#he makes all the Rudolfs long for him

[sarcasticdolphin]

Because swishes are important.

[fitzrove]

tag rambles

[waitimcomingtoo]

I’ll Cry If I Want To

Pairing: enemies to lovers!Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Synopsis: you get stood up on your birthday and Peter attempts to cheer you up despite your feud

Masterlist

Peter walked into the kitchen in the tower and was immediately greeted by a confetti popper exploding in his face followed by a tender kiss on the forehead from Tony.

“Oh, my. Good morning to me.” Peter smiled at the greeting.

“Damn it, Parker.” Tony groaned. “I thought you were my little girl.”

“Don’t feel bad, daddy. A lot of people confuse Peter for a little girl.” You said as you walked into the kitchen behind Peter. The two of you made eye contact and you gave him an innocent smile while he rolled his eyes at you.

“Ha ha.“ He said sarcastically and then hissed at you like a cat. You gave him a look as you walked over to your dad.

“Happy birthday, baby girl.” Tony said and pulled you into a long hug.

“Thank you, daddy.” You smiled and hugged him back.

“Thank you, daddy.” Peter said in a high pitched voice to mock you. You and Tony looked at him and he quickly cleared his throat.

“Sorry. What I meant to say was, happy birthday. I didn’t know that was today. I mean, I’d been wondering why you looked so old but I assumed it was from your lack of sunscreen use.”

“Nice try. I wear sunscreen everyday.” You replied.

“Really?” He gasped. “Might want to up that SPF a few. You look like a crumbled piece of paper and not in a fun Taylor Swift way.”

“Don’t talk to me about skincare, Rudolf.” You snapped and tapped your nose twice to point out the zit on the tip of Peter nose. He covered it with his hand and narrowed his eyes at you.

“Children, please. No fighting. It stops my moisturizer from sinking in.” Tony sighed and rubbed circles into his skin.

“Sorry, daddy. I just wanted to make sure Peter knew about the giant pimple on his nose in case he was going to see anyone today.” You said as you smiled sweetly at Peter. He discreetly flipped you off by scratching his cheek with his middle finger.

“Any plans for the night, jelly bean?” Tony asked you.

“Nothing crazy. My friends are coming over later for a sleepover.”

“Oh God. Is this gonna be one of those crazy parties where you all get drunk and things get out of hand and you accidentally kill someone and have to dispose of the body together while hijixs ensues?” Peter. whined.

“No, because this isn’t one of the pornos you watch.” You scoffed.

“Pfft. That is not what I watch.” He insisted. “Where would I even find something like that? What would I even type? I’m open to suggestions.”

“Shut up.” You laughed. “You’re such a weirdo. And don’t be hanging around when my friends are here. I already told them you’re a pervert and on the FBI watch list so you don’t have a chance with any of them.”

“I don’t want to date your freakbob friends anyway.” He scoffed. “And to keep it down tonight, will you? I already wake up the birds chirping every morning. I don’t want to hear you birds all night too.”

“I actually came up with a solution for that. What if you killed yourself?” You asked through a smile.

“That’s a great idea. I might give that a whirl today if I’m not busy.” He replied and matched your smile.

“You? Busy?” You laughed. “Please. Busy doing what?”

“Peter and I are gonna be in the lab doing boring stuff with the suits. Adjustments, additions, and what have you.” Tony answered you.

“Oh. Okay. Do you need any help?” You asked.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that on your birthday, baby girl. Peters got it.” Tony replied, making your smile falter a little.

“Yeah. I’ve got it.” Peter boasted and gave you a smug look. You glared at him for a moment before looking back at your dad.

“I’ll catch you later for some cake, okay honey bun?” Tony told you before kissing your forehead.

“Okay. Bye. Have fun.” You smiled sadly as he left the room.

“You look greasy, by the way.” Peter said once you were alone.

“Like I care what you think. Even your hairline won’t stay with you.” You scoffed and nodded towards his forehead.

“It’s not actually receding, is it?” He asked and touched his hair.

“Maybe your forehead is just getting bigger.” You shrugged and popped a grape in your mouth from the bowl on the table.

“Bite me.” He replied and stopped touching his hair.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You chuckled. “Isn’t that how you got your powers, spider boy?”

“Yup. What do you think would happen if you bite me? Would I be able to a do anything a total bitch can?” He wondered, making you pelt a grape at him. He caught it with ease and popped it into his mouth.

“Watch your mouth before I bring out the peppermint essential oils again.” You warned him.

“You wouldn’t.” He said quietly.

“Try me.” You shrugged. You stared at each other across the kitchen for a moment before Peter gave up.

“You win. Here’s your card. Happy birthday, gaylord.” He said as he handed you a homemade birthday card from his jeans pocket before quickly running out of the room. You rolled your eyes at him but smiled once he was gone and read the card. As annoying as you normally found him, you appreciated that he remembered your birthday. Inside the card was a crude drawing of the two of you fighting next to a drawing of a gift card to Planet Fitness.

Peter strolled into your bedroom around 10 pm when he had grown curious as to why your friends weren’t there yet. It was getting kind of late and you had listed many activities that you had planned to do while Peter begrudgingly listened to you talk earlier in the day. You were still in your room by yourself so he went in and knocked on your door to see what was happening.

“Hey dingus. When are your dumb friends getting here? I need to know when I should jam my ears with scissors.” Peter said as he leaned against your doorway. You were sitting on your bed with your knees draw to your chest and your chin resting on top of them as you stared out the window.

“Do that anyway.” You mumbled and didn’t move from your position.

“I’m going to. I can’t listen to you all yap about when Reputation TV is coming all night. And your friend Stacy’s theories are always way off.” He continued. You still didn’t turn to look at him and his smirk dropped when he heard a sniffle. He frowned and took a step into your room.

“Hello? I knew you were dumb but did you forget how to turn your neck or something?” He said to try to make you laugh. You stayed still and he craned his neck to try to see your face.

“Seriously though, when are they coming?”

“They’re not coming.” You said finally in a horse voice.

“Why? What happened? Did they finally realize you’re an annoying brat whose only redeeming quality is access to daddy’s credit card?” Peter teased in another attempt to make you laugh.

“Something like that.” You mumbled. Peter frowned and finally realized that something was actually wrong. He sat down on your bed and reached his hand out.

“Whats going on? Are you okay?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Just go away.” You said sadly and wiped tears from your face. Peter shot a web at a tissue box on your dresser and pulled it over.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.” He said and handed you a tissue. You gave him a skeptical look and he held up one hand in defense while waving the tissue in the other like a white flag. You sighed and took the tissue before wiping your eyes.

“They found out it wasn’t a yacht party or at some fancy restaurant or some elitist club in Tribeca so they all cancelled.“ You said as you nervously ripped the tissue up in your hands.

“They cancelled? Why?”

“Because no one wants to come to my party. They want to come to a Stark Industries party with puppies in the gift bags and acrobats suspended from the ceiling and Avengers walking around like party clowns. Just hanging out with me wasn’t cool enough so they all bailed.” You sniffled and turned back to look out the window. Peter raised his hand to place it on your shoulder but then drew it back. He didn’t know if he was who you’d want to comfort you and he didn’t want to push it.

“I’m sorry.” He said instead.

“Like you care.” You laughed sadly and held your knees tighter to your chest.

“I do care.” He insisted. “And I’m very sorry this happened to you tonight.”

“No you’re not.” You scoffed. “You’re probably thrilled to see me like this. This is probably the greatest moment of your dumb life.”

“It’s not.” He said quietly. You finally whipped around to look at Peter and he saw the pain in your red eyes.

“It’s not? Look at me, Peter. I’m pathetic. I’m alone on my birthday because I wasn’t good enough for anyone to hang out with.” You exclaimed. Peter went quiet as you slowly caught your breath. You teased each other all the time but you’d never actually yelled at him before. You wiped your eyes with the tissue before staring at your hands.

“You were right.” You said quietly. “I am just a spoiled brat who people only like because of my connections. And I’m sure you’re anxiously waiting for me to shut up so you can say “I told you so” and prove to me once again that I’m always wrong.”

You and Peter sat in silence for a minute without looking at each other. Peter felt guilty that you were expecting him to kick you while you were down. You were feeling your own guilt for snapping at him when he was trying to be nice.

“I’m not gonna say that.” He said after a beat.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Just go away.” You said miserably and turned back to the window. Peter opened his mouth to say something but shut it when he couldn’t find the words. He patted your shoulder twice before getting up and leaving your room. You turned to look at the door once he was gone and felt yourself missing his presence. You turned back to the window and stared out at the night sky through your teary eyes and let time pass.

After a while, you started to smell something. You sniffed the air until you recognized it as the scent of a something burning. Out of sheer curiosity, you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and padded into the kitchen. You found Peter in the kitchen with a lace trimmed pink apron tied around his waist and flour smeared on his cheek. You smiled in surprise and leaned against the wall to watch him for a minute. He was humming to himself a song you didn’t recognize while scrapping a burnt black lump of something into the trash can. When he finally turned around, he jumped when he saw you.

“Jesus. You scared me. But I guess I should’ve known the smell of something baking would have your big back running to the kitchen like I hit the bat signal.”

“Shut up.” You chuckled. “What are you doing in here?”

“Well, your parents went to a movie since they thought your friends would be here. That means no ones home.” Peter began.

“And?” You asked.

“And so I thought we could fulfill a lifelong fantasy of mine and making sweet love to you on the kitchen counter.” He smiled suavely and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” Your jaw dropped as he drummed his fingertips on the counter.

“I’m joking. I’m clearly baking a bake. Or, I tried. I guess 500 degrees was too hot.” He said and looked at the burnt cake in the trash.

“Yeah, that’s a few hundred above what it should be. But why are you baking? We have a chef for that.”

“Because it’s your birthday you miserable bitch. And everyone deserves a cake baked with love. Now do you prefer chocolate or vanilla frosting on your burnt cake?” He asked and held up two cans of frosting. You looked between the two before your eyes settled on him. You hugged your blanket tighter around yourself and shook your head.

“I don’t want your pity.” You said quietly.

“You don’t have it so shut up and grab a spatula before I rescind your choice in the matter and funfetti the fuck out of this cake.” He replied and held out a spatula. You stared at it and felt compelled to take it and join him, but you were still throwing yourself a pity party.

“No.”

“No? Look, I’m trying to cheer your dumb ass up so can you please work with me here?” Peter sighed and looked at you. You stared at him for a while before cracking the slightest smile. He noticed the smile and knew he had succeeded in his plan to cheer you up.

“Fine. But I’m not eating that. That’s what Santa puts in the bad kids stockings. We’ll make a new one. But I’m not touching raw eggs.” You told him and grabbed your dad’s matching pink apron from the drawer.

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Princess.” Peter mumbled under his breath. You glared at him through your lashes as you threw some flour and sugar into a bowl. Peter went to put the butter in but you pushed his hand away.

“It can’t be cold butter or it won’t mix properly. It has to be room temperature.” You explained as you filled a measuring cup with water.

“Oh. Let’s pop it in the microwave then.”

“We can’t do that either. Then the hot butter will scramble the eggs. Do you want little egg bits in your cake?” You asked him as you microwaved the cup of water for a minute.

“Maybe just a little.” Peter replied as he watched you put the butter into a small bowl and then place the bowl on top of the microwaved water.

“There. This will soften the butter without making it hot enough to scramble the eggs.” You explained. He looked between your little invention and you for a minute before smiling.

“Wow. That was really smart.” He said genuinely. “Women really do belong in the kitchen.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes as you set the temperature to the correct heat on the oven. Peter couldn’t help but watch you over his shoulder as you combined the rest of the dry ingredients and expertly cracked an egg in one hand. He rarely got to see you like this, no makeup and in lounge clothes. And he definitely never saw you upset before. He was used to the perfectly groomed and standoffish version of yourself so this change of pace brought him unexpected joy.

“Move over. That’s not how you mix batter. You need to fold it.” You told him and reminded him of the you he knew. You bumped him with your hip and put your hands over his to help him fold the batter.

“Like laundry?” He asked as his cheeks heated up.

“Like you know what laundry is, Pigpen. And no. A different folding. Like this.” You said and helped him mix the batter until it was the desired consistency.

“Oh wow. That worked really well. I usually just go sicko mode until it turns into goop.” He confessed.

“And how does that work out for you?” You asked him.

“Look in the trash and you’ll find out.” Peter replied and eyed the burnt cake in the garbage can. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and kept helping him fold the batter. Everytime he tried to stir the batter, you gently corrected his hands to fold it instead.

“Why don’t you just do it?” He asked when he started getting frustrated with himself.

“Because you won’t learn if I do it.” You replied in a softer tone. Peter went quiet since you were being unexpectedly nice to him. You let the batter sit for minute once you were satisfied and then poured in into a cake pan.

“There. Thats gonna take about 30 minutes to bake and then it needs to cool before we frost it.” You told him as you shut the oven door.

“Oh, so we have 30 minutes? Then circling back to that making love on the counter idea-“

“Shut it.” You warned him. Peter pretended to zipper his lips and throw away the key. You cracked a smile before starting to clean up the kitchen. Peter wordlessly helped you tidy up and you exchanged a soft smile with each other in the silence of the kitchen.

“What was your worst birthday?” You asked after a long beat of silence.

“Are you talking to me?” Peter asked after looking around.

“Peter, we’re the only ones in the room.”

“Sorry. It’s not like you’ve ever asked me a personal question before. It’s usually “are you stupid?” or “can you go away?” or “do you need a tampon cry baby?” He recalled, making you feel bad for always being so mean to him.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” You said quietly. “I sound a lot meaner than I thought I was.”

“I’m mean too.” Peter shrugged.

“You tease me.” You shook your head. “I’m just cruel.”

“I think we are an equal amount of mean to each other. Don’t let it keep you up at night. I’m sure your chronic yeast infections do that enough.” Peter tried to lighten the mood, but you didn’t crack a smile. You seemed faraway in thought and he was curious as to why.

“Do you think I’m hard to be around?” You asked after a minute. Peter was about to crack another joke until he saw the look on your face. He could tell you needed a friend right now and was filled with determination to be one.

“No. I think those girls you called your “friends” are hard to be around.” He said seriously. “I’ve seen you with them. They’re the mean ones. Them bailing tonight has nothing to do with you. They’re a bunch of shallow jerks who only care about the material things in life. They don’t care about having deep connections with people. They only care about deep pockets on people. I know this isn’t the first time they’ve ditched you. And I know you feel alone even when they are here because you’re never fully included. You think no one notices because you tell stories about your charming adventures together but I see it in your eyes. They make you feel like an afterthought. You act tough and pretend it doesn’t bother you but I know that it does. You shouldn’t hang out with them anymore.”

“Then who am I going to hang out with?” You shrugged sadly. “Without them, I don’t have any friends.”

“Sitting alone is better than sitting at a table where you’re the topic of conversation when you get up.” Peter said simply. You stared at him for a moment before your eyes fell to the floor.

“I just don’t want to be alone.” You said quietly. Peter nodded his head in understanding and let a silence fall between the two of for a while. He was going to say that you wouldn’t be alone because you’d have him, but he didn’t know if you wanted to hear that.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked.

“No.” You said immediately. You made eye contact and you let out a sigh.

“Okay. Go ahead.”

“Why don’t you like me?” He asked without looking into our eyes. You saw that coming and stared at him to try and get a sense of what was going on in his head. He slowly looked back up at you and gave you a weak smile.

“Do you remember that time the power went out in the city due to that Max guy or whatever and we all lit candles and hung out in the tower?”

“Uh oh.” Peter gulped. “You answered my question with another question. That can’t be good.”

“Shut up. Do you remember or not?” You asked and gently kicked his foot with your foot.

“I remember that.” He told you and held your gaze.

“You were new around here. You had just gotten your powers that year so I didn’t really know you yet. I had gone to look for more candles and found you crying on the floor of the linen closet.

“I remember that.” He nodded. “It was all so overwhelming to be here with the whole team. I had never felt so small.”

“I know. I told you I felt like that too sometimes. And then we stayed up for hours talking about every stupid thing we ever worried about and gave each other advice. I think at one point I gave you advice on how much conditioner to use.” You said as you replayed the night in your memory. You had a look on your face that Peter had never seen on you before. It was natural and relaxed and playful, all things he knew to be the opposite of you. It was so rare that the two of you were getting along and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin in.

“A dime sized amount and not on the roots. I still use that advice.” He chuckled. “You were so nice to me that night. You came in and pretended I wasn’t crying so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed. You just sat down with me and started talking ad if we’d always been friends. You quieted all my fears that night. I was initially so embarrassed about it but then I felt a lot better knowing someone had my back no matter how bad I messed up.”

“I always had your back.” You insisted. “Even when I was mean to you. If you were in trouble with my dad, I was always here talking him down and trying to get him to see your side. He sees you through the lense of his child that he doesn’t want hurt but I’ve always seen you as a hero who wants to help. I even got him to give you the suit back when you were 15. And it was my idea to put the warmers in because you told me you’re always cold.”

“Really? You were rooting for me this whole time?” He cracked a smile in surprise.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “Always.”

“Then how come you act like…” Peter trailed off in fear of insulting you.

“Like what?” You asked, sounding like you already knew what was coming.

“Like you hate me.” He admitted. You felt your face burn in embarrassment and shook your head.

“I don’t hate you.” You said sheepishly.

“You don’t?” He asked in genuine surprise. You looked at him and he could see the guilt in your eyes even in the dim light of the kitchen.

“No. I don’t. I never did.”

“Then how come we don’t get along anymore?” He asked. He had only gone along with all the teasing since you began it, but he had always wondered why it started.

“One of the things we had talked about that night was how my one regret about being homeschooled was never getting to experience a prom. I told you had dreamed of it since I was a little girl and it broke my heart to know I’d never have one. So then you said…” You trailed off, thinking he’d remember what he told you. His face showed no sign of remembering it but he racked his brain anyway.

“I said what?” He asked, breaking your heart just a little more.

“You promised to take me. To yours.” You told him. You and Peter stood in silence for a moment before he burst out laughing. Your sadness immediately hardened into anger at the sound of him laughing at you.

“Wait, you’ve been pissy towards me for the last few years because I broke a promise I made at 15 years old and didn’t take you to a stupid school dance?” Peter asked through a laugh. You glared at him for his reaction and he immediately stopped when he noticed you weren’t laughing too.

“Oh. We’re not laughing?” He asked.

“Why is that funny to you?” You snapped. Peter saw the moment slipping away from him and started to panic.

“Well I was- I was a kid.” He said simply. “I had a huge crush on this girl Liz and we were finally becoming friends so I asked her and she said yes. That was years after I promised you that. I’m sorry but I didn’t remember.”

Peter thought you were going to yell at him and hurl a parade of insults his way, but you just nodded your head and looked down at the ground.

“You’re right. We were just kids. Forget I said anything.” You mumbled and started walking towards the door to leave. Peter knew he had messed up big time and possibly just killed any and all chances of the two of you becoming friends.

“Wait.” He said desperately just as the kitchen timer went off. You stopped walking and watched him haphazardly take the cake out of the oven and throw it in the stove top as he blew on it.

“You should stay. We have to frost it.” He said with a weak smile and an even weaker attempt for you for stay.

“You can’t frost it while it’s hot. It’ll slip right off.” You said without looking at him.

“Oh. I didn’t know that. Well then do you want to talk some more or-“

“I have to go.” You cut him off and swiftly left the kitchen.

You went back to your room to resume the pouting you had started earlier. You felt guilty about walking out on Peter but it had hurt you to know that a promise that had meant a lot to you didn’t even stay in his memory. You stared out the window and sulked as you thought yourself into a deep rut. It didn’t take long for Peter to start making noise in the kitchen, interrupting your thought spiral. You heard things falling out of cabinets followed by Peter swearing. He bumbled around for a while and slowly drove you crazy with all the noise he was making until you couldn’t take it anymore. Just when you were about to text him and tell him the knock it off, you heard the dulcet sounds of “The Dancing Queen” coming from downstairs. You groaned in frustration and got out of bed to go downstairs and see what was happening.

When you got to the living room, Peter was standing there in one of your dad’s suits that hugged him a little too tightly around his muscles. The room looked like it had been decorated by a child with poorly hung streamers, ripped up construction paper to act as confetti, and bunches of webs that Peter had tried to shape into stars and moons. He had dimmed the lights and put a single bowl of chips on the counter, which he proudly stood beside.

“What the hell is this?” You asked him.

“Will you go to prom with me?” He asked with a huge smile.

“No.” You said immediately. “Please kill yourself.”

“I will.” He promised. “After one dance.”

“I’m not dancing with you. I’m not doing any of this.” You told him and turned to leave. You heard a “pst” right before feeling a web hit your back. Before you knew it, Peter tugged on the web and sent you stumbling back into Peter’s arms. He caught you with ease and winked when you landed in his arms. You rolled your eyes at him but felt a smile tugged at your lips.

“Please? Just one dance? Then I’ll let you go and hate me for the rest of your life.” He pleaded as he stared into your eyes. He looked so desperate that you found yourself nodding before you knew what you were agreeing to. He smiled in excitement and twirled you around before slowly swaying to the beat. You begrudgingly sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck while his stayed in a respectable place on your hips. You could feel his eyes on you but you kept yours on the ceiling.

“You can look at me, you know.” He teased, making you begrudgingly look him in the eyes.

“Oh. I almost forgot.” He smiled and pulled something out of his pocket. You looked down and saw a few poorly drawn flowers webbed to a rubber band.

“Your corsage, my lady.” He said as he slipped it onto your wrist.

“This is so stupid.” You laughed but secretly loved the thought he put into everything.

“It’s about to get even more stupid. Wait here.” He asked and quickly ran into the kitchen. He returned with one of Morgan’s plastic tiaras with a big fake gem in the center.

“Every prom needs its queen.” He said as he placed the crown on your head. You made eye contact as he stepped forward to adjust it and you felt your breath catch in your throat from how close he was.

“You didn’t have to do this.” You said quietly.

“Yes I did. I owed you a prom experience. I’m sorry I didn’t take you the first time. And I’m sorry for laughing at you. You just caught me off guard. I have spent many nights thinking of all the things I could have done to make you hate me. I genuinely forgot about that promise. I had no idea this entire time that you hated me because of prom.” He said as the two of you started swaying to the music again. You felt a feeling rise up in your chest, a feeling you hadn’t felt for Peter in many years.

“It wasn’t just the prom.” You admitted before you could think about it.

“It wasn’t? What else did I do? Did I hotbox the elevator with you in it or something?” He asked. “I did that to Wanda once and now she’ll show up in my dreams sometimes and make me pee the bed.”

“That’s disgusting.” You said flatly. “But no. It wasn’t that.”

“Then what?” He wondered.

“It’s stupid. You’ll just laugh again.”

“No I won’t.” He assured you. “Probably. I’ll definitely try really hard not to.

“Come on. Please tell me.” He pleaded and gave your hip a gentle squeeze. “You have to tell me now or I’ll become so annoying so quickly. I’ll be worse than those people who try to describe SNL skits to you and keep explaining even when it’s clearly only funny if you’re watching it.”

“I can’t tell you. It’s dumb anyway. Forget I said anything.” You said and hoped he’d drop it.

“It can’t be that dumb if it stood between us all these years. What, did you have a crush on me or something?” He laughed through his question. You went quiet and Peters eyes went wide.

“Oh shit. Did you have a crush on me?” He asked in a soft voice. You looked down at the ground to avoid having to look him in the eyes now that you were caught.

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “You were my age and had these cool powers and muscles and unexpected sense of humor. I was homeschooled and had swiped to the end of Tinder. You were my only option.”

“Oh. I see. So you only liked me because I was the only choice?” He said through a laugh but it hurt him. You could sense in his voice that you had just hurt his feelings and for once, that wasn’t what you wanted.

“I mean, not the only choice.” You added. “Cap used to hang around a lot more and he’s not the worst looking. But he’s like 500 so I never really had a chance.”

“Why me, then?” He wondered. You finally looked in to his eyes and shrugged a little.

“Because you were kind.” You admitted. “You didn’t need to take on as much as what you did at such a young age but you refused to do the easy stuff. You used to drive my dad crazy with how for you begged for assignments. You were so determined to get out there and save people, it was almost obnoxious. You were never content getting back stolen bikes. You always wanted to protect people from the big things. Even when you were just a kid. I liked that about you. I still do.”

“Still?” He gulped. “Even now?”

Before you could respond, the slow music that was playing ended and “Munch” started to blast from Peter phone. He scrambled to change the song but the moment had already been ruined.

“Sorry about that. I don’t know who put that on my playlist.” He quickly lied.

“It was you.”

“It was me, yeah.” He admitted and hung his head in shame. You stopped dancing and slowly withdrew your arms from him, making his heart sink.

“This was really sweet. Thank you, Peter.” You said genuinely. “I should probably get to bed now. I just want this day to end.”

“But we haven’t frosted the cake yet. It’s still your birthday. You can’t go to bed without any cake.” He said in a desperate attempt to get you to stay.

“I don’t know. It’s late.”

“Come on. It’ll be fast. That’s one of my powers. Spider can frost cake really fast and so can I.” He said and rushed over to the cake. He held it up and gave you a lopsided smile, convincing you to stay.

“Fine. Let’s make it fast.” You agreed and walked over to him. He smiled at you joining him and got out the frosting. He handed you a spatula and you started to frost the cake.

“You don’t have to keep wearing that if you don’t want.” Peter chuckled and went to take your crown off. You quickly swatted his hand and adjusted your crown.

“Back off. It’s mine.” You said and stepped away from him. He chuckled again and you laughed too.

“I really do appreciate everything you did for me tonight. I hope I can make it up to you one day.” You told him.

“You can make it up to me right now if we clear off this counter top and-“

“No.” You cut him off.

“Worth a try.” He mumbled.

“Really, though. You cheered me up tonight and I didn’t think that was possible.”

“In a way, I’m glad your stupid friends cancelled on you. It gave us an opportunity to spend time together. And this was the least I could do for not taking you to my real prom. Which was total buns, by the way. I missed most of it because I was putting my dates dad in jail.”

“Well I’m glad that didn’t happen tonight.” You laughed softly.

“Me either. I wish I took you to the first one. We could have been friends this whole time if I had just remembered my promise.” He sighed.

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago. I’m done moping about it. I’m ready to eat this cake and be friends from now on.”

“I’m ready for that too.” He smiled at you. “Especially the part about us being friends. But also for this cake because it’s kinda giving me a boner from how good it smells.”

“It does smell really good. I can’t even blame your boner. But if that thing even looks at me you’re getting impromptu gender reassignment surgery with this spatula.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled and looked over at you. He didn’t stop looking at you until you felt his eyes on you.

“What?” You laughed shyly.

“I can’t believe you ever liked me. And that this whole time, I had no idea. I am so not cool enough for a girl like you to like.”

“Yeah, well. It wasn’t like I dropped any hints.”

“Maybe not. It just doesn’t feel real. I wouldn’t believe it even if you weren’t always mean to me. You reciprocating my feelings was not something I ever thought would happen.”

“Reciprocating? You liked me too?” You asked as your mouth went dry.

“Are you kidding? You’re my mentors insanely hot and totally off limits daughter. Of course I liked you. Not to mention you’re funny, smart, good with a screwdriver and the apparently my biggest supporter. Though you did it in secret. Make no mistake, birthday girl. I had the biggest crush on you for years. Even when you were being mean to me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You said quietly. You had your back to him as you washed your hands but you could feel his eyes on you. You peaked over your shoulder and sure enough, Peter’s eyes were locked on you. You gulped and turned back around when you heard him walking over to you.

“You know, as mean as your insults were, they were always clever. And you always looked good saying them. How could I not fall for you?” He said as he came up behind you. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne, along with a scent that was just distinctly Peter, making your heart pound in your ears. You turned around and leaned against the counter as you looked into his eyes.

“Well how do you feel now?” You asked with unwavering eye contact.

“I feel like those feelings never left.” He admitted. You had never heard such confidence in his voice and it was just the thing to tip the scales back in his favor.

“Hm. Interesting.” You shrugged and turned back around. It was almost like you could hear the disappointment in the air once you had your back to him again. You decided not to torture him forever and give in to what you both wanted.

“Peter?” You asked and looked over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah?”

“Clear the countertop.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @itsemohours

@tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[mcgnussen]

How are you taking the news about Kevin?

It hit me like a ton of bricks, even if it is not a big surprise it still hits.

Especially because I will most likely never see him irl in F1.

i have avoided talking about this because i wanted to write a long post about it, but the more i think about it, the more i feel like it's the right time for him to say goodbye to f1. so I'll keep it short and sweet, and use matt bishop's words about k-mag.

among the many drivers with whom i have worked in my long f1 career, magnussen is without doubt the most passionately besotted with racing for racing’s sake. moreover, having tried my best to cheer him up in what was for him an annus horribilis, 2015, when he was bored and frustrated in the role of mclaren’s f1 reserve driver, i fervently hope that he does not agree to take on the kind of quasi-managerial role to which komatsu has apparently alluded. let’s be blunt. kevin is an old-school racer. as i say, his racing hero is stirling moss, who retired 30 years before he was born. many times, over a coffee or a beer, i have held his rapt attention by reeling off the stories i know so well and love so much, about antonio ascari, tazio nuvolari, achille varzi, bernd rosemeyer, rudolf caracciola, b bira, alberto ascari, juan manuel fangio, stirling moss, jim clark, graham hill, jackie stewart, jochen rindt, ronnie peterson, james hunt, carlos reutemann, mario andretti, gilles villeneuve, ayrton senna, michael schumacher, mika hakkinen, and many more. he absolutely loves all that. by contrast the only aspect of 21st-century f1 that he genuinely enjoys is the bit in the cockpit, even though he has raced a podium-worthy f1 car only once, in his first ever grand prix, since when he has started 175 more, the highlights being four fifth places.

k-mag is a racing driver, not just a f1 driver. i'm tired of seeing him struggle in a car that can sometimes make it to the points, while he sacrifices so much time with his girls. i want him to retire from f1, and go dominate in another racing series that allows him more freedom to be at home as well. i don't want him to take on an advisor role, at least not if that keeps him from racing.

kevin made his f1 debut 10 years ago, and he has a podium and a pole, despite being in a backmarker car for most of his f1 career. while i will miss him during the f1 weekends, i'd be happy to cheer for him wherever he goes next. he will always be a racing driver before he's a f1 driver.

[hwanchaesong]

Idyllic (Mutual Pining) Preview

pairing: Jake X F!Reader

synopsis: He conceals his presence well and you are a good secret keeper. A combination that ends up in a museum of doubts and hesitance. Then again, a game of hide and seek never hurt anyone, right?

word count: tba

genre & warnings: angst, smut, fluff, warnings tba

a/n: this is a teaser for the upcoming Enhypen: Tropes & Parallels series that i've been working on. i hope y'all look forward to it. please don't hesitate to tell me if you wanted to be added to the taglist. tysm 🩷

You tried to hold your tears back, keen on not showing any signs of weakness, not on a special day like this.

It's your birthday, for fucks sake!

The day you were born, the day you graced the earth with your presence. It's a day where you're supposed to feel like you're the only girl in the world.

So why the fuck are you outside, in the garden of the party hall that your friends went through the trouble of renting? Why the fuck are you sitting on a grass while wearing your prettiest dress, weeping like a child?

"Y/N? Why did you leave the party?"

Ah, there's the reason.

Sim fucking Jaeyun, better known as Jake.

"No reason," you tried to stabilize your voice, key word: tried, "just needed some fresh air."

Jake squinted his eyes at your slumped figure, he'd be lying if he says that he believes that pathetic excuse of a lie that you told him. He'd be kidding himself if he says that he wasn't able to read your body language, clearly, something is bothering you.

"Tell me." he declares, walking closer to you and that turned on a switch in you, panicking on what you should say because he can't see you like this.

He's not supposed to see you in such a sorry state, sporting Rudolf's red nose when it's months away from Christmas. Fat, ugly tears pooling in your eyes and your mascara must be ruined by now. He's not supposed to see you being this down bad for him, to the point that you're willing to bawl your eyes out in a place like this.

"Don't come near me! Please, leave me alone." you accidentally yelled at him, wrapping your arms around yourself and totally losing it. You hid your face on your arms, sobbing quietly, not having it in you to continue bearing the pain of having the love of your life be the loss of your life in one night.

It was your fault. Everything was your fault.

You didn't confess to him when you had the chance. You let him meet new girls, you supported him when he said that he wanted to talk with the girl that was recently transferred in your class.

It was your fault for being a mess, for being a coward. It was your fault for settling in the title of being friends.

The times when you shared secret glances across the room, the touches that were far too long to be considered platonic but never really given the meaning that they deserve, the sweet nothings that you whisper to each other after a long, tiring day.

You were the culprit behind the heist, so really, you shouldn't act like the victim. It's unfair for him.

You deserve this, to be left alone, wallowing in self-pity and cursing yourself repeatedly until you couldn't breathe anymore.

As your castle crumbled, you felt warm arms around you, the familiar figure dropping to his knees, pulling you onto his sturdy body, fingers soothing through your tangled strands.

"Jake?" you whispered his name, hoping that it was him. Wishing that he didn't really leave you, that it's him holding you, comforting you through this situation that you've put yourself in.

He hummed, his answer making your heart explode into the most colorful shades of fireworks.

"I'll be the biggest asshole if I leave the girl I have prayed for all my life here, crying during the day that she was given to me by the gods."

taglist

@lilyuwon @ramenoil

[gojoevers]

UMINEKO??!!

so, I’ve just finished episode 1 of Umineko and the first tea party. I am probably even more confused than I was when I first started - I refuse to put up on reddit my thoughts because it seems everyone posts the same thing when they get this far so under the cut is my initial thoughts, questions and feelings on Umineko episode 1!! I’m hoping I don't make this too long, but I have SO MUCH I need to get out. Please do not read below the cut if you have not finished at least episode one as the post contains spoilers!

so, I’m gonna start with the characters. I absolutely love, love, LOVE this cast.

battler? love of my entire life. he was a character made to fit in my specific niche and I NEED to put him in my mouth. Jessica? my sweet, lovely girl who only deserves the best. maria? I will NOT take maria slander. she's just a kid and I was just like her when I was 9. minus the freaky laughing and like ominous-ness. George? I knew from the second I saw him that he'd be my lawfully wedded wife. enough said.

the parents, I’m a bit more swayed to dislike them, but at the same time, I don’t. I can't really explain my feelings for the parents. I do really like Natsuhi. She deserved more respect, and her conversation with Kinzo when she went to his study was a scene I really enjoyed. Krauss is ugly and he has no right to act the way he does idk he ANNOYED me. Rudolf and Kyrie? Loves of my life, despite what battler expresses about his father, I really like whatever dynamic they have going on, it's entertaining. and Kyrie is just wonderful. Eva, smash, next question. (I love my women MEAN and awful.) Hideyoshi, another sweetheart, like how he will stand up to his wife and take her side and is just a cool guy. also love my delusional king Kinzo. like I said, the scene with Natsuhi was emotional to me, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, it changed my opinion on him for sure. Who’s next? servants? Kumasawa is annoying, I’m sorry. I like how she's held incredibly special to the family, but she'd just not up on my list of faves. same with Ghoda. something about him I just don't like. he's off. Shannon, Kanon, and Genji however, I ADORE them. despite the circumstances, I did like the way we saw Kanon change throughout the chapter, but I didn't really pay much attention to him.

I sobbed like a BABY when George proposed to Shannon, when she was one of the ones said to have gone missing AND when she was found with the ring on her engagement finger. I was distraught - my life was genuinely over. the scene between them was so tender and sweet, and as I’d grown to really like both, it really broke my heart watching him discover her and ask about the ring. like I’m talking crying so hard I wanted to throw up. I could come up with something more constructive about each character we are introduced to but I think I'll leave that for another post.

Now, the actual events we see are a different story. Because what the actual fuck happened. I have no idea. 17 hours of my life and I came out of the tea party with more questions than I started with. What do u mean they all got FUCKED UP at the end and maria wrote a letter asking for someone to find the truth like what the FUCK SHE WAS THERE WHY ARE YOU PISSING ME OFF. I loved the story either way, I went into it expecting a murder mystery with Beatrice as the culprit, but what I got was a mass murder spree mystery with no visuals of Beatrice and probably my favourite ending for a chapter/episode 1.

I think the tea party confused me even more, because it was framed as an OOC, behind-the-scenes bit but... It wasn't? And all the kids are there, Shannon and George have a tender moment but by the end when Beatrice appears and challenges Battler as well as flirts with him (obsessed w her btw), I was just a bit confused? This was our intro to Beatrice? It made no sense to me but I suppose if you view the tea party as simply a continuation/after-story, it checks out. Like the tea party is some purgatory they're in? I still need to watch "???" which I assume is the witches tea party from the point 5 seconds I saw before I passed out.

Overall I think Umineko is the most fun I have ever had reading a Visual Novel. The music is delicious, it has a genuinely amazing cast and story. I am so, so excited to read Episode 2, and hopefully compile my thoughts a little better.

[systemic-chaos]

Anyyyy hc of esterman/franco? I lovr ur hcs btw!!

I apologize for making you wait so long!! The hyperfixation train answers to no man. This turned out a little more NSFW than I expected, probably cuz of all the creative energy I've been using for my horror erotica novel, so it's going under the cut lmao

-Easterman would NOT be the top. He's a cringefail babygirl to me. Franco probably loves sticking Lupara down his throat. Makes Franco feel powerful/masculine.

-At the same time, I can also imagine Franco liking to call Easterman his daddy. Franco's romantic, sexual, and familial feelings are already so wrapped up into a tangled nightmare that Sigmund Freud would name three new complexes after him, so I think the idea of Franco giving Easterman the role of a father in his mind while still being dominant in the relationship isn't shocking at all

-Two words. Gun. Play. Hendrick 'If you take the gun away, you are castrating him, his father, and his grandfather all at once' Easterman definitely has ulterior motives for letting Franco keep his gun.

-Also, I feel like Easterman probably moans out Rudolf Wernicke's name during sex. Easterman has at least a one sided crush on Wernicke, if they don't also fuck on the side. Franco has threated to shoot him for doing this multiple times.

-Adding on to the previous point, Franco is both clingy and HORRIBLY jealous. Is Easterman spending time doing literally anything else, including his actual job? Franco is throwing a fit. Franco wants Easterman's total and undivided attention at all times and will cry, fight, or kill in order to get it.

-In turn, Franco get SPOILED by Easterman. Franco is HIS baby boy, why wouldn't he want him to get all the benefits he could give him? Easterman plays favorites, and Franco's weird and offputting charisma makes him an easy favorite for him.

-Franco gets very excited whenever he gets to spend time with Easterman. In his mind, Easterman is kind of the mob boss of Sinyala, similar to Franco's own father. But Easterman makes time for him, considered his feelings, and submits for him. He's the opposite of Franco's abusive father in nearly every way Franco could dream of!

-Franco can and will brag about his relationship to anyone who would listen. Leland isn't sure if he's jealous or disgusted. Mother Gooseberry is proud of him. Though I'm pretty sure that Dr. Futterman is homophobic.

That's all I got right now, thank you so much for the ask!! I love writing these things when I'm not in the throws of Mental Illness lol

[batbeato]

My partner keeps telling me to go on Tumblr whenever I launch one of my 20-10000 minute ramble-rants about Umineko at them so here I am AGAIN

Something that a lot of people love about Umineko (and I do too!) is how much Umineko centers its female characters: Umineko focuses a lot on the rich inner lives and emotions of these women, all of whom have been negatively impacted by ideals of submissive feminism and the needs of the patriarchy.

In general, in Umineko, there's this phenomenon that I don't often see elsewhere, where male characters' emotions and feelings are treated as less important, less interesting, etc. than female characters' are. This is interesting to me, and I think it makes sense - in many spaces and works, female characters are treated as caricatures - they are tragic dead mothers, loving wives, sexy girlbosses who secretly have a soft spot for the protagonist, etc. It's only par for the course that in a work where female characters are so celebrated and explored, it is male characters who suffer the fate of being reduced to more base qualities and have their feelings and emotions brushed off or waved over.

Umineko takes the concept of the absent dead wife, mother, lover and turns them into these complex, unknown ghosts who haunt the story: Kinzo's wife, Bice, Kuwatrice, Asumu. These are all female characters central to various plot points and aspects of the story, including thematic ones, but these women are very rarely, if at all, given space to truly express their inner thoughts. This is in contrast to the Ushiromiya women (Eva, Kyrie, Rosa, Natsuhi) who are so often able to express their innermost thoughts in these long, emotional sequences. Umineko doesn't allow space for these women to be caricatures, but instead seems to make space for them to be characters we simply don't have enough information on.

I think Asumu is the best example of this: she is a character with very little actual voice in the main story. Rudolf theorizes that she knew about Battler's true parentage and raised him with love regardless, but also worries that her death was due to his lies and infidelity. Her cause of death is never revealed. Kyrie talks about Asumu as a smart woman who played dumb and innocent to steal Rudolf from her, and there is the distinct concept that if Asumu hadn't died of Cause X, Kyrie would have killed her soon after. Battler sees Asumu as an uncomplicated, loving mother. And then, when Ryukishi released Last Note, we saw this different side of Asumu - an arrogant, jealous woman who took pride in her skill at puzzles and believed that she could have saved everyone, but also still a loving mother who loves her son, and even accepts her son's half-sister, Ange, in the end. Never a caricature, always cast in shadow, but with depths beneath.

But back to what I mentioned before - male characters being treated as those flanderized, flatter caricatures, with their feelings brushed off. It's very interesting to me, because it's not even just a case of male characters simply not having the screentime - they do. Battler and Kinzo get the most of it, but George also receives plenty of discussion as well.

Battler and George, however, are the male characters who I see the most flanderization of. Battler is a pathetic crying malewife twink bottom. George is a child predator who grooms Shannon.

George is a man who was raised by a hovering, overprotective mother with ridiculous expectations of him. She made him study every day and tried to instill values befitting of the power and status she hoped he would someday have into him. However, he saw how Battler, who was meant to be 'inferior' to him, getting along better with girls - even the one he liked - and grew jealous. His relationship with Shannon began because of this, but it also helped him to understand his own flaws, and he tried to change himself. Coming from a place of privilege, this is a difficult task. He also truly loved Shannon, even though he sometimes had a patronizing view of her due to his own instilled biases, and was even willing to go against his family for her. He isn't a perfect person, but he was attempting to change and grow.

Battler is a man with a deep empathy for others and is overly emotional at times - a trait I think is unfairly made fun of, given how men showing emotion is often portrayed as unmasculine, feminine, and shameful. He has a strong sense of right and wrong, and though clumsy and foolish at times, does his best to help others. He was raised by his grandparents for 6 years, so he is somewhat divorced from the privilege he now once again holds as a member of the Ushiromiya family, and makes mistakes because of that. He makes a lot of sexual jokes, but it's implied that this is due to being socially awkward after reuniting with the family he hasn't seen in six years. It's very difficult for him to truly despise someone, but once his trust is broken, even if he still loves them, it can be very hard to earn that trust back.

...I don't think the fandom needs to focus more on the male characters, per say. No one should be told they need to focus more on X than Y because enjoying X is more ethical, progressive, fair, etc. etc. But I would like to see people at least acknowledging the complexity of the male characters in Umineko more. The malewife Battler jokes are funny, I admit, but I'm tired of the child predator George jokes. Can we please leave people who ship Shannon and George alone? At this point, I'm beginning to worry about if they're alright... seeing a lot of hate for something they love can't be pleasant.

It's a general trend I see - liking a male character means you need to prioritize female characters more. Liking a het ship means you need to make it gay, or appreciate gay ships more. If a bisexual character dates someone of the opposite sex, this is bi erasure or erasing queer representation. But it's alright to like male characters, het ships, bisexual characters in het relationships, and so on. What isn't alright are the biases that are keeping queer media from receiving as much publicity, as much funding. What isn't alright are the biases that give male characters much more complex writing than female characters in many pieces of media. We as consumers can examine these things in the production and text of the works we enjoy, but I think there is too much focus on this ethical consumption of media.

...And that's how we end up making child predator George jokes - to reconcile the existence of a flawed, nuanced male character (who can and should be criticized of course) with the fact that Umineko is such a woman-central media. Umineko needs to be one of the 'good ones', the 'ethical ones'. So the male characters must be reduced to jokes, to one-liners. It is an overcorrection on a fandom level to reconcile with a society level issue, one that can harm fans of those characters and introduce toxicity to a place that should be about sharing love for a small universe we all enjoy.

(Whoops. This is why my partner told me to go on tumblr, huh?)

[dysfunctional-family-fight]

Round One

House Greyjoy (A Song Of Ice And Fire) VS the Ushiromiya family (Umineko When They Cry)

House Greyjoy

Members: Balon, Asha, Theon, Aeron, Victarion, Euron

Propaganda:

CW: rape, murder, sexual abuse

"The ruling family of a culture of toxic masculinity. When Theon arrives after 10 years of being a hostage, he hits on his sister Asha, but it's not really his fault, because she wanted to judge his character and if he respects women (he doesn't), so she didn't tell him who she is. Balon expects both of his children including the daughter to perform toxic masculinity and gets mad at Theon for being far away after he himself handed him over as well for buying jewelry instead stealing it from corpses of people he kills because buying is for wimps, which leads to Theon to capturing a castle he cannot hold, commiting some war crimes and then getting tortured, mutilated and drastically abused for a long period of time. Asha meanwhile had to run because her uncle Euron returned after being banished (for seducing or raping, it was unclear, his brother Victarion's wife which led to Victarion "having" to beat her to death to preserve his honor) won king elections against her. He gave her hand to a seal. There's also her uncle Aeron who is a religious fanatic, but also deep inside running away from his childhood trauma consisting of Euron molesting him."

The Ushiromiya family

Members: Kinzo, Krauss, Eva, Rudolf, Rosa, Jessica, George, Battler, Ange, Maria, Natsuhi, Hideyoshi, Asumu, Kyrie

Propaganda:

"PEAK weird family drama. Fighting over the inheritance leads to multiple people dying in gruesome ways" "The whole plot of the game is that they all are so dysfunctional it would make sense for any of them to commit murder" "The Rokkenjima Mass Murders would not have happened to a functional family" "The parents claw at each others' throats for a vast family inheritance, the kids/cousins fool around, and then they all murder each other/get murdered" More propaganda here

[boba-beom]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ late gifts | C.SB

pairing: idol!soobin x non-idol f!reader

genre: fluff! oneshot

warning(s): lowercase intended, est. relationship, endearment terms (babe, bub, my love, love), light banter (teasing each other cutely), mentions of food, if I've missed anything let me know!

summary: after having a busy schedule with absolutely no free time, you finally surprise your boyfriend with a cute amalgamation of all of his favourite things.

wc: 1.2k

a/n: this is incredibly late, but what’s new ^^’ on behalf of soobin turning 22 (int) and bc I love this man sm, here’s something sweet <3 also ty @fairybinie for beta reading!!

taglist: @bb-eilish @iggynor4 @ericyjun @bluejin0812 @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten  @hyuntaena @day6andetcetera @amethysts-1620 @gorechoi-backup @dainsleif-when-playable @choiwrld @yjusei @feyregels @ahnneyong @potaeto-writes-on-wp @wccycc @tyungun @lizdevorak  @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @fairyoftaehyun @cha0thicpisces @vatterie @yunkiwii @prodsh00ky

your relationship with soobin was reaching it's first milestone, as well as his birthday that had just passed. if there were things you knew about soobin, it was the fact that this man would be grateful for something so simple as long as it was thought out with love and good intentions, that's all that matters to him. but as someone who likes to make the most out of these occasions, you came up with an idea of doing all the things he enjoys over the course of just one day.

it was a shame you weren't able to celebrate his birthday together, but he was in the midst of recording some content for the year-end award shows. despite his busy schedule, you always messaged him on the daily to wish him well with his agendas.

he gave you a date when he'd be free, and conveniently, so were you. with christmas around the corner, it was almost perfect timing to get together again.

“soobin!” you call after the tall, blond figure entering through the front door of your apartment. he kept the spare key with him so he could come over whenever he wanted to come see you — yet it’s been a while since he’s used it.

you're standing by the sofa in the living room and open your arms in his direction, luring him towards you.

"hey cutie, long time no see, huh?" he engulfs you into his warm hug. you let out a hum in agreement, your cheek squished against his chest as you take in the familiar scent of his signature cologne.

as your hands linger down his forearms he slowly intertwines his fingers with yours. "hey, babe?" you coo at him, "close your eyes for me until I tell you to open them, m'kay?"

"whatever it is, just please don't tickle me." he squeaks, his arms spread wide, cautious of your fingers wiggling against his waist as per usual.

his eyes are closed shut with his nose scrunched. it's tempting to take a picture of him like that but you were meaning to find the first gift out of many. you pick up the fairly large christmas bag; the one with rudolf's face and a crimson pom pom on the nose.

the bag's string was laced in your fingers until you grasped onto your boyfriend's wrist, placing the string onto his fingers, causing him to stop moving them around.

"okay, you can open your eyes now." you let out softly.

instead of opening his eyes in one go, he peaks down at the weight; one eye slowly opening and making out what you hung on his fingers. a light gasp fell from his pink-tinted lips, paired with his eyes immediately widening at the sight of the holiday-themed gift bag dangling from his hand.

"oh? but christmas isn't for another week–"

"it's your birthday and christmas gift." you grin, looking up at him.

he doesn't say anything, but raises his brows, cynical about your statement. you know that soobin isn't — and never has been — a fan of singular gifts just because his birthday is the same month as christmas. he doesn't mean to come across as selfish, but he just so happens to have more appreciation to those who consider his birthday and christmas as two separate occasions than one.

"you're a funny one, aren't you?" his arm wraps around your shoulders to pull you close to him.

"wow, I really thought I got you there." you whine at him with your bottom lip protruding. "it's your birthday present, love. go ahead and open it!"

you take a step back, the hind of your calves lightly grazing the edge of the sofa seat, and watch him break the tape from the top. he reaches into the bag and pulls out a fur-lined, khaki beige coat.

"oh! thank you bub," he gasps, "this is going to be my new favourite coat for sure." soobin's dimples dent into his cheeks as soon as he holds it up against his torso.

having your boyfriend as a winter-baby just means you get to gift him a lot of warm clothes, and you're sure he'll be wearing it throughout the whole winter season.

"I have something else for you," you sing-song. his eyes light up from your announcement, wondering what else you have in store.

"do I need to close my eyes again?"

"no, but..." you reach into your purse and hold up two tickets between your fingers.

"you got tickets for the avatar 2 movie!?" after placing down the coat, soobin wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. you wrap your arms around his neck as he giggles into your chest. "you're officially the best girlfriend ever!"

"I wasn't already the best girlfriend ever? guess I should've just asked kai to come see avatar with me." you huff, wiggling your legs for him to put you down, but he wouldn't let go.

"fine, is that how it is? I guess these bebe rhexa tickets will just be for me and kai."

you wiggle a little more with your hands on his shoulders to push away from him but it didn't work.

"wait, really?"

"nono, you were always the best girlfriend, I just wanted you to hear it! and these tickets are for us, I promise!" he winces as he struggles to keep you in his hold.

it didn't take long for you to give up and slump in his arms, waiting for him to put you back down. it was quiet for a couple of seconds until you both maintain eye contact, causing the both of you to break into laughter.

"binnie, I know you got those tickets for us." you nudge his side just to receive a questioning expression taking over his face.

"how?" he cocks his head to the side.

"it doesn't help that you forgot to stop screen share on facetime after you were showing me photos from your camera roll of the behind the scenes from the concerts." he squints hard, trying to remember that exact moment, and sighs once he realises you're right. he purchased the tickets straight after showing you the concert photos, and now it makes sense that you went silent and were looking intensely at your screen.

"well, surprise! I can't believe I'm taking my favourite person to see my other favourite person!" the grin on his face never fails to melt your heart, your boyfriend is too precious and it's coming into realisation that you've missed having him around. you want to make the most out of this day.

you turn on your phone and start typing away, searching for something.

"don't tell me you're about to tell kai that I picked you to come with me to the concert instead of him." you hear the plea in his voice, but you continue searching for something to top off the rest of the evening.

"no, love. though I would do that, I'm looking for bingsu. now, choose the flavour you want." you smile at him, turning the phone in his direction all while he looks at your smile creases by your eyes.

"yeah, I definitely have the best girlfriend ever." he leans over you, laying a kiss on your forehead before choosing his bingsu of choice.

"happy belated birthday, my love."

© boba-beom; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

[mmmfanfiction]

Hi!! Ik your probably stressed bc ur really active XD but I hope you drink some water and get some rest. When you find the time to write could I request a flippy/flipqy x reader Christmas head cannons?

Also if your doing the anon thing could I be -🌹 anon ?

Thats super sweet of you, anon! I hope that you’re getting a bunch of water and rest too! Sorry this came in so late, I started writing but didn’t finish. However I did give myself the deadline of Christmas which helped me actually finish this (finishing things on the deadline gang) anyway, I hope you like it!

warnings: mentions of death, literally nothing else just me imagining Fliqpy being like a lethal house cat-

Flippy

🧸I like to think Christmas is like a sense of nostalgia for Flippy.

🧸Like he’s done it his entire life, so it brings him back to his childhood.

🧸Flippy defo decorates, but not in the overboard, as soon as thanksgiving ends, everything’s lit up kind of way.

🧸More of a chill decorator. Doesn’t go all out but theirs definitely decoration.

🧸However if your one of those big decorators he will definitely help out with some things. Also he won’t let you go on the roof unless your experienced. Even then he’s like hovering below you.

🌹”Babe I’m not gonna fall, you don’t have to follow me wherever I go with that pillow.”

🧸”But I don’t want you to get hurt :(“

🧸I feel like he knows how to make REALLY good hot cocoa

🧸Like, tastes like it’s straight from heaven.

🧸He makes amazing cookies too.

🧸Also crochets cute little Christmas sweaters.

🧸Even makes matching ones.

🧸Flip definitely puts lots of thought into gifts.

🧸Like he will ask everyone you know just to gauge the best thing to get for you.

🧸His wrapping looks really good!….. if you don’t look at the bottom-

🧸Is open to trying new traditions. Like if you have a bit more spice added to your Christmas traditions then he’ll try them out too!

🧸Has like really obscure but also really sweet Christmas movies.

🧸Also old ones, like the stop motion Rudolf the reigndeer. 

🧸Just please don’t let him watch nightmare before Christmas, or at least avoid the one scene where the military starts shooting down Jack. That will not be a good time for either of you, especially not poor Flips.:(

🧸All in all, very warm n cuddly being w/ Flippy on Christmas. 

Fliqpy

🔪Now this little shit-

🔪Idk where that was going I just wanted to call Fliqpy a little shit.

🔪Anyways he’s not used to Christmas.

🔪Would 100% use the lights to strangle someone-

🔪Though he’s really good to have around if you wanna chop your own tree.

🔪The first Christmas he spends with you I don’t imagine him really getting you anything, and also getting flustered when you give him a gift.

🔪Afterwords he starts putting a bit more effort into this whole Christmas thing.

🔪Either a really shitty gift giver or a really great gift giver. No inbetween 

🔪Will fall asleep during Christmas movies.

🔪Unless maybe it doubles as a horror movie. Like idk Black Christmas or smth(I’ve never watched Black Christmas so don’t quote me on that but I really want to but I don’t want my mum to walk in and be like ‘WTF ARE YOU WATCHING!?’ Anyways back on track)

🔪Flippys not used to the domestic vibe of Christmas

🔪However if you also believe in Krampus he might be a liiittttleee bit more into it(long live Krampus)

🔪I imagine he really likes hot cocoa but won’t admit it.

🔪Also thinks Santa’s a creep

🔪”So, let me get this straight. You celebrate a dude BREAKING INTO YOUR HOUSE??”

🌹”…. He gives us gifts-“

🔪Really good at wrapping things to make them look like something they’re not. Like you think you’re opening a doll but it’s actually a pocket knife :)

[delta-pavonis]

Fic: Making the Cut

Dreamling (Hob Gadling/Dream of the Endless) || Rated T || 1k words || complete Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, modern dancing, jealous Dream is best Dream, gratuitous use of Renaissance instruments, might be crack?

Jealousy, for it could only be that, made every muscle in Dream’s Waking body tighten, to the point that he was glad he had the wherewithal to vanish his wineglass before it was crushed to dust in his hand. Lex said something and Hob threw his head back in laughter. As he did so her fingers tangled in the hair at Hob’s nape, pulling strands from his ponytail, and Dream was on his feet and moving forward before he could think better of it.

Because the GIFs in THIS POST have taken over my brain and I was not be able to get any work done until I silenced the voices. Be the Dreamling you want to see in the world.

Fic under the cut. Reblog and tag if you think I should continue. 😜

It took nigh on forty years, the establishment of a trust to fund the project, and an absurd amount of money (mostly paying lawyers), but Hob Gadling had won the rights to restore the White Horse Inn. 

Well, actually, according to the paperwork, Rudolf Gass, grandson of British ex-pat Robert Daglin through his marriage to a German painter named Rosemarie Krause, whose daughter married the glazier Albrecht Gass, now had the rights to restore the White Horse Inn. Dream hadn’t followed the details further than that. 

But, given that it was the White Horse, and all the sentimentality it held for them, Hob had been absolutely adamant that Dream should make an appearance at the party he was holding at the New Inn in celebration. 

And if Dream had been subtly nudging the dreams of some elected officials and government officers over the past seven years since his return from captivity, well, that could be a secret kept between him and the White Horse herself. That the paperwork went through on the 7th of June was merely a coincidence of cosmic proportions. 

Clearly.

Dream hid his private smirk behind a sip of red wine.

The New Inn was alive with revelers, many of them historians and academics, and Dream supposed he should have not been surprised at their propensity for theatrics. A musician with a deep knowledge of Renaissance musical instruments was currently rapidly plucking away at a cittern with the thumping bass of lyricless electronic music coming from the speaker behind him. Another had rushed out of the bar to her bicycle to head back to her office to grab her crumhorn. Hob seemed delighted and that was what mattered.

Other than the barstools, one of which Dream was perched on right now, any of the furniture that was not nailed down had been shoved aside to make a small dancefloor. Hob had barely spent more than a handful of minutes off of it since sundown. 

Said victorious professor tumbled out of the crowd and caught himself on the bar right in front of Dream. Panting, sweating, and glowing with happiness, he signaled the bartender for a pint and moved to retie his hair back from where it had fallen out of the tail at his nape. He canted his hip into the side of the bar to hold himself upright. Hob’s eyes were full of bright mischief as he looked to his longest-held friend and took a swig of ale. “My friend, are you sure I cannot entice you to-”

“Come on Rudi! This is our song!” A tall, slim woman with graying black hair bouncing around her shoulders in locs grabbed Hob’s arm and tugged him back into the fray just as a different song started blaring from the speakers. Her smile was wide and welcoming and she had a startling resemblance to Dream’s older sister, if much more lithe of form. She was sleek as an otter with a glint in her eye twice as clever. She dreamed of writing historical fiction and running long distances and cups of tea on the sun porch with her enormous fluffy orange tabby.

“We don’t have a song, Lex!” Hob just barely got the half-full pint back onto the bartop, laughing as he let himself be pulled away, looking apologetically over his shoulder at his friend left on the barstool. 

They didn’t enter the crowd fully, just joined the edge of the amoeba of humans, which meant that, for the first time that evening, Dream got to see all of Hob dancing instead of just his head and shoulders. 

The pair started with the choreographed moves of a courtly bassadanza, which did not work at all without a large group of others dancing with them, and so, with a trip and a laugh, Lex threw her arms over Hob’s shoulders and pulled their bodies together. It seemed reflex had Hob’s hands on her waist, put a slight bend in his knee, so that he could slide a knee between her thighs and then their pelvises were rocking close together.

Jealousy, for it could only be that, made every muscle in Dream’s Waking body tighten, to the point that he was glad he had the wherewithal to vanish his wineglass before it was crushed to dust in his hand. Lex said something and Hob threw his head back in laughter. As he did so her fingers tangled in the hair at Hob’s nape, pulling strands from his ponytail, and Dream was on his feet and moving forward before he could think better of it.

As he approached his coat dissolved into shadow, leaving him in a tight black t-shirt, tight black jeans, and black boots. Dream tapped Hob on the shoulder, but his gaze was fixed on the woman. “May I cut in?”

It was probably unfair to color his voice with Endless power, with seductive tones inviting complete acquiescence, but, as Hob would say in the current turn of phrase, Dream had no fucks left to give.

Both pairs of dark eyes widened, both turned to Dream as they stepped apart, but only Lex smiled. “Why certainly.” She made a motion to put a hand on Dream’s bicep, but with all the grace of ten billion years he sidestepped in front of her and looped his arms around Hob’s shoulders. 

Their bodies were inches from being flush and Hob’s mouth fell open. He looked down to the scant space between them, then back up. “Dream… what…” A blush was blooming on his cheeks.

“I find that I am loathe to see you with another pressed so close.” Dream spoke in his normal Waking tones, just loud enough for Hob to hear, and arched his hips forward to brush against Hob. The gasp it elicited was delicious nectar, sticky on Dream’s tongue. “It seems that you have indeed enticed me, Hob.” They were near enough that he got to see Hob’s pupils dilate, the rich, welcoming earth of his eyes all but consumed by inky blackness. 

Dream was often himself inky blackness.

He would consume the rest of Hob as well.

[best-habsburg-monarch]

Franz Joseph, Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary, etc. Reigned 1848-1916

Challenge: Talk about his reign without talking about wife a lot (impossible)

from anon:

Dual Monarchy. HELLO.

Constitution! (Italy immediately declared war after but ya know)

Survived assassination attempts

Doesn't lose territory to Prussian unification which is something I guess

Shares 2 names with Hayden

from @minetteskvareninova:

Franz Joseph propaganda (proper):

as much of a poor little meow meow as Joseph II.

also known as Starej Procházka (ask @archduchessofnowhere I promise it's hillarious)

wholesome friendship with Katharina Schratt

was there not for a good time, but a long time certainly, and unlike queen Victoria doesn't even get the dignity of an era named after him!!!

girldad (better not ask about his son)

loved the great god Mars, even though Mars did not love him back, wore uniform all the fucking time, but his actually military record was. well. gotta love a boyfailure.

conservative in principle, but smart enough to know when to fold 'dem (which is why the former monarchy didn't end up like Russia)

from anon:

Anti-Franz Joseph Propaganda: Yes, the sideburns are iconic, but when you are a reigning emperor for 68 years and your signature facial hair is colloquially named after a minor U.S. Civil War general instead, you fumbled the bag.

anti Franz Joseph propaganda: he was an older sibling (derogatory)

from @master-of-the-opera-house:

MARRIED HIS FIRST COUSIN WHEN THEY WERE BEGINNING TO FIGURE OUT THIS HABSBURG INCEST SHIT DON'T WORK

EVEN THO THE POPE SAID NO

Sissi was a babe tho i get him BUT THEN

THEN HE GAVE HER AN STD AND TOOK A MISTRESS

Didn't drink his respect cousin-wife juice apparently

CAUSED CROWN PRINCE RUDOLF TO COMMIT

CLASSIST PIECE OF SHIT didn't allow franz ferdinand to marry sophie chotek

And then literally said "thank God" when he died

Somehow still had the people's support as a poor old man who lost everyone close to him when he either indirectly caused that or just didn't give a shit

a Leo ♌🤢

They wasted such a pretty face and such a snatched waist on such a cunt

Had he stayed alive any longer and he would've been at the negotiating table at the hall of mirrors in 1918 *shivers*

THOROUGHLY UNFUNNY """""desk bound monarch"""""" stringent for protocol """last of the old school monarchs"""" and didn't even cause any nonsense catastrophes that usually accompanies this stick up the arse

68 long monotonous years on the throne then couldn't even make 69 for the joke

Fredrick III, Holy Roman Emperor, reigned 1452-1493

Kicked off the whole tradition of being Holy Roman Emperors

[abiiors]

sick days 💊 // george daniel x reader

promptober '23 - day 9

a/n: based very much on the irl bf who immediately turns into a sickly, dying victorian man whenever he has the sniffles cw: medication i guess, but other than that just fluff wc: 900

george giggles at another sneeze and promptly shuts up when you glare at him. today has not been a good day, your whole body hurts, nose runny and red and your throat feels like you’ve swallowed glass. 

“george,” you whine, struggling to scold him. the warm tea in your hands has done very little to soothe your throat. 

he presses his lips together in an attempt to stop the grin but it’s futile, the smile slips anyway. george, doting and loving boyfriend that he is, has spent the past ten minutes giggling at your red nose, even going so far as to calling you rudolf. he claims it’s affectionate. you settle for giving him one final warning glare before closing your eyes and trying to block out the world, desperately wishing for this terrible day to end.

“aww, my sick baby,” he coos, scooting closer. seconds later, you feel a tiny kiss on your forehead and despite the discomfort you give him a small smile. 

teasing aside, he has been very caring—bringing you warm soup for lunch and making you tea as often as you ask for it. he’s checked your temperature every hour even when it’s not necessary because you barely have a fever. he even did a chemist run to get more paracetamol, lemsip and some ice cream. 

all in all, his teasing really is affectionate. so when he gets in bed next to you, pulling you into his chest for a cuddle, you don’t protest too much.

“gonna catch a cold, babe,” you warn, snuggling in further. 

he snickers, “doesn’t seem like you’re too bothered by that. besides,” he sniffs primly, “i don’t catch the common cold.”

you roll your eyes, knowing he can’t see you. sure, he’s “immune” but it’s only a bad cold. even if he catches it, he’ll live. 

“right…” you reply about to say something more before your body launches into a small coughing fit. george dutifully rubs your back until it passes and holds out the bottle of cough syrup in front of you. 

once you’re done swallowing the bittersweet liquid, you go back to snuggling into his chest, eyes getting heavier by the minute. it’s not long until sleep drags you under. 

it’s only when you wake up again that you register how warm and sticky everything is. it’s like being trapped inside a humid furnace. surprisingly though, the warmth radiating around you is not yours. despite the residual soreness, you feel completely fine; no sore throat, no runny nose or aching body which can only mean one thing…

right on cue, george groans feebly behind you. 

you slowly open your eyes, squinting against the unexpected brightness in the room. as your vision adjusts, you realize that you're no longer wrapped in your own blankets, but rather cocooned in his arms, his warmth enveloping you entirely.

"george?" you murmur, voice still raspy from before.

he stirs and lets out another soft groan, burying his face in your hair. "ugh, i feel awful," george mumbles.

a rush of guilt floods over you. you shouldn’t have let him come so close to you, should have kept him at arm’s length…

you turn in his arms to see his face, and he looks even worse than you did earlier in the day. his nose is red, and his eyes are watery, and he's sniffling. it's clear that the cold has hit him hard, worse than whatever you had.

"oh no, baby," you coo sympathetically, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead, and frown when you realise he’s burning up. 

you never had a fever. whatever he has is definitely worse. 

“i think i’m dying,” he moans, burying his face in the crook of your neck and sniffling dramatically. despite the guilt, that makes you giggle. 

“mmm, thought you were above the common cold?” you tease, still stroking a hand over his head just the way he likes it. george might be a giant but you know what a baby he can be when he’s ill. besides, you’re feeling much better so you might as well assume the nurse duties.

george grumbles. “don’t be mean, i’m ill.”

fever aside, he just looks so adorable all bundled up in the blankets that you can’t help stealing a few kisses. even better, knowing you can’t catch it back. “let me get you some soup and paracetamol.” 

extricating yourself from his arms proves a bit difficult, however. you feel awful ignoring his reluctant and groggy protests but he needs food and medicine. so you make your way to the kitchen, making quick work of reheating the soup he’d made for you earlier in the day. 

carrying the tray back to the bedroom, you find george curled up under the covers, looking pitiful and sorry for himself. his eyes light up as you enter, and he reaches out weakly for the steaming bowl of soup.

at least he’s hungry, that’s a good sign. 

“here you go,” you offer him the bowl, once again brushing the hair aside from his sweaty forehead while he takes a sip and sighs gratefully. 

“thanks for taking care of me, love,” he smiles weakly in between sips. 

you smile, and press a tiny kiss on his shoulder. “‘course. just returning the favour!”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies@sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied

add yourself to the taglist

[eretzyisrael]

by Ben Shapiro

This week at the Oscars, a director named Jonathan Glazer made international headlines. Glazer won an Academy Award for his film, "Zone of Interest," which centers on the family life of Auschwitz commandant Rudolf Hoss and his wife, Hedwig, who happily cultivate their home and garden as just behind the wall, Jews are tortured, shot and gassed. Glazer had an incredible opportunity to point out the obvious continuity between the victims of the Holocaust and the Jewish victims of Hamas terrorists in the Gaza Envelope on Oct. 7; he had the opportunity to point out the continuing plight -- largely ignored by the media and the left -- of some 134 hostages still held in Gaza by Hamas, including American citizens; he had the opportunity to observe the international community's willingness to, for its own political reasons, pile on Israel by attempting to stop the Israeli Defense Forces from destroying Hamas wholesale.

Instead, Glazer did something truly shameful: he used his Jewish background and his Holocaust film to attack Israel.

"Right now we stand here as men who refute their Jewishness and the Holocaust being hijacked by an occupation which has led to conflict for so many innocent people, whether the victims of October the 7th in Israel or the ongoing attack on Gaza," Glazer intoned nervously.

There are a bushel of lies in this single sentence. First, there was no "occupation" of Gaza prior to Oct. 7; the Israelis abandoned Gaza in 2005 and turned it over to the Palestinians, who promptly tore down Israeli infrastructure and elected Hamas, who themselves turned Gaza into a full-scale terror ministate. Second, no "occupation" could justify the wholesale slaughter of some 1,200 innocents in Israel and the taking of 250 hostages on Oct. 7. Third, it is certainly not "Jewish and the Holocaust being hijacked" to point out that Hamas literally targets Jews for extermination, just as the Nazis once did. And finally, Israel is taking extraordinary measures to protect civilian life in Gaza; Israel has taken measures no military in history has taken, including sacrificing the lives of its own soldiers to go door-to-door in a terrorist-ridden urban hellscape.

In fact, Glazer has it all backward. It is he who is using his Jewishness and the Holocaust as a weapon -- in favor of Hamas. Glazer has little actual involvement in Judaism on a day-to-day level -- he grew up reform and there is little evidence of his Jewish practice today. But he's happy to pull out his Jewishness card -- to say that he, As A Jew, stands against Israel defending itself. This allows him to garner plaudits from his fellow political left-wingers, all the while maintaining his status in the intersectional hierarchy. Jews, as it turns out, are only allowed in the intersectional hierarchy so long as they use their Jewishness to attack Israel, or whatever the left-wing cause of the day is.

In reality, Glazer is the villain of his own film. In "Zone of Interest," there are no Jews: all we can hear of them is their screams from beyond the wall. Otherwise, they are nameless, faceless victims. And those are precisely the kinds of Jews Glazer likes. He's happy to use their corpses to win Oscars, even as he attacks the live Jews defending themselves from the ideological descendants of the Nazis, Hamas.

All of which makes sense. After all, as author Dara Horn has pointed out, people love dead Jews. It's the live ones who are so problematic for people like Jonathan Glazer. The live ones have the unfortunate habit of fighting back and making life uncomfortable for doctrinaire left-wingers who want to be accepted in their morally benighted social circles.

[soft-for-yoongi]

as someone who enjoys reading emeto and snz, could u write a fic with both? maybe for yoongi? i dont know what scenario, sorry.

Just a cold? (Sick YG)

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

Sick: Yoongi

Caretaker: Jimin, Seokjin, Hoseok

Tw: emeto, vom**, mentions of nausea, stomach pain, fevers, snz

Word count: 1227

Thank you for requesting!!! Sorry it took longer than I expected!! (I'm still working on other requests, too, so anons, if you see this, your fics are coming!)

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

Yoongi has never been this congested in his life. Blowing his nose has stopped working and he sneezed too many times during a meeting that all the members were sent home. The rapper was grateful for the break but he had songs to produce, not that a single thought could get past his head with how stuffy he feels.

"H-h-hESH'ew.." Hoseok looks at Yoongi sympathetically. Yoongi kicked everyone else out of his room but Hoseok somehow made his way in. He's holding a tray with some soup (made by Jin), tea, more tissues and medicine of course. "Hey, hyung. Jin-hyung says you gotta eat all of the soup or he's gonna take away your laptop." Hoseok explains, handing Yoongi the bowl of home made soup.

Yoongi can't even breathe through his nose and mumbles a groggy, "t'anks Hoba.." he eats the soup slowly, and Hoseok peers over at him lovingly. "Does it taste bad or something? What's with that frowny face?" Hoseok teases, delicately running fingers through Yoongi's hair in a soothing manner. "Head hurts." Yoongi replies, continuing to sip soup off his spoon.

Hoseok tuts, grabbing medicine off the tray. "Take two of these, since you've eaten something. They should work within about 30 minutes." Hoseok hands Yoongi some water. He pops the pills and blows his nose again, chucking it into the half full bin next to his bed. "Keep eating, hyung but I'm gonna let you be. Jungkookie wants me to work out with him." Hoseok smiles, recalling Jungkook's begging to get him to come to the company gym.

Yoongi's mouth curls upwards, "thanks Hoba, enjoy." Yoongi says, now almost three quarters finished the soup. Hoseok pats Yoongi's foot through the blanket and leaves the room, switching the light off to the elder's pleasure.

-----

With the soup finished and after blowing his nose at least 4 more times, the ache in Yoongi's head is still persisting and his stomach is starting to feel uneasy, and not because of the soup. The rapper has been trying to fall asleep, in the darkness of his room it shouldn't be that hard, yet there he is. Wrapped up in blankets and hugging his stomach.

It had been around an hour and a half since Hoseok left and now Jimin comes trailing into Yoongi's bedroom. Jimin is about to retreat because he thinks Yoongi is fast asleep, that is until he hears a horrible sneeze and moan come from the lump in bed. Jimin stands frozen as Yoongi blows his nose and picks up the bin half full with tissues to—gag into it..?

"Are you okay, Yoongi-hyung??" Jimin says, beginning to stroke up and down Yoongi's back. He hugs the bin, gagging again and spitting out excess saliva. Jimin flicks the bedside lamp on and Yoongi's paler than normal features are highlighted along with his pink Rudolf-looking nose.

"My stomach doesn't feel good, Jimin-ah.." Yoongi says, throat clenching around a heave. Jimin rakes Yoongi's long hair out the way just in time for him to bring up a wave of Seokjin's soup. It looks too much like it did when Yoongi first consumed it and it makes him feel sicker. "Oh, hyungie.. you'll feel better once you're empty." Jimin coos, praying that someone else comes and finds them because at this rate, Jimin is horriblely worried. Yoongi just has a cold, right? Why is he throwing up?

Jimin shoots Seokjin a quick text, 'can you please help? Yoongi-hyung is throwing up :(((' he pockets his phone just as Yoongi pukes again. Jimin pats the elder's back, trying to block out the distinct smell of puke but alternatively can't imagine leaving his hyung alone like this.

The patter of Seokjin's feet quick on their hardwood floors is music to Jimin's ears. "Oh, Yoongi-ah... you poor thing." Seokjin croons, walking over and beginning to massage Yoongi's nape. The rapper is thankful and fast to lean into the oldest' touch. A wave of calm washes over Jimin, but he tenses slightly when Yoongi reels forward with a productive heave.

Seokjin eyes the bowl on Yoongi's bedside table and hums approvingly when he finds it empty of his delicious soup. At least he knows that's not the reason Yoongi's sick. "He'll be okay, Jiminie." Seokjin eases the dancer just a little, continuing to rub Yoongi's back and hold his hair.

Yoongi spits and Jimin hands him some water. "Small sips, Yoon." Seokjin comments and Yoongi complies, water soothing his throat and diluting the taste in his mouth. Yoongi palms his stomach with a grimace, "think 'm done." The rapper says, sniffling. Jimin offers a tissue to which Yoongi blows his nose and adds it to the bin.

"Stomach hurting, Yoongi-hyung?" Jimin ponders, while Seokjin whisks away to clean the bin. Yoongi lays back down in bed, nodding weakly. "I'll go get you a heat back, hyung–" Jimin turns to leave but a cool hand grips his wrist.

"Jimin.. can you stay?" Yoongi mumbles, if he didn't say it then it might’ve never came out. "Oh, of course, hyung!" Jimin grins, taking advantage of Yoongi's request for affection and joining Yoongi in his bed. "Get some rest, Yoongi-hyung." Jimin whispers, flicking the lamp off.

Jimin shuffles closer to Yoongi, their bodies pressed together under the covers. Yoongi felt calmness wash over him just at the comforting presence of Jimin, something unique to the dancer. The pain and discomfort in his stomach was still there, and his nose is congested, but tiredness weighs over his whole body.

Jimin could feel the warmth coming off of Yoongi, no doubt a fever. Seokjin comes back in quietly to return the now clean bin, "sleep well, you two." The eldest smiles, exiting the bedroom. Yoongi can hear whispers of conversation and laughter from their living room, probably Jungkook and Hoseok returning from the gym. Yoongi's stomach gurgles, reminding him of his motive to fall asleep.

Jimin's small hand moves from Yoongi's waist to his stomach, starting some light circles. For the first 20 minutes, it's comforting for the older, however the gurgling and relentless nausea isn't letting up. Yoongi gives in to a few deep breaths, trying to see if he can cope. He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Jimin is watching him like a hawk, lips downturned in worry. "You okay, hyung?"

Yoongi starts to sit up when mucus runs down his throat, prompting a closed mouth gag. Before he can make a mess, Jimin swipes the bin up, sticking it under Yoongi's mouth. He starts to empty what's left in his stomach, mostly bile and water. He coughs and Jimin has to pass another tissue so Yoongi can blow his nose again. He continues rubbing Yoongi's back just like Seokjin did and murmurs words of comfort.

"Sorry, you'll have to clean it again.." Yoongi sighs, voice hoarse from the ordeal. "Don't worry about it, hyung. I can leave this in the bathroom and get you something else, are you still feeling sick?" Jimin asks, concern clear in his voice. Yoongi shakes his head weakly, "I'm okay. Just sore, thank you Jiminie." Jimin takes the bin and eases the rapper to lay down again. Jimin leaves the bin in the bathroom to deal with later and returns quickly.

"Night, Yoongi-hyung." Jimin snuggles up to the elder. "I'll always look after you."