But you desperately hope to see Tom here somewhere. What if you don't get out of here… alive? You draw a deep breath and focus on what’s next. A sudden halt at a room, makes you jump a little. “In here.” Pointing inward to an older lady behind a desk. "Make your request." He grunts, crossing his arms as several other people in the room watching you enter.

 “How can I help you, sir?” The woman kindly asks you. You recognize her voice from the phone earlier this week.

 “Alright.” You say, unimpressed. “Cut the middleman.” Turning around to the large man. “Bring me to the manager.” His gaze far from friendly. From the corner of your eyes, you see the nearby, you guess guards, take a step closer. Some whispering to each other. As the large man takes a few steps towards you. Ending up so close to you, he’s literally looking down on you. The smell of smoke and sweat hinted at your nostrils. His warm, foul breath fanning onto your hair.

 “Why should we… little one?” He growled demeaningly. Not a smile in sight. “You walk into here with loads of cash, and demand to see the manager. What is so important you have that you need to see the manager?” Crackling his knuckles close to your face. His hands were large, fingers short but fatty. Stained by all kinds of things you rather wouldn’t know about. “For all I know, you were never here, to begin with…”

 “Excellent threat." You sniffle, revealing a stack from your pocket. As you do in the process, you hear guns being cocked. "Here." Stuffing the stack into his pocket. “Problem is, my burly friend…” You gaze up to him, forcing a grin on your face.  “I didn’t wander in here unprepared. You see, If I don’t return within… let’s say… the next two hours-…” Letting the moment sink in. Eyeing the people in the room. Everyone eager listening in on your little conversation. “-shits going down.”  

 “What did you call me?” His hand resting upon your shoulder, leaning down.

 “Do you call the shots for your boss?” You tilt your head slightly. Looking at him with a playful smile. “I don’t think he’ll appreciate the news I have regarding his ratline from Europe.”

 The man looks past you, nodding to the lady behind the desk. Returning his gaze to you.

 "Not willing to take the risk, hmmm?" You joke. Behind your back, you hear several whispers. The eyes of the man shot back and forth between the lady and you. Before pushing you down the hallway again. Again leading you through some corridors, down the staircase. Ending up in a luxurious room.

 Behind a desk sat a figure, so bulbous and fat, you’d never seen anything alike. Gold rings on his meaty fingers. The room decorated in some sort of Russian style. The left wall accommodating a series of monitors. Probably surveillance. But as you keep your eyes longer on the screens, you see the prostitutes. Man and women. You try to keep a straight face. “I heard interesting things about you, young man…” The blob of a man behind the desk mutters.

 “I always thought Russians started with a drink, before doing business.” Keeping a straight face.

 The flesh of its body bounces and flays around as it laughs loudly. Signaling the large man to pour the glasses. He couldn’t even do it himself anymore, his fat little arms limiting his movement. “Nasdrovia!” You both cheer and cling the glasses, chucking the content.

 “Let’s talk business.” The man says with a thick voice.

 "I have intel, concerning the safety of your cargo." You glance over to the guards. "Can we get the room to us.” Looking at the Russian for a confirmation.

 "Give him a minute." He waves at you with his fat fingers. "Continue." The large man that led you here hesitates. Keeping his eyes on you. "Go!" The Russian shouts again, waiting for the door to close.

 You take a deep breath. And focus on the conversation. The details are important. Focus.

“You need to relocate within the next… 24 hours.” Checking your watch. “They’re on to you.”

 “How do you know?” He burst out laughing. “Do you have any evidence? Because my business is at an all-time high. My man and woman are booked like never before. I even have a new shipment comin-”

 "Container #556121 on the SSE Georgia has been snitched." You say with a reassuring tone. "Go ahead. Tell me if I'm wrong." He has a distrusting look on his face, hesitant to believe you. But still goes ahead to unlock his drawer, revealing a sort of book and a laptop.

 Bluff. Neither the name of the ship or the number was anything close to what you were supposed to say. Through all the nerves, you just made something up. You just simply couldn't remember what the police told you. Your heart pounded in your chest. It's now or never. Everything depended on the next few minutes. On that little wire, you were carrying. The strength of your arms. Your will. And above all, the speed of the police. Your fingers tremble as you grab your watch. It's bound to happen at any moment.

 What happened next went so fast. It's all a blur. One distant gunshot set off a chain reaction. You jump over the desk as the door behind you swings open, blood splatters all across. The razor-thin wire detaches from your watch, and you swing it around the neck of the bulbous man. His fat little arms couldn’t reach around. Shielding behind his humongous chair and body, you restrain him. You watch the bullet impacts on the wall near you as the guard curses loudly. The fat man’s arms flap around.  “Tell me about Tom, you fat fuck!” You shout. “I need to know!” Tightening the wire. With your “Where is he!?” Bashing his head from behind. “WHERE IS HE?!”

 The man fights and struggles heavily, barely able to breathe—coughing and desperate for air. The giant oak chair the man sat in, shook and trembled on the floor by the man's panicking movements. Screeching back and forth. His spasming legs hit the desk to the floor. Sending loads of stuff flying. The man points his finger to the guard. “K-K-Kill T…Tom!” He gurgles to the guard. The words reach your ears moments later, processing what the man just said. You panic as the guards suddenly darts off, grabbing his phone.

 “Noooooo!” Storming off towards the door, fueled by rage. Blinded by anger. Falling over several items on the floor. You regain your footing and continue to run towards the door. Turning the corner without a second thought.

 A bright flash. A high pitched noise. A ringing in your ear. A wince of pain, tearing into you, forcing every thought out of your mind, paralyzing your body. Only by a deep groan. Your eyes are blurry, your vision doubles as you stagger on your feet. Trying to blink it away didn’t help. You feel the pain worsen. Deepen. Sharp pain lances at your abdomen. Another flash close by. Jerking your body around.  Excruciating pain. It all happens with such force. It sends you stumbling backward. Your hands reach for the doorpost, trying to remain afoot. Holding on for life. But strength ebbs away. Your limbs feel numb. Fingers shaking, losing its grip. Slumping down to the floor, onto your knees. Everything hurt. Sharp, deep, unstoppable pain. Each exhale of breath stings your insides. Chocking the breath from your lungs. Your vision blurs, slowly turning red—darkness pressing in.

 But it wasn’t your vision turning red. It’s the pool of crimson red blood forming under your hands. Warming your pale, cold hands, oozing from your wounds. Panic hits. You’re short of breath, experiencing extreme difficulty with breathing. The cold gripping you. Your words strangled by the welling of warm blood, filling your throat. “T-Tom…” You manage to bring out in faltering gasps. Draining the last bit of energy left in you. “T...o...m…” Before your arms give in. Your head slamming against the crimson tainted concrete.

 Then silence.

 Silence.

 …

 …

 ...

 Is death near?

 …

 …

 ...

 That ringing noise in your ear. Coming closer.  Your head felt heavy and painful. As you slowly regain consciousness. You blink a couple of times to readjust to the intense light blinding your eyes. After a moment, you notice the light that shines in your eyes are rays of sunlight. Your try uttering a few words. But your throat was as dry as the desert, and rough like sandpaper. Forcing out an awful cough. "Am... I in heaven?" Your voice sounding croaked and harsh. Followed by another coughing fit. Your lungs hurt. A sharp pain lancing in your chest. Contorting your insides. Everything hurts. Each movement you made, your bones and muscles ache in response.

 “Sir?” A calming voice of a woman called to you. “Sir, how are you feeling?”

 “Terrible.” You cough, struggling to breathe. “Where am I?”

 “The hospital.” A young woman in nursery clothing showed up in your field of view. “You’re in good hands.” Everything looked pale white. Painfully white to the eyes. “You’re going to be fine.”

You have difficulty in paying attention to her. Your vision doubles, sound dissipates. She was trying to say something, but you couldn’t follow it.

 “The man that saved you is here.” Shaking your arm. "Sir..." Trying to keep you from passing out. "Look.” Helping you up. Your eyes slowly adjusting to the light, taking in the room. Loads of flowers decorated the space. Accompanied by colorful cards on the wall. “He stayed by your side the moment you came in. We could-"

 Her words fall to deaf ears. You couldn't believe your eyes. Blinking repeatedly. You try to sharpen the image. The tears welling in your eyes, not helping a bit.

 “This is heaven.” You mumble. The woman stops and looks at you. Giggling at your comment. Sitting there beside you, resting his head against the side of your bed. Eyes shut, snoring softly with his coat wrapped around him. "T-To���m…"  You try to say, falling into a terrible cough.  

 He jumps a little in his seat by the touch of the nurse. Rubbing the sleepers from his eyes, taking a moment to gather his bearings. But that moment you make eye contact. “(Y/N)!” He cries out. You can’t believe your eyes.

 “It’s really you.” You cough while trying to sit up. Tears streaming freely down your cheeks. "T-Tom!"

 "I can't believe it!" He snickers. Diving onto you, his arms closing around you, sobbing against your neck. You remain like this for a while. Deep in his embrace. Tears, only tears. But tears of happiness. You couldn’t remember when you experienced those.

 “T-Tom…?” You’re afraid to ask but needed to know. “Is… is it over? Is it done? A-Are you free...?”

  “Yes…” He nods, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Yes, I am. You did it. It's over." Cupping your cheeks with both hands, kissing you like you never been before. Euphoria. Blessed. Relieved. You feel alive.

“I cried myself to sleep that night (Y/N). Thinking I would never see you again.”  

 You nod. "I felt so lost without you." Knowing precisely what he meant. "I was so scared, Tom. I… I… thought I… was d-dying." Your body shakes at the thought and recollection of that moment. "It all… happened-d… and… I… I… m-missed you… so m-m-much." The sobs turn into long wails of emotions running freely.

 "It's ok." His arms reach around you, hugging your fragile body close to him. Letting all the tears flow freely. Crying in each other’s arms. "We’re going to be fine.”

 You hold him close, not ever wanting him to go. Locking eyes with him again. The reality of him beside you was heartwarming. That wonderful smile. It filled you with joy and happiness. But the questions burned at the back of your mind. "The nurse said you were the one who saved me? How…?"

 "I found you..." Enveloping your hands in his, pressing kisses to your cold fingers. "-on the floor." His eyes turn red, the tears running down his cheek. Crying for a moment, before he continues.

"A-A-After I heard the first shots close by, everything went so fast. I... saw guards being shot, and I ran… I knew something was wrong. I heard more shots. And… that’s when I turned the corner… I found you..." He weeps. "One moment you were there…" His blood-red eyes look at you with terror. "-the other I realized you were… close to… d-dying in my arms."

 You can't help but kiss him, hold him close. Comfort him as he wailed softly.

"Poor thing." The tears rolling down your cheek. “It’s going to better from here on out. I promise, Tom. I promise you.”

 "I love you (Y/N)." He whispers. His watery eyes lock with yours. "I love you with all my heart."

[fbdo1986]

idk the only fbdo prompt i can think of is cameron falls asleep on the couch so ferris and sloane have a contest to see how much random shit they can put on him before he wakes up. Besides that, the way you wrote cam & sloane’s 1st kiss was very good, how bout writing ferris and cam’s 1st kiss? Unless that’s gonna be in ur new fic of course. Anyway, i’ll be back if i can think of cuter prompts

yo anon… you’re the best!!!! how about i write both???!! it’s hard for me sometimes to write ferris/cam and i have no idea why?? but i’ll do it for you anon! and honestly i’m not too sure if my fic is gonna involve any kissing tbh! i kinda foster ideas as i go

okay! since i am incapable of putting this one in the same timeline of my sloane/cam fic heres one that goes post the fic im working on, which is an interpretation of that fateful day off! (it’s probably a few days after or so)

warning: slight mention of ab*se bc like. cameron’s dad exists

ALSO SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG I GOT CARRIED AWAY!

Cameron narrowly escapes to his room, his hands shakily pressing the button to dial up the Bueller residence. He was high of pure adrenaline, and unfortunately, fear. The spiel about how ‘he wouldn’t be pushed around any longer, and seriously doesn’t a teenager deserve to have a life of his own? and how he’s done nothing except nearly exhaust himself to make the man proud and he doesn’t even notice!?’ actually takes old Morris Frye by surprise, and in a good way. He ruffles Cameron’s hair and goes on about how for the longest time he’s been waiting for his son to become a man, and how maybe, he’s proud of Cam. That is, until he realizes Cameron’s mentioned the car. Then all bets are off. It starts with a loud bellowing yell and Cameron can sense it’s only gonna escalate from here. Quickly, Morris is inching his way closer to Cameron and even though Cam is giving an explanation as quickly as words can exit his mouth to try and derail his father, it’s no use for the man who loves his car more than his own family. The man is seeing red, the red of that precious 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California that tumbled to its death from the garage. And Cameron needs to get out of there before he gets any closer. 

So he makes it to his bedroom, and the immediate response is Ferris. There’s no one who can save him like the boy who can get out of trouble in any situation. The line rings and he hears the familiar, moody hello of Jeanie Bueller. “Hey, it’s Cameron. Can you put Ferris on, please?” His voice wavers, and Jeanie immediately understands. Cameron won’t lose it, not like how he used to, but these things build up. 

“Ferris! It’s Cameron!” Jeanie yells, and Mrs. Bueller asks if everything’s alright. Jeanie keeps silent, letting Ferris spill if he decides to.

Ferris has something inside of him that is fine tuned to discussions of Cameron or Sloane. This shout isn’t typical Jeanie tone, and immediate sirens begin to blare in his ears. From across the house he’s at the phone in the hall, immediately replacing Jeanie at the line. “Hey, what’s up?” He keeps his voice light. Maybe it’s nothing. 

“Fer, I need an out. My old man is gonna kill me for this car. I mean it. He’ll find a way to give me hell. If it was his way I’d never come back.” He lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding in. “Please.”

At this point, Ferris has nearly bitten the inside of his cheek raw. He suddenly regrets all the things he’s ever done to put Cameron at risk of being hurt by his old man. Sure, he did think taking the car out was good for Cameron—he always wished Cameron could loosen up and fully enjoy what good things happened to him—but he could’ve never imagined the state it’d be in by the end of the day. He meant it when he said he’d take the heat for this, and he still does. It kills him to know his foolishness could cost Cameron harm. Ever since Ferris Bueller understood just how horrible things get in Cameron’s house he immediately knew he’d always be there for him. It takes a little longer to realize the reverse is true, that he’d be complete and utterly lost without Cameron, and that he needs him to stay sane. He won’t let that show in his words or his tone. He’s gotta be strong right now because that is what Cameron needs.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll get you out of there.” He covers the receiver. “Jeanie, can I use your car?” A silent nod of understanding from his sister. Mrs. Bueller is insisting to take care of it, she’s always liked Cameron, but Ferris wants it all under his control. “I’ll be there soon, alright?” He asks Cameron, hoping he doesn’t know that he’s keeping his voice from shaking. At least he can’t see his hands.

A deep breath. “Thank you, Ferris. Seriously. You don’t understand how much I appreciate this.” Cameron always knows that Ferris is and always will be there for him, but he’s always grateful when he steps up for things like this. 

Like lightning after Jeanie gives him the keys, Ferris races out of his house and hops into his sister’s car. Ferris is thankful for his driver’s license despite his absence of a car. And he’s thankful for Jeanie at this moment, too. And most importantly, for Cameron. He fights every urge to completely speed over there, since he’d never forgive himself for getting a speeding ticket on the way to his best friend’s house. When he gets to Cameron’s he makes his way to Cameron’s window. He’s willing to risk heat from Morris for sneaking Cameron out, and if the man even thinks he’s getting at Cameron for this he’s sorely mistaken. Has Ferris ever fought anyone? Absolutely not, but Morris Frye deserves to have a taste of his own medicine for once in his life. Ferris raps on the window as quietly as he can, his eyes lighting up immediately when Cameron turns to face him. 

Cameron fights a loud, enthusiastic expression of gratitude, but his sentiments remain. “G-d bless Ferris Bueller.” Ferris simply grins. But his eyes widen with concern when he remembers why he’s here. “Wait, Cam. Are you hurt? Did that son of a bitch—” Ferris can’t stop himself from grabbing at Cameron’s arms and getting a bit too close to look at his face.

Cameron chuckles, swatting him away. “I’m fine, Fer. Quit breathing on me. But seriously, I’m alright.” He looks at Ferris, the absolute goof of a best friend right in front of him. Despite his cool exterior, he really does wear his heart on his sleeve. He’s thankful that all those threats that he’d find a new best friend were never serious. Cameron almost embraces him. Almost. He settles for a shared smile. 

“Okay, let’s get the hell out of here.” Ferris rocks back onto his heels and Cameron swiftly stands up from his bed. They get out through the window and shut it tight. 

The ride to Ferris’s is awkward. Ferris wants nothing more than to crack a joke and relieve this tension, but he doesn’t want to disrespect what’s just happened to Cameron. The radio is on low, playing the current hits. When they reach the Bueller’s Cameron is bombarded with concerned but sweet proddings from Mrs. Bueller and a comforting look from Jeanie. Cameron feels a bit lighter already, but he only feels like he can fully breathe once they’re in Ferris’ room. The Cars are softly playing from Ferris’s stereo while Cameron flops directly onto the bed and Ferris sits next to him. 

“Jesus Christ.” Cameron’s voice is muffled against the comforter, and he slowly turns to face up and look at the ceiling. “I hate this. I can’t believe I have to run away to solve my problems.”

“To be fair, you’re not running away. You’re literally 10 miles away from your house. Plus, I helped you escape.” Ferris leans back on his palms and looks at the ceiling too. “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t done it sooner. I wouldn’t last a day there. I don’t know how you do it. Fuck what Morris says, Cam, you’re the bravest man I know.” He breathes out a sigh and wishes he could say more. 

Cameron shifts and turns to Ferris for a moment. “No way, man. That’s you.” They exchange a glance. Despite being friends for seven years, words like these don’t get shared often between them. “Thank you. Again. Not even just for this, Fer.” He looks at Ferris intensely. “My life outside of that house is what it is because of you. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” 

Ferris averts his gaze, but a smile plays on his lips for a moment. He pauses and draws out the phrase, “You, my love, are worth it all.” 

Cameron’s face is immediately drowned in heat. He doesn’t know why this is so significant but all he feels is his heartbeat in his throat and he can’t help but sit up, dumbfounded. He looks at Ferris and there’s nothing that can convince him the boy was joking. Ferris, inversely, however, is turning pale. 

“What?” That’s all that escapes Cameron’s mouth, but it’s not upset or repulsed. Only curious. 

“Look, Cam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it and it just slipped out and you’re just great, okay? That’s it. You’re just great, the problem is how great you are.” The words slip out so fast Cameron is just barely hanging on. 

“I’m what?”

“You’re fantastic. You’re everything I could ask in a friend and more and I’ve just been thinking it over for a few days and I’m so sorry I ever jeopardized your safety. I need you and all of this wouldn’t even matter if it wasn’t for you, Cameron.” His eyes, deep with worry and passion all at once meet Cameron’s. And without a second thought Ferris’s hands are cupping his face and he presses a kiss into Cameron’s lips. Cameron’s caught off guard, insanely surprised, but as his heartbeat slows he can hear Ferris’s breath in an exhale and Cameron presses a kiss back into Ferris. Cameron smiles and after a moment Ferris parts from the kiss and looks up at his best friend. 

“Didn’t mean shit, Bueller.” Cameron laughs and all of a sudden the light is back in Ferris’s eyes and Ferris can’t think of anything to do but tackle Cameron in a hug. It knocks Cameron’s lanky frame over, but they just lay there and continue to laugh.

[awesomenightfall]

all this and heaven, too

For @lucyrne​! Modern!AU Varric/Bethany nonsense (featuring garbage!Purple!Hawke, ofc.) Mild language and mild (not explicit) sexual content. yes I also snuck in my guilty pleasure ship, Hawke --> Cassandra. Unbeta’d trash. Sorry.

---

Varric was two clicks away from confirming his Edible Arrangements order before sanity returned.

Sorry I had sex with your little sister, enjoy this fruit basket was probably not the best way to broach the subject of his night with Bethany.

Like most things in Varric’s life, he hadn’t planned for it to happen. Bethany Hawke, infinitely good, patient, and wonderful, having a sliver of interest in someone like him was too fantastical for even his overactive imagination. Sure, there had been months of blatant flirting, but Varric figured it was Bethany just being a nice girl. He never could have dreamed that what started as a friendly dinner and drinks would turn into “Oh shit, it’s 4:00 am and Bethany lost her bra under the bed.”

He never could have dreamed that that the venn diagram of Varric’s Pathetic Fantasies and Varric’s Harsh Reality would actually overlap for once in his life.

And of course, it had to happen with his best friend’s little sister.

Worse, it wasn’t even the usual “I’m so sad and lonely and hate myself” sex Varric indulged in. It ventured into “Oh no, I care about you and respect you” territory and that was terrifying in and of itself without the added complication of it being with a Hawke.

Varric knew there was always the option of never telling his best friend about his transgression, but he had had lived the secret relationship life before, and romance novels made it seem so much more glamorous than reality. No one liked to be kept a secret and both Bethany and Hawke (and himself, damn it) deserved better than that.

So here he was, prepared to send his lifelong friend an Edible Arrangement (because nothing said, “sorry I probably betrayed your trust and banged -- lovingly and respectfully, mind you -- your sister” like chocolate covered fruit) just to avoid the face-to-face confrontation.

Shutting his laptop, Varric looked up to his ceiling for answers and sighed when none were given. If he wanted to see where this thing with Bethany went, they’d eventually have to come clean to Hawke.

His phone dinged and, of course, it was the man he was hoping to avoid for the next fifty years or so.

[I'm a hoe, rich bitch and I work like I'm broke still]: the eagle flies at midnight!! caw caw!!

[Varric]: Hawke? When did you change your name in my phone?

[Varric]: Also, what the hell are you talking about? It’s 9:00 pm.

[I'm a hoe, rich bitch and I work like I'm broke still]: meet me @ the gym tomorrow at 7 sharp. officer mchottie lifts bright and early and im gonna be there to meet her. need my wingdwarf to hype me up

Varric was mid “go fuck yourself” text because he did not do mornings and he doubly did not do the gym when a pang of guilt hit him.

Shit.

[Varric]: Fine, but I’m only telling one Champion of Kirkwall story and then I’m out of there. I hate how gyms smell of sweat, self loathing, and despair.

[I'm a hoe, rich bitch and I work like I'm broke still]: ur the best! ;)

No he wasn’t.

He was garbage that was falling in love with his best friend’s sister.

---

“So who is this mystery lady that I got out of bed for?” Varric asked, plopping down on a nearby bench. “A cop? What, going legit, Hawke?”

He and Varric had skirted the law enough times that it was hilarious to think that Hawke wanted to hook up with an officer of the law. Varric was sure this was some kind of weird fantasy fulfillment or maybe Hawke had just run out of women in Kirkwall to have sex with. Either way, he had an ulterior motive: he was helping his friend, so perhaps Hawke would be more open to the possibility of Varric maybe, just maybe, dating his sister.

Hawke craned his neck, tilting his head towards the far side of the room. “10:00 o’clock. Don’t be so obvious. Wait a few seconds before looking.”

“Discretion is my middle name. So, about Bethany --”

“What about her?” Hawke started stretching just for show.

Varric’s throat dried up. The rational part of his mind knew Hawke would probably be fine with it. But the irrational part of his mind, the one that sounded suspiciously like the father of his ex, was screaming that he was worthless and what did have to bring to the table of any relationship?

He was a moderately successful author, he reminded himself. A businessman. A pretty damn good friend. Hawke’s damn good friend. Hawke’s damn good friend who helped get him laid by talking about how awesome Hawke was all the time.

But still...

“We--” Varric narrowed his eyes once he hit the 10:00 position. There stood a very familiar woman, tall, with cropped hair and cheekbones that could cut a man. “Wait. Isn’t that the cop who arrested me a few months back?”

Hawke’s eyes widened innocently. Too innocently. “What? Whatever do you mean?”

Varric scowled. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh my dear, Varric,” Hawke chuckled. “I’m always serious.”

A headache starting from the base of his neck starting creeping up. It was a welcome distraction from his internal “This Is Why I Suck” monologue. “Hawke. She arrested me!”

“Well, maybe you deserved it.”

“She arrested and questioned me trying to get to you!” Varric hissed. It was taking all of his impeccable self control not to drop the Fine, you want to hook up with the cop that cuffed me? Good, because I made your sister scream my name last night. In your apartment bomb. “Where’s your loyalty?”

Says the dwarf sleeping with his friend’s precious little sister.

Hawke gestured towards the woman in question with a flourish. “Who needs loyalty when you could have those biceps? And did you see her abs? I know for a fact that she’s a huge fan of yours. You’re my in.”

Varric scrubbed his hand with his face. He’d rather listen to Anders’ manifesto -- the unabridged version -- than do this, but his conscience was eating at him.

“You owe me. You owe me so much and I’m going to collect, you bastard.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

---

Varric’s pocket vibrated, no doubt a message from Hawke scheming another plan to try to get a date with Officer Pentaghast, who did not take their earlier bait. In fact, she had looked them both over and only uttered a disgusted little, “Ugh” at the interruption to her workout. Varric imagined that the chase made her all the more appealing to Hawke; he was a true masochist.

Maybe that’s why they were such good friends. They did so love to suffer for their bad decisions.

“Is everything alright?” Bethany asked, pausing the television. It was Thursday, which meant they were indulging in their weekly bad reality show watching ritual, but Varric could barely concentrate on the shitty lives of the people on TV because he was so entrenched in his own bullshit. “You’re a million miles away.”

“Yes,” he said immediately but then thought better of himself. Bethany deserved better. “Shit, no. Sorry, Sunshine.”

Bethany gave him a sympathetic look and took his hand. “You’re not internally monologuing again, are you?”

“She said wisely, knowing full well that was exactly what he was doing.” Varric chuckled. “Just thinking about Hawke.”

“Ugh,” she said, not able to disguise the fondness in her voice. “Must you? He gets your attention every other hour of the day. Concentrate on the Hawke in front of you, if you please.”

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Varric had done it a thousand times in the years he had known her, but it felt new, exciting. Great, now he was feeling mushy and gross. As if things weren’t bad enough already. “Sorry. I’m just a little worried what he’ll think.”

Bethany clicked off the television and faced him fully. She frowned a little. “Why? We’re not doing anything wrong.”

He put his hands up. “I know that. You know that. Will he know that?”

“Who cares? You’re talking about a man who has slept with literally all of my friends. And all of your friends. Just desserts, if you ask me.”

Varric snorted. “Going through your rebellious stage, Sunshine?”

She tossed the remote off the couch and climbed into his lap. “Shall we find out?”

Oh, he was in.

---

Three shots of whiskey and Varric was ready.

He was a grown ass dwarf and he was going to bite the bullet and face judgment.

… okay, maybe after one more shot of liquid courage.

“I’m going to just say it,” Varric gasped at the after burn, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m dating your sister. I care about her. She puts up with me, weirdly enough. And she deserves better than us sneaking around. So… there it is.”

Varric steeled himself for the outcome. He didn’t want to lose Hawke -- either Hawke -- but he wasn’t going to damn this relationship to failure without a fight. He just hoped his best friend didn’t deck him too hard.

Hawke put his beer down. “I know.”

“You-- what?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Don’t answer that,” Hawke amended quickly. “But come on, I’m not blind.”

Varric’s shoulder sagged in relief. And then, he was annoyed.

What the fuck? He had been stressed for weeks for nothing?

Maker, he hated this man.

“So you knew the entire time,” Varric said flatly.

“Duh,” said Hawke. “You’re my best mate. She’s my sister. It was so obvious. I think it’s great. I’m happy for you.”

Maker, he loved this man.

Hawke jabbed his beer bottle in Varric’s direction threateningly. “But I better not hear one word about a certain married ex coming into the picture if you’re seriously with my sister. If you hurt her, I hurt you. Clear?”

“Crystal. I know my word doesn’t mean much, but I’ll do this right, Hawke.”

“Great,” Hawke said cheerfully. “Now that that’s all resolved, let’s talk about me and Cassandra --”

“You’re on a first name basis?!”

“ -- picture this. I’m thinking.. Flowers. A shit ton of them. Maybe confetti. Women like confetti, right?”

Varric took another shot with a smirk, feeling better than he had in weeks.

“Sure, Hawke. She’ll like confetti. And extremely loud and ostentatious confessions of love, maybe with doves...”

[you-guys--are-losers]

Promptsmas Day One: First Snow!

//This is for @spiderman-homecomeme​ and her Promptsmas prompts! I am so excited about it, and I wanna thank her for being a beautiful human!

**Special thanks for @im-just-bri for sending me the screenshots of this after I accidentally deleted it!

Prompt: First Snow

Peter has grown used to Michelle Jones over the past few months, in the same way someone acquires a taste for fine wine. 

In the first few weeks of their friendship, her sarcastic remarks and dry sense of humor caught him off-guard. he had not known what to do the first time she fell asleep on his sofa during a sleepover with him and Ned, and Peter had never quite known what to do when he could tell that she was upset about something.

But it only took a few months, because now, Peter is “fluent in MJ.”

Now, he is well-versed enough in her humor to be able to quip back, and he and Ned have gotten used to draping their friend’s preferred blanket over her curled-up, sleeping form. Peter knows now that when MJ is upset, there is only one way to fix it: chocolate chip waffles and TV-show marathons with her and with Ned.

All this said, even if it feels like they’ve been friends for forever, Peter and Ned have only been friends with MJ since the end of sophomore year. This means that there is one thing that the trio hasn’t faced together: winter. As it becomes colder, Peter begins to notice little things about MJ that he has never seen before. As the temperature drops, he adds more and more tidbits to the growing collection of what he knows about their brunette best friend.

He learns that for some reason MJ does not seem to think that she needs a winter coat. She uses hoodies and jean-jackets every day, as if they are perfectly capable of shielding her willowy figure from the cold, and she refuses to accept any offer of a jacket from Peter or Ned. She does own a scarf, though, as well as a pair of fingerless gloves. She almost never takes off the gloves over the course of the entire school day. though MJ gives no reason for this, Peter privately knows that he has discovered something else about her that he did not know about her before-- her hands are always cold.

There are other things he begins to notice, too. Hot chocolate stars to be used as a substitute for tea in the mornings, and every so often Peter and Ned catch a glimpse of fuzzy socks that have been squeezed into her combat boots. Doodles of mittens and scarves begin to replace MJ’s normal sketches of autumn leaves on the corner of her papers. But there is one thing that Peter cannot seem to figure out about her now: MJ is glued to her weather app.

Peter catches her on her phone a lot more regularly than she ever has been before, and she refuses to cite the reason. She isn’t talking to anyone, Peter is sure, because she never appears to be typing a text (not that Peter keeps tabs on her relationship status or anything, though). However, there have been several points in time that Peter has caught her refreshing AccuWeather in the middle of AP Chem.

It’s only when MJ completely drops her phone from excitement that Peter realizes what it is.

It happens on a Monday in fourth hour. MJ’s sharp gasp of excitement catches Peter by surprise, but what really causes him to pay attention is when the cracked iPhone 5 clatters to the floor. The phone skitters across the floor, spinning slowly until it comes to a stop at the foot of Mr. Cobbwell. The sound is enough to make Peter look up from where he is working on improving the web-fluid, and the entire class is looking up now, too. Cobbwell peers back at them with a look of disapproval on his face, one that causes MJ to tense beside him.

“Is something the matter, Miss Jones?” prompts the teacher, raising an eyebrow as he sets down the dry-erase marker he was using.

“No, I, um...” MJ says quickly, her eyes suddenly widening.

She seems to be frozen by all of the eyes in the class on her. MJ is normally one of the most relaxed people that Peter knows, but he also knows that she doesn’t always know how to handle attention. It even took her a while to get used to being noticed by Peter and Ned.

“I was grabbing something from her bag for her, and I knocked it out,” Peter speaks up, gesturing to the bag that is on the table between them. “It’s my bad, sir. Can I grab it?”

Cobbwell hesitates for a moment, but after a second his face softens. Peter knows that both he and MJ have a good standing with him, since Peter is the only one who laughs at his science puns and MJ returns one of her own every once in a while.

“Alright, Mr. Parker. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he decides, and Peter slides out of his seat in order to grab the phone with the worn, purple case. As soon as he has it, Peter returns to his seat and sits down beside MJ.

As soon as the lesson resumes, MJ glances back over at him with an acutely uncomfortable expression on her face. “Sorry,” she mutters, allowing a piece of hair that has escaped from her curly ponytail to fall into her eyes. “Thanks, Parker.”

She reaches for her phone, but before he hands it over, Peter turns it over and peers at the screen. There is a lightbulb moment in his head, and a smile plays with his lips as he passes it back.

“So, an 85% chance of snow on Friday, huh?” he comments as she takes the phone. He knows that the smug grin isn’t gone as she slides the phone into the pocket of her bomber jacket. He is pleased because he finally understands why she’s been on her phone so much, finally gets this one little piece of her.

MJ has been waiting for the first snow.

“Shut up, loser,” she instructs as she returns to her online notes. That isn’t enough to get peter off of her scent, though. He can see that she is struggling to keep him from noticing the rosy tinge of her skin, the reddened tips of her ears.

He doesn’t bring it up for the rest of the day, though Peter can see she is waiting for him to do so. Still, he doesn’t say anything in front of Ned, even though it’s become a habit of theirs to recap for him what happened in the one class the three of them don’t share. Ned is stuck next door in AP Computer Science, so he normally gets a play-by-play of the entire class... But not today. Peter lets her be lulled into a false sense of security over the course of the week as Friday rolls around, with all of its anticipation in tow.

Peter can see it in every inch of her body-- an excited sort of tension in her muscle, a skip in her step as she walks. Peter pretends not to notice it, but the gleam in her eyes is just enough to warm his chest a bit, despite the bite in the air. She is barely being subtle about her phone anymore as she checks the the hourly forecast, but this is to Peter’s advantage.

MJ is so preoccupied with her own phone that she does not see Peter doing the exact same thing.

It is scheduled to come during Chem, so Peter keeps an eye on the window the entire class period. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the sky of swollen gray clouds, clouds that are waiting to unleash flurries of thick snow onto the city. Peter can’t help but feel the childlike excitement brewing in his chest now. According to the app, it’s supposed to happen any moment, and the lesson has just begun. Peter’s mind has never been farther from thermochemistry.

And once he sees it, the subject matter flies out of his head, out the window, and into the air, which is carrying the first new, fresh flakes.

Peter glances quickly at the girl next to him, who is so focused on her phone that she has not noticed the flakes yet. It is then that Peter sneaks out his own phone and sends a quick text to Ned.

now.

Not even thirty seconds after Peter sneaks his phone back into his pocket, there is a flickering of the lights, and then the classroom is plunged nto darkness. There is a startled murmur that ripples throughout the room, and it is then that Peter acts.

“MJ,” he hisses as Cobbwell struggles to regain control of the class.

In the darkness, Peter can see the outline of MJ’s face, which is lit by the cool winter light coming through a single window. She does not even turn to him, still scrolling through her AccuWeather.

“What?” she hums. “Parker, in case you didn’t notice, we’ve just gone full dystopian novel, so it’s not the best time for me to help you with the homework problems. Maybe if you want to get ready for the Hunger Games together, we can talk-”

“What? No,” Peter interrupts, a grin forming on his lips. “Come on. We’ve only got a couple minutes to get out.”

“Get out?” MJ repeats, and now she’s looking up from her phone. “I was kidding, loser, not-”

“It’s snowing,” Peter states, dropping each word with equal weight, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

MJ stares at him blankly for a moment, and then a playful grin crosses her face. “No way,” she finally laughs under her breath, shaking her head. The laugh, the smile, cause his heart to skip a beat for some reason. “Even you two nerds aren’t that good.”

“Aren’t we?” Peter hums smugly, thinking about the time they completely hacked Tony Stark’s own spideysuit. “Come on. Do you want to go, or not?”

MJ peers at the open door, then back at him. One last glance is spared for the window, where the snow is coming down in increasing speed. Then, finally, she turns back to him.

“You first, then me,” she instructs.

Without another word, Peter says something to Cindy Moon about going to grab his homework from his locker. As he heads out, Peter can hear MJ asking Abe to tell Cobbwell that she had to go to the bathroom. He is out the door first, and then a moment later MJ practically materializes by his side with a bathroom pass in her pocket and a little grin on her face.

“Come on, before someone sees,” she instructs, and before Peter can fully process what’s happening, she grabs his forearm and begins to run down the hallway.

For some reason, as they run, blood rushes to Peter face. He has run down this hallway many times before-- to save people from a bus crash, to go and stop a robbery in progress, and even to fight with Liz’s dad. But this is a good reason to be running, and he is all too aware of the warmth that her hand leaves on his arm as they turn and sneak out one of the building’s side doors and onto the path to the football field.

For a moment, the cold air washes over them, and Peter can feel both of their muscles tense. Then, MJ tugs him father away from the building and into the openness of the courtyard behind the school. 

The snow is falling in thick, fluffy flakes that stick together in the air, forming chains of cottony, clumpy snow. They flakes are so large that they appear to be spun from sugar, the sort of snow that is everywhere in the air. It surrounds them, as far as he can see, falling so slowly that is seems suspended in the air. peter feels like he is inside of a snow globe with her.

MJ is frozen still, and Peter’s eyes travel to her face as she takes it in and ignores him completely. He doesn’t mind being ignored in the least-- he would much rather be free to study the childlike wonder in her eyes, the awe that is written into every line and curve of her face as she blinks, disrupting the flakes that have settled onto her long lashes.

For a moment, Peter can’t breathe, because she looks like she belongs here and nowhere else.

The snow nestles into her kinky curls, dusts her shoulders, and settles on her long lashes as she tips her face slightly up to the sky. For a moment, her eyes close entirely, and she seems to be drinking in the cold air and the caresses of the snowflakes as they fall down around her.

For a second, Peter wonders what it would be like to slide his arm away slightly, so she was gripping his hand in that same gentle grasp that encircles his forearm.

But then, her eyes open, and they are wild with excitement. “Come on!” she insists. “We have to do that lame thing where we catch snowflakes on our tongues. For scientific purposes.”

“Scientific purposes?”

“Gotta taste those chemicals the corporations are pouring into the atmosphere, Parker. Come on.”

And then, they spend a good ten minutes outside tasting the snow and letting it settle in their hair and on their shoulders. Peter knows it is borrowed time, that Ned is going to have to come up with a good excuse later and that he and MJ are going to have to be extra convincing when it comes to their return to class.

But none of that matters as Peter Parker watches Michelle Jones spin like a child in the center of the school courtyard, with snow in her hair and an easy smile on her lips. All that matters is that he gave her that smile, the one that drives away the winter chill and leaves him with only her warmth.

[icharchivist]

@x-theskyatdawn-x ​ replied to your post “@x-theskyatdawn-x replied to your photoset “huh hi, why had no one…”

TEACH ME THE LAVEN WAYS ;D

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

*annoncer from old movies’s voice* Do you like ships based on friendship? Ships with a lot of playful teasing going on between them? Ships with a lot of thematic parallelism?  Ships with a Light Quote? Ships that will definitly break your heart to pieces? Then Laven is for you!

under the cut because i ramble:

I think the best way to get into this ship is to focus on them, especially when Lavi is in the back. Because… damn shit gets intense. Honestly i didn’t even expect to ship them, it started as a joke, and then suddenly it hits me and i was "…..oh” ever since. (which is basically what happened to Lavi im just sayin’)

I think something I feel really strongly about this ship is that, Lavi started the manga thinking he didn’t care for people all that much. We know, thanks to the novel, that he was indeed getting closer to people in the Organization, but he still was keeping distant. 

When he meets with Allen, he imediatly starts to tease him. Something Lavi does with everyone, but what I love is how Allen does end up loosing it up around Lavi. He’s either extra polite with people (see with Lenalee) or he blows off completely (like with Kanda) but then with Lavi it seems a right ballance of him being still kind, but also still ending up wrapping into Lavi’s stupid stuff. They tease each other (the vampire arc) and Allen will be playful with Lavi, which imo shows he’s already more comfortable in general, since Allen usually keeps up the Polite Face he learnt from Mana.

Lavi on his end, well, he does evolve a lot around Allen. He starts the story rather cynical, but he grows so close of Allen that the loss of Allen hurts him far more than he expected. So much that he holds on the Ace of Spades.

 you… probably heard me fangirl about this beauty, but you should definitly read this post to get exactly what I mean. I think appreciating what the Ace of Spades represented was what made me so emotional about them to start with.

The framing when Allen dies is so big. Anita talks about how she believes Cross is alive because it’s the only thing that gives her strength, and this sentence? Is said while we see Lavi contemplating the Ace of Spades, the card that he links to Allen, and that it’s when he thinks to himself “that’s right, Bookman has no need for a heart” because that’s the moment he realizes his grief is taking over the emotionless person he’s supposed to be. 

Which goes on and on (and is even worse if you believe in Lavi = Heart theory, since long story short, the Lavi = Heart theory lays on the fact that we know the Heart of Innocence is hiding in the Order, it has been retrieved, and we know that it’s “creating dummies” - creating/modifying powerful innocences to hide among them without being noticed. And this point, the two innocences that changed were Allen and Lenalee’s after both of their situations have Lavi completley lose it to his emotions). 

Some of the further serious moments, Lavi knows Allen is alive, he knows he needs to controle his emotions, yet he immediatly jumps on Tyki when he meets him, furious, because it’s the one who hurt Allen. Lavi “I have No Heart” Bookman is a bad liar.

Once Allen comes back, Lavi takes a backstep, but you’d notice though that… Lavi is always kinda close? He’s always in the back. 

Until of course, this wonderful scene:

Nice Lavi.

^This is especially an interesting scene because Lavi had been keeping an eye on Allen ever since they met. After Lavi got to see the Akuma’s souls for himself, he was kinda disturbed by the fact that Allen could carry on smiling happily to not worry anyone while he was seeing those horrors all the time. I think from that point, Lavi started to see through Allen’s masks - that Allen’s smile was as fake as his, even if it had another reason for it. So Lavi gets to see through those smiles and acknowledge that Allen may be hiding greater pain than he may look like.  (better post about it there)

The whole Dream with Road is extremely interesting too, but it’s explored in the Ace of Spades post i linked: Road kept trying to find ways to break Lavi. She wasn’t just awakening Lavi’s worst fears, she was reading his heart to know where she had to hurt. So she tried - she played around. She first had Lenalee blame him for not caring for them, she has everyone turning on Lavi, she forces Lavi to acknowledge he’s failing those people. But it doesn’t break him. What does though? Is when she makes Allen appears to him, gentle, softening that Lavi held on to the card for him without Bookman’s knowledge - when she shows him Allen being glad of Lavi showing his friendship - only to have his “Bookman self” kill Allen because “he’s just ink on paper”

And that’s when Lavi lowers his guard, that’s when he falls down, that’s where the Ace of Spades becomes a blank page that run out of ink. That’s when Lavi’s spirit got broken: by having Allen being soft to him and being glad to be his friend, before being destroyed in front of him.

And while it was Lavi’s weakness, it was also his strength - as Allen called for Lavi. When you see how the later chapters say that the call of your name by a loved one (even if the loved one is platonic, as long as the feeling is sincere), can bring back a wandering soul back to his body. And Allen? Goes on the whole fight calling Lavi over and over, and hugging him because “Lavi, can’t you heart my voice?”. 

stuff i’m emo about: this^. 

And eventually, it gets through, eventually, Lavi manages to deal with what’s happening in his brain, and Lavi takes back control of his own body.

He has no memories of fighting Allen, and despite being in pain, he immediatly starts joking off with Allen again while Allen is basically being annoyed that Lavi put himself in danger this way.

And then Joyd comes, and suddenly Allen isn’t in good shape anymore, and Lavi, with the very few strength remaining to him, that tries to protect him and i’m emotional.

And then, when they go back home - things go back to normal. Actually, Lavi tries to find opportunities to be with Allen. He wants to ask Allen to sneak out the Infirmry with him to get food (it doesn’t happen because Allen is already gone, but Lavi “I have no Heart” Bookman was seeking for such a simple fun moment with Allen) - or later, when Link starts to investigate on Allen, Lavi tries so hard to stick around. Like there’s at one point, Link trying to get Allen to answer questions and asks for Allen to join him in the library for it, and Lavi, who was chilling with Allen before it happens, immediatly goes “i’ll go check some book what a coincidences ~” and is just shut down by Link, and he stops following. In a way, Lavi just wanted to stick around. Hell you even see him brushing his teeth with Allen (and Link and Bookman who happen to be there too, but Lavi and Allen are the ones to talk and jokes together), and i’m personally a sucker for those little domestic moments.

It’s after Lenalee’s innocence change to a crystalization that Bookman becomes  more severe and tells Lavi to focus on his duty as bookman, to not get closer to the innocence. And after that, Lavi starts to shut down. He gets distants.

Plus, a bit after that, there’s the Cross & Allen conversation about Mana - in which Lavi was forced to assist as a Bookman. He was clearly recording the scene, and he wasn’t pleased. He probably saw Allen at the lowest Allen has ever been, doubting even if he was ever loved by Mana - at a point in the story where Lavi was already knowing he was supposed to keep his distances. 

And well of course right now we know it’s gonna abe suffering considering their situations but….

What I’m trying to say still is that, Lavi and Allen are close. And they get friendly around each other, a lot even despite those walls they built around themselves because of the choices they made. And by wording it this way, I want to point out how it plays on what I called Thematic Parallelisms.

Lavi and Allen’s storyline are heavily linked to their Identity. They are two people who picked a road, and decided to stick to it (becoming a bookman/being an exorcist) but on this road, they ended up having to make decisions between two conflicting part of their identity (Bookman&Exorcist/Exorcist&Noah). Suddenly they’re being asked to pick a side, to pick who they really are.

Not to mention, they are both characters with names that aren’t really theirs. We know Lavi changes name all the time, and we know Allen’s name was only picked up after the death of the dog Allen, since his name was originally Red.  - meanwhile he named himself Walker after Mana’s death, he wasn’t named this way.)

They have such a duality, about who they are and what people expect them to be, and what they want to be, and what people force them to go through. They are both suffering directly from their bonds with the Noah (hell, considering Lavi is suffering especially because of the Bookman’s bonds to the 14th, it’s even bigger). 

In the end, though it’s just - they are friendly and they tease each other so much they let each other’s masks fall down sometimes. 

I love the fact they can have… just be dorks y’know. Like that time in the guidebook Allen chased down Lavi with Wasabi to have him eat it after Lavi took him a piece of food. Like they are just?? dorks?? 

Now don’t get me wrong, I totally get them as platonic, and they will always have an amazing dynamic no matter what, but i’m truly a sucker for Friends who just enjoy to have fun together, who tease each other, and especially, Thematic parallelism. Add a sprinkle of Angst with grieffing and fearing losing the other, and you got me convinced.

I don’t think i can explain it more for now since my mind is a bit blurry but o(-( ye. I. Really love their dynamics. And that cover i pointed out? It’s just one of those fun little moments between them i just love. I want more of that… especially since they will probably suffer a lot soon a ha ha haah aha .

Anyway hope maybe this can bring u to the laven side

join us we’re a few but we’ve been crying 

take care!

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

These boys.

Matt said he wanted his tree to go first but I didn't. So, I told him to tell me in my head

Then i told him he cheated he had to say it out his mouth.

Wonder why our trees play pranks? Don't.

So Barbarian Frankenstein couldn't handle not having me or that his soulmate was dead. So he claimed his dad made his tree and he was just claiming the rest of the techs for him Because he was busy.

Matt and him got into it because barbarian Frankenstein totally slipped up.

Anyways so tonight Matt's tree got the huge Sahara job by himself

And it's the only one I've told to grow plants.

And so this little mastermind...

Played them all!!

Matthew says hes fucking embarrassed.

Tom tells me "well played" and that "his face is so red he looks like a pickle"

BF: I would never imagined she would done that. Sent me first to save Matt. But it's cause she thinks you're weak you know that.

Me: i thought he went with the tree and didn't want him to get hurt. I knew he was my soulmate.

Tom: busted!

BF: oh you know you are too fun! But thank you. I still get to be the American hero and you're the chump

Me: he's the gardner

BF: oh my bad he gardens with tender hands

Me: like your abe Lincoln one.

BF: well shit fuck I got nothing to say. Except I got my woman at my house.

Matt: I don't get into piddly shit with tots.

Me: that was the wrong time to say that.

Matt: I didn't mean you i meant him

Me: I know but it didn't look right typed.

BF: is that why you don't talk? Because you don't know how

Matt: because the truth hurts and I'm not gonna hurt you just because you're being a sore loser

BF: Uh okay I get to go first and you get to garden.

Me: let me review my typing. Please hold your tongue. See. First barbarian Frankenstein you lied to every one. Then you attacked Matt in multiple ways. So it seems you're a control freak bully, sir.

BF: So I'll go with being red faced there's nothing wrong with being embarrassed in comparison to what I've said.

Matt: there bravo. Thats a good man

Me: he's being sincere

BF: Tom don't laugh

Tom doesn't obey the control freak bully

And Barbarian Frankenstein offers hugs to every one including Matt who accepts. I don't. My back hurts.

Edit: in 2008 they had the same fight but i didn't say anything. Neither did Matt. Barbarian just kept making me madder and madder. So for 1 hour and 42 minutes it went on until Saint Luches said "we don't have to let this continue" and finally I let my tears fall.

So Saint Luches tried to talk to the Barbarian who just yelled back "I'm not!!" So Saint Luches punched his jaw and walked away.

I told matt to come on about it and he told us two to go first because it was him Barbarian wanted to fight.

So he fucking tackled him from behind and pinned him down and said all kinds shit and Matt spit in his face and Saint Luches kicked him off Matt and pulled him up but he was knocked out so i went and slapped him around a bit and told him let's go.

So then I took him to the bedroom. Stripped him down told him not to move on the bed. Said "im sorry I don't know what else to say or do. But that was so goddam sexy while I ripped off my clothes" inside he screamed i was crazy.

But when I said "cant you get up, come on let's fuck" he understood i was crazy about him

A few strokes later the bedroom door swung open and the Barbarian bellows "I thought I won!!"

Saint Luches and Roger are trying to pull him back out of the room "nope! Don't apologize!!"

Barbarian breaks free "Sabrina you don't need to hold your tits I've seen them before"

Matt tells him he can get a real good look if he got closer. Matt hit him in the head witha pillow 2 times soft. While barbarian annoyed me with his face parallel to my tits so I elbowed it down and away which was perfect for Matt to knock out punch him then throw me to the side before thr Barbarian slammed into me.

So we went on the other side of the bed on the floor to fuck.

And Saint Luches said "explain to me why h3 didn't win for Pete's sake"

"Who's Pete?" Im fucking my man but I can hold a conversation

"Just people in general"

"Because Matt actually cared about me. Thats why we sat out there so long and let him ramble on because first i got really mad but i noticed Matt didn't care. Like he thought it was funny. So then it started to hurt my heart because it was so bad. Like i didn't want him on the planet anymore and so Matt told me to chill"

"But he didn't say anything!!!" Barbarian was looking under the bed at Matt's Dick being rode hard.

"Uhm yes he did you doofus! But you didn't listen and think you were king of nothing!!"

"You!!!" He looked up over the bed at my face then back down under the bed to see sex

"Oh you wanna look at his Dick?!? You really wanna see how big it is?!?!" I got onto my feet and raised myself real high a few times nice and slow.

"YOU NEED TO QUIT!!!!"

"You need to fuck off. You can fuck yourself you know that. I can't. Neither can he"

"How much is he paying you? I got money. Come see me next!" And he threw $3,000 in the bed and walked out.

"Im keeping it but I ain't fucking you. You can fuck yourself im taking it as apology money that I'm not a hermaphrodite!!!"

So the next day... Matt always sat on this ledge in the Adobe wall outside... And the Jesse's liked to sit there too So they would share sitting or get down if they wanted to lay down.

And Barbarian went and punched Matt in the face and his head cracked open on the wall behind. But there was cactus and I wasnt going over there so tree fixed him and slapped barbarian then punched him in the stomach and used a pressure point to,make him pass out and told us to go in and lock the door.

So we did.

Then we had a nap and lunch and then matt on top sex and guess which sexual intercourse police man walked in. Barbarian. So I threw Matt off me and walked up the the barbarian who thought he had an award. Shoved him out the door, closed it as the barbarian screamed "WHAT?!?!?" and had Matt help me push the bed against the door and the dresser against the bathroom door which had a lock.

We stayed that way for 3 days after sneaking off to buy a cooler with ice and food while my 4 year old daughter camped with Dan. Declan and Sara's kids and 2 of Declan's assumed cousins at the lake.

Sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

But Matt didn't fight back. But he comforted me with body language and all as he saw my emotional face.

That was more of a man to me than someone who could use mean words to show his favor.

Sure it may look like i don't want Matt to get hurt makes me think hes weak. But i have a heart condition and i need someone who can pay attention to that by me when there's crazy going on. Not look at a tree that is symbolic of him and make the intensity worse.

This shit is scary. Its sad. It's not healthy for me.

So I need someone paying attention to what's inside me, like Matt does.

I love the Barbarian. I do. But hes not my soulmate. Pure and simple.

And Matt always forgives him Because Matt understands him. But Matt will fight him when Matt feels it's appropriate.

But sometimes his attitude hurts me too much and makes me too sad that it's hard to forgive and forget right away.

And Matt will defend me that I don't want him around.

And apparently y'all all seen a whole show the other night on TV.

[thewomaninlilywhite]

Miss Peregrine’s Movie Reactions

I finally watched this movie on a flight last weekend.

***WARNING CONTAINS SPOILERS*** NOT JUST FOR THE MOVIE, I REFERENCE THINGS FROM ALL THREE BOOKS AS WELL anything with various *** marks is something I didn’t fact check, so I apologize if I am actually wrong about any of those

Sorry that this is so freaking long, but I had issues Also, these are the things I wanted to say to my screen, so I don’t have context for them, sorry

Short Version: I thought the movie itself was well done, but it’s an awful adaption

I didn’t know Georgia Pemberton was in this Opening credits music cuts off oddly Who is this chick driving him Abe doesn’t sound Polish ?? Did it really take that long to get to his house? Aight Sam Jackson I miss Spike (I know that isn’t his name) - like, I don’t think this chick has a gun on her Chick = Shelley Oh she does But it’s a .38 not a .44*** so… I feel like this happened rather fast? Don’t think that’s a letter opener either Find Emerson - it’s “find the old man, get to the bird in the loop” or whatever 1943???? Not 1940 Who tf is Emerson Told him what, we haven’t even been told about the stories ????? WTF is that. That is NOT a hollowghast A hollow is only like 8-10 feet not 3 f king stories (unless I misread the books) ——-side note: I always subconsciously pictured the hollows as something (from some movie or something) that I know they didn’t actually look like buttttt) Who’s this shrink. Shouldn’t she be Sam Jackson - what? Case. CLOSED - sorry AWE “everything’s already been discovered” - iconic!!! Tikrisko?? -  Yakov!! NO Jake doesn’t see the pictures until they’re going through the house ?? What is this He doesn’t know what Miss Peregrine’s name is nor that she can turn into a bird He’s not supposed to know the names Bronwyn is older No Emma can create fire, olive floats THIS IS OLIVE Nope, Alma found him. He wasn’t sent this. His family died Doesn’t know what hollows look like. Finds that out when Abe dies All these Jakes are adorable Can they not say Nazis? Because he’s being very nondescriptive The surprise party ong Why are there twins. I’m uncomfortable oh my gosh the essays, at least they did something right Shouldn’t the letter be from Emma ugh So that’s Goland? what the heck Oh now they bring up the birdwatching The doctor isn’t supposed to know about the home*** Cairnholm - good Nope I’m yelling Not supposed to see the bird until they’re in the room And his father isn’t supposed to know Alma Ugh 19 minutes in and I’m screaming I relate to Jake on a spiritual level Whet Defeats the whole sneaking away trust ugh He’s so tiny YAS he shoulda said piss instead of priest but the  rap was nearly verbatim* What is this river? Where’s the sheep shack Wondrous Exactly how i pictured it Where’s the old man Oh that’s how Emerson falls in Jake is supposed to have his own room ugh Oh so he is sneaky But where’s the cairn AND THE OLD MAN the twins aren’t introduced until the second book Enoch’s lair is supposed to be in the basement -The kids and the hole. It’s iconic They’re not supposed to address him Whet I hate this I don’t even know where to begin the twins shouldn’t exist And Millard shouldn’t have clothes on There’s just so many issues This is not a bog UGH this is not wrong it’s sickening the twins are pissing me off oh my gosh -Tim just fell in love with them, didn’t he Okay, the cairn is not how I imagined it but I’ll live They literally didn’t even address the priest hole This is 20s music not 40s ong Goodness Oh now he stripped Why is Millard like 7 And he hasn’t even formally met Emerson yet what is going on He’s not supposed to be taken He’s not supposed have this much information yet Whet Olive and Emma’s powers are switch gosh This like isn’t Yea Alma? Kinda appreciate it though like #relatable And Enoch is supposed to be much younger I give up. I’m going to take a break until Goland arrives … if he arrives GEORGIA IS FIONA OH MY GOSH. I CAN OVERLOOK THE HAIR BECAUSE I LOVE HER Imbrin NOT Imbrine - book 3 literally tells you this Now I’m on break 30 minutes later…Jk: Yes Enoch/Victor Hi bird man - you’re ANOTHER new actor “Air - it does what I want” - what does that even mean olive. I mean Emma Since olive’s supposed to be like 10 the photographs At least some are taken from the books Baron - so like forget Jack/Bentham Guess there won’t be sequels rip Hollows can’t enter loops I’m still annoyed by this At least they got the tentacle right Actually it was controlling them but you don’t know that yet Oh, so they ARE  called hollows - good Disaster of 1908 - wait. Is the experiment address in the first book**** Because if not this means that Burton has read the other books and there should not be this many issues Oh so Burton Didn’t acknowledge the immortality first Well it’s the souls in the first book But the third book acknowledged the eyes so… THEREFOR there should be more hollows than that jeez Disaster of 1908 - Siberia - ANYTHING ??? Oh, second book ref So bird man’s not one of the identities? Jk he probs is Yup whey No. That’s not it. There are several issues Yea? Hollows. Can’t. Enter. Loops The twins are annoying me Is it a hint that there won’t be a sequel Whey IT CANT ARRIVE HERE GAH Alma my bby This would be so much better if it was Jack cuz I love any good sibling showdown Or, are they setting up a second? but they can’t with the whole baron thing because if he’s not her brother, he can’t disguise himself as a falcon Miss Avocet is still with them ?? *sings* she should have been kidnapped toooo That’ll surely screw up the space/time continuum There we go Wait. Did it just eat her?? So much for a sequel That thing shouldn’t even be there Oh wait, yes it can cuz it’s an evolved one. Right!!!!!!!!! If they’re not doing a sequel, they better not kill Fiona and Claire now* awe they never got to bury Victor’s body… Ugh, but the freezer scene is iconic No lighthouse scene either Wait, there’s an half hour left ?? And why Blackpool and not London - what are you doing with your life Really The tiny boat though !!! Goodness I’m so mad Right, of course, let’s steal the sunken CRUISE SHIP No she won’t, because they’re in 1940 But it’s 1940 1943, way after the disaster of 1908 so it doesn’t work that way You literally CREATED plot holes Bloody hell You’re literally wrong Aughck Still saying Ymbryne wrong… What are you doing So no other movies… rip #salty Oh it’s blackpool instead of london because it’s closer to wales. gotcha Oh look, they reference London and the loop in the tube —but not the one in ST. PAUL’S ya know, WHERE THEY FIND THE TWINS ————-AKA the key inspiration for my crossover fic that’ll never happen Where’d everyone else go The story book is one of the best parts of the series, c'mon Whey What are those *eye roll* SIEZE ONE YAKOV and this is books two She literally left those shoes at the home what is this inconsistency ??? Sorry, no sympathy, Malthus That sounds like your problem So unnecessary Such a Burton Movie-esque score jeez Actually LAUGHED at the hollow getting hit by a car goodness Well, that’s one way to kill a Wight Wait, was it ever acknowledged that they’re called wights? Oh, of course, skeletons What is this music I just want Jake to shoot Baron What the f YAKOV They got the black blood thing* —-that was a thing, right I’m over it oh poor you Eye-dly ??? I hate myself Why are they turning into animals ??? What is Horace’s peculiarity supposed to be in this because it’s like wrong ??? Death by flowers - I appreciate it Nope Cuz Enoch just carries hearts on him wait, that’s actually true nvm WHERE did that elephant come from so the twins are medusa? cause I just thought their scream was piecing Cuz then that stone thing’s so not their pecu- I give up Oh, Fiona and Claire are little so let’s kill Olive WHICH IS IRONIC BECAUSE SHES LIKE 10 IN THE BOOKS oh, true love’s kiss wakes the dead. OKAY I’m so done I don’t even know what’s happening anymore Was that supposed to be funny? YAS Alma Hopefully it’s not Alma though Why is she blue ? I just processed that Why would he stop him Oh right shape shifting Ugh IM PECULIAR yo. You’re opportunity was right there WAIT IS HE CONTROLLING IT but does it count if it’s a wight’s eyes Like, why would a hollow attack a wight UNLESS JAKE MADE IT So, no one’s dead? but how is he supposed to get home - you don’t have an Ymbryme !! Wait Alma’s alive nvm So are they gonna kiss or what Well okay then Aren’t they in 1943 though ?? Nice timing Shouldn’t he have missed calls from his dad? Why is Abe alive? Oh, right. blah Why I just I’m cringing No, you’re supposed to say “but you know WHEN they are” Goodness Right of course. So he’s just gonna live in 1943 now okay Do his parents like even know ANYTHING Are they dead? Sure okay Wow right LONDON Oh now they kiss It’s titanic I love Georgia Damn, it was Alma Why isn’t she with them, she’s their Ymbryne Oh they just needed the dramatic shot Mary Poppins is a rogue Ymbryne Crossover fic - it’s happening I actually started writing it when I reread the books over winter break, but haven’t committed to it because of ALNF… What is this credits music ?? I just don’t even know what to say I think I would have enjoyed it if I never read the books but since I did… AND NO SEQUEL the whole Devil’s Acre sequence is sick (and I also love Sharon) and I also just wrote an essay on these books sooo

Well, there. Here are my thoughts on Tim Burton’s Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children

If you actually read all these, mad props. Shoot me an ask and let’s chat about it