#i love school but oof my brain the past few years does not

[otterandterrier]

submitted a homework for one of the lowkey posgrad courses I'm taking and I was chosen to share with the class tomorrow ✌️ nerd dessi is coming back

[angelmavmurdock]

The Boy Next Door

WARNINGS: SMUT, ORAL (fem+mal), DIRTY TALK, PRAISE, CHOKING, THIGH RIDING, MENTIONS OF DRUGS.

inexperienced!reader x stoner!tom

(inspired by Ginny and Georgia)

The new house was a lot bigger than our last house. But of course that's due to my mother marrying a man 30 years older than her who owns some workout company. She's a gold digger is what I'm trying to say. Ever since I can remember, whatever guy she was dating dictated where we would live, where my brother and I would go to school, what I'd wear, how I'd act and even what friends I had. Or, lack there of. Always being the 'new girl' was beginning to get exhausting so I never really had friends. If I gained any friends then I knew that we'd get close then I'd move and we'd stay in touch for about a month before they move on and forget about me.

y/n. Always the new girl.

"y/n would you help us, please?" Mum asked in an annoyed tone, brushing past me with a box in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, walking to the car and beginning to lift stuff out and into the house. It was a huge driveway - unnecessarily large - and everyone on the street was the same. Everyone in the town was the same. It was a rich, suburban area. No place I hadn't seen before but we definitely didn't belong. My Mum just shapeshifted into whoever she thought Greg would want. Greg being my 'step-dad'. He's 63. My Mum is 33. How is that even allowed.

We unloaded everything from the cars and waited on the trucks arriving with everything else. Cameron and I scuffed our shoes as we strolled through the huge house, taking in everything and familiarising ourselves with our new home.

"I'm so glad I'm not at school anymore because being in a class with snobby assholes like these people would be shit." Cameron said, crossing his arms as he gestured to the family across the road.

I walked over to him and watched too. A family of 5 - two girls, one boy, Mum and a Dad - were dressed rather nicely in dresses and suits. They came out of their house and waltzed to their Tesla nonchalantly with their noses in the air. The eldest girl looked around my age. She would probably be in some of my classes.

"I'm not looking forward to Monday." I groaned.

We stood in comfortable silence, watching the Tesla inquisitively as it drove off with the family inside.

"Trucks arrived!" Mum called from the front door.

We both shared our sibling look with one another then walked back out with reluctance. Mum was standing in the middle of the driveway with her hands on her hips, watching as Greg approached the van and signed some forms off. Cameron and I walked down and stood either side of her. She grinned and wrapped her arms around us, rubbing both our backs simultaneously.

"I've got a good feeling about this, guys." She took a deep breath.

"At least someone does." I remarked.

She ignored the comment and we watched Greg do practically nothing. I mean he was basically an ancient artefact.

"I've heard your new school is wonderful. The pass grade levels are insanely good and there's a lot of people there to befriend." Mum spoke positively.

"My last 6 schools also had a lot of people to befriend but of course, I always lose them because we move so bloody much." I clenched my jaw.

"Well...this time it's different."

I scoffed, "You always say that."

"I swear this time!"

"And that!"

"y/n I don't know what you want me to do. Greg is a great guy who is supporting us fully! I mean, look at this place! Surely you can't be mad we're living here." Mum shook her head, removing her arm from my waist.

"I'd rather live in a box with just you two than live in a huge house with some random guy in a town I hate." I argued then stormed away dramatically up the driveway.

I got into the house and slammed the door, grabbing the banister and stomping up the flight of stairs. There was one flight then a landing then another flight. This house was too bloody big.

I finally found what was meant to be my new room and slammed that door shut. Just for good measure. I huffed and sighed as I leaned my back against the white, wooden door.

The room was stark white and empty, only a bay window to give some character. I might hate Greg and my mother and this whole situation but I loved this bay window. I snaked in between the boxes and suitcases and sat on the wooden ledge. I kicked my shoes off before sitting my feet up and watching outside. My room faced the front of the house so I could see the movers offloading furniture and boxes off while Greg stood helplessly.

I groaned and leaned my head back, closing my eyes, just wanting to crawl into a shell and hide.

A slam of a car door forced my eyelids open and I jumped slightly.

"Where do you think you're going?!"

I heard a woman's voice from outside. I looked outside curiously, scanning the street with my eyes to find where the noise was coming from. It finally caught my eye and I had to sit up and switch sides of the window to look properly.

A red-headed woman and a curly headed boy were standing in the driveway.

Our next door neighbours apparently.

The boy was around my age, maybe a little older. He stumbled a little as he walked up the drive, his mother - I think - watching from behind her car door.

"I'm going to bed!" He shouted back.

"Not now you're not, you have to talk to me, Thomas!" She shouted, slamming her own car door.

Thomas.

He hung his head on his shoulders, "I need to sleep, mum."

"Well I just had to bail you out of jail for marijuana possession and use so you better talk to me."

Oof, I thought. He was a stoner. A criminal basically. But he was attractive from what you could see. Dark brown curly hair, tall enough, a sharp jawline, a good body from where I was sitting and a good style too - a hoodie with a denim jacket and jeans. But he was my neighbour. And a stoner.

"Mum can we just talk later?" He pleaded, running a hand through his hair.

"Tom we will talk about this right now." She said sternly.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his back to her and walking away. I watched him with a slight smile. He really was attractive.

"Thomas Holland you get back here right now!" His mother shouted.

"When I'm not on drugs, I'll talk." He stated.

His mother stuttered then just grunted in annoyance, allowing him to go inside.

I kept my eyes on him, my smile still on my face as he started to walk into his house. He suddenly turned his head with a confused expression then looked up. Straight at me through my window.

I froze in shock, eyes widening, mouth parting. He slowly smirked and nodded his head at me before going inside.

I sunk off the window ledge in humiliation, snaking to the floor and mumbling how stupid I was and how embarrassing that was.

"y/n! Come meet your neighbour!" Mum shouted up.

My ears perked up then I leaped up to look out the bay window. The boy next door's mum was standing outside, chatting to my mum.

-

I hardly learned anything talking to his mum. Her name was Nikki Holland, she had a husband named Dominic who was a comedian and a writer. She was a photographer. Along with Tom - the oldest - she had three other sons: twins named Harry and Sam and then Paddy who was a good bit younger. I can't remember the exact age. My mum had nosily asked her about Tom and that was the only part I listened to.

"He's 18,"

"Dropped out of school last year,"

"Says he wants to be an actor,"

"Oh today? He got in trouble from the police about...you know what, that isn't important."

"You look so young to be a mother to a teenager. How old are you?"

"And you're 18, too?" "Still in school?" "What do you want to do?" "Ah, smart girl."

The conversation was brief and slightly awkward. She was clearly stressed about Tom and his situation so I slid out of the engagement pretty fast and escaped up to my room.

During the entirety of the weird conversation, the movers had put my bed, mattress and desk into my room. It felt a lot more homier.

-

It was the next night and I had finished dinner and immediately gone upstairs. I was not participating in any sort of 'family time'. I sat down on my bed and scrolled through my phone aimlessly.

A thump outside drew my attention away and I looked to my right at the regular window which faced our neighbours house.

I sat up and squinted to see out into the dark. It was Tom. He was halfway out his window.

I didn't even realise our windows faced each other. And here he was, one leg out the window and his other following on. He had thrown a backpack down which caused the dull thump on the grass - which I only assume contains weed - and now he was escaping his house.

I got out of bed and walked to the glass, peeking out to see what he was doing.

He climbed impressively down the wall and jumped the last few metres, landing in a Spider-Man like pose. Admirable, I thought as he picked up his back pack and slid a skateboard out from a bush. He brushed it off then slotted it under his armpit.

He was sporting a black t-shirt with a dog-tag necklace and some distressed deep blue jeans with a denim jacket over top and a baseball cap placed on backwards that sat on top of his curly head of hair.

He looked around in case he was going to get caught then looked up. Directly at me. Again.

This time I didn't shy away. I just made a gesture and mouthed 'what the fuck?' then he laughed to himself and looked back up at me.

'Don't be so nosy, neighbour', he mouthed.

I squinted and shook my head in disapproval. He just smirked boyishly then walked to his driveway where he flipped his skateboard and skated off into the night.

I gulped and sat back on my bed, feeling my heart rate slow back down.

But curiosity filled my brain.

Where was he going?

-

Just as Sunday night came around, I had finished decorating my room. My pictures and paintings hung on the wall, along with some mirrors to fill the blank space of the white walls. My bed was cosy and was filled with throw blankets, fluffy sheets and way too many pillows. My desk was organised and my laptop sat atop the white surface, making it look a lot more professional than I had anticipated.

I had turned my bay window into a reading nook. A few blankets lay on the ledge and a couple pillows too, along with my current read.

I had seen Tom sneak out a few nights ago but I tried to stay away from the regular window, only ever sitting on the bay one because I couldn't see Toms room from there.

However, it didn't shield me from him completely.

I would see him outside in their front garden playing games with his brothers and sometimes I'd watch them from just over the top of my book. The way he played with their dog was cute. I had gathered her name was Tessa and I knew she was a staffy because we used to have one. He'd throw balls or sticks for her and sometimes she'd clamber on top of him with excitement. He'd dodge her licks but still clap her because she was excited after all.

Every once in a while he'd catch me looking down at him or I'd catch him looking up at me. Whenever it happened, it seemed as if everyone and everything disappeared. Like it was just us. Tunnel view. But then one of us would look away or stick the middle finger up or mouth 'fuck off'. Our unusual and silent rivalry was the closest thing to a friend I'd had in years.

But now, Mum, Greg and Cameron were going out to a nice dinner to celebrate the first week of living here. I thought it was an incredibly stupid idea so I decided to stay home alone and eat pizza.

They all left and Cameron immediately texted me.

Cammando: I hate you for leaving me

y/n: your fault not mine :)

I didn't really know what to do. I walked around the house and asked Alexa to play some songs but I couldn't be bothered dancing. I wasn't really in a dancing mood.

I just gave up and went back upstairs into my room. My windows were still open so before I got changed I went to close them and put down the blinds. I closed the bay window and then I went to the next one.

I looked straight ahead into Toms room and my jaw dropped.

He was hopping and hyping himself up in front of a punch bag...shirtless with gloves on. I watched as he punched the bag skilfully, moving his feet as if it was a choreographed routine. His damp curly hair hung onto his forehead and I could see glimpses of airpods in his ears. His back muscles tightened and flexed as he threw punches.

He moved around the bag and now I could see the front of him. He had a very visible six pack. I definitely didn't expect that from the stoner boy next door. If I thought he was attractive before...now I don't even know what I would call him.

Otherworldly, perhaps?

He suddenly looked up and I gasped, turning and slamming my back against the wall next to the window, wincing at the pain. Hopefully he didn't see me...

It was creepy to be staring at him. I shouldn't have done it.

I peeked back and he was back to beating the poor punch bag.

God, he was so hot.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, burning with lust. I gulped and looked away, closing the blind to stop myself from looking anymore.

I got changed into shorts and a burgundy Cambridge University jumper that used to belong to my Dad. He gave it to me the first time he properly left for a while and I still have it even though I see him more often.

I hopped downstairs and played some music while I sorted the pizza and chips out to eat.

I sat and ate while listening to music. Once I was finished, I cleaned everything up then went back upstairs into my room, shutting the door behind me and jumping onto my bed.

I scrolled through tiktok aimlessly, just filling the time before it was an acceptable hour to go to bed as a teenager.

I switched apps to Instagram when I lay on my side, my back facing my windows. I scrolled through for a while but a certain picture caught my eye.

I had to blink a few times to really look.

It was my so called 'best friend' who I hadn't talked to since I moved twice after befriending her and my ex-boyfriend. My ex. My only boyfriend I've ever had. My first kiss, my first date...my first time. My only time. We only had sex twice. Three if you count foreplay but I faked it. Actually I faked it all of the times. He was never good at it and I had no idea how to go about telling him because to be honest, I had no idea what to do either.

But my ex-best friend and my ex-boyfriend? She didn't even tell me. She didn't even think to ask me.

They were dressed nicely and holding each other's waists. It looked a little awkward but most of those pictures are because they are being taken by parents.

I looked through the comments.

OMG! Hot couple alert! You two are the cutest just marry already yall are too happy it's been the best year of my life baby

"WHAT?!" I exclaimed, sitting up sharply.

They had been together for a YEAR.

"Ugh!" I groaned and threw my phone across my room, hearing it basically break against the wooden floor.

"Rough night?" A voice spoke from my window.

I screamed, jumping with fear and successfully landing my ass on the floor.

I panicked and grabbed the first thing I could use as a weapon. A glass of water. It would have to do.

I quickly flung the water at the intruder, "WHAT THE FUCK, GET OUT!" I screamed, my eyes closed tightly in fear.

I heard the water splash over them but they still came in. I just threw the glass at them. It thumped against them dully and then crashed onto the floor.

"Ouch."

I slowly opened one eye and looked up at the figure who had just entered my room.

It was Tom.

He was in a grey t-shirt and black basketball shorts with a baseball cap placed on backwards, a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING CLIMBING INTO MY ROOM?!" I shouted, standing up.

He was taller than me by a few inches but we were basically at eye level.

"I was clearly looking for some company but you then threw water over me and then a literal glass." He spoke calmly, wiping a hand over his wet face.

"How the hell are you being so calm about this?! You just intruded into my home!" I exclaimed.

"Well, darling, I have a thing called weed. It's great for calming you down. You clearly need some." He slung his bag around and went to open it.

"W-what? No, I'm not smoking weed!"

He sighed and slung his bag back, "Well, why are you being so uptight about this I just wanted to say hello." He smiled boyishly.

I licked my teeth in annoyance. He was so fucking attractive but he was so fucking annoying and I didn't even know him.

"You need to get out. I didn't invite you in here so you are not welcome." I stated, crossing my arms.

"Okay, yes. But also- my mother nearly just caught me sneaking out so it's a cover if she comes round here."

"Why would she come here?" I asked.

"Because she's a mad woman who hates me having a life apparently."

"You're an 18 year old who sneaks out of the house to smoke weed. I wouldn't call that a life." I remarked.

He smirked, "You know what, I like you."

He sat his bag down then started to walk slowly around my room, inspecting my pictures and decorations intricately.

I stuttered, not knowing how to react to this whole situation.

"I'm sorry, what the hell are you doing?" I asked, brows furrowed.

"You're quite an interesting person, I must say."

I sighed and shook my head at the ceiling.

"Ah, this makes sense." He picked up one of my camera's.

I scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sat it down and picked up the next one, shrugging with a smug smirk.

"You like looking at things."

I gulped, red rushing to my cheeks.

"Clearly very beautiful things." He said, referring to my pictures on the walls.

"I'm just honoured I'm one of them."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, "You wish you were."

"Oh but I am, aren't I?" He challenged, sitting my camera down.

I licked my back teeth and watched with heavy breath as he paced towards me slowly.

"I've never taken a picture of you before." I said matter-of-factly.

"You might not have but you definitely love a good stare, don't you?" He asked, his left eyebrow quirked cockily.

I noticed the unusualness of it and then looked into his dark, dilated eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I said quietly.

He laughed lowly, "So you weren't staring at me earlier when I was working out?"

I stuttered as we came face to face.

"You're stubborn but I feel like I know you," He placed his fingers under my chin, tracing up my jaw and to my ear where he tucked some of my hair behind.

"Because I've been looking at you, too." He whispered.

I practically melted and a whimper left my mouth, eyes rolling back.

He chuckled, "Already needy for me I see."

I looked up at him as his thumb swiped over my lips.

This whole situation was insane. I didn't even know how we got here. I didn't know how to feel, either. I had never been turned on like this before.

He slowly pushed his thumb into my mouth and I moaned around it, tasting his skin.

"Good girl." He praised, taking his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue.

I moaned again, feeling his lips on mine. His hands gripped my waist and I tangled my fingers into his hair.

He tasted of weed but I didn't mind it at all. He pushed me backwards until I hit the wall next to my bed. He gripped my hips tightly and I kept my hands in his hair. He must have gone for a shower since his workout because he smelled fresh and clean and his hair was damp.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was kissing a stranger. Who climbed into my room.

"Wait-" He pulled away briefly.

"Is your family home?" He asked.

"No, they're out all night." I answered breathlessly.

He smirked, "Good."

He suddenly lifted me up and I squealed, automatically wrapping my legs around his taut torso.

His tongue slipped between my lips again and I welcomed it. He lay me down on my bed and started to kiss down to my jaw and my neck.

I gasped and tugged his hair when he started kissing a certain spot on my skin. He got the message that I liked it and started licking and sucking on it. I arched my back slightly, moaning as he worked his tongue and lips on my skin.

He left the spot on my neck but kissed over my skin as he started to lift my jumper up. Panic and nerves suddenly settled in and I grabbed his hands, stopping his movements.

"You alright?" He asked breathlessly.

I swallowed, "I uh...I've never-"

His eyes widened, "You're a virgin?"

"No, no. I've had sex it just...it just wasn't that great." I bit my lip nervously.

He encased my lips in his and I relaxed to his touch.

"Do you want to?" He asked against my lips.

"Yes, fuck yes." I practically moaned into his mouth.

"I just need you to guide me through it." I said in between kisses.

He pulled away, "I can do that." He smiled.

He started to lift my jumper off and this time I let him. I sat up and he removed it, throwing it off the bed. He admired the pink bralette I was wearing and immediately pressed his lips and tongue to the valley of my breasts. He nipped and sucked on my skin and I moaned as he palmed one of my boobs while leaving marks on the other.

He came back up and kissed me again but flipped us over so I was now on top. He sat up and shuffled back against my headboard and pulled me onto his lap.

He brushed my hair off my shoulders and cupped my chin, taking me in.

"D'you wanna try riding my thigh?" He asked lowly.

I gulped, "S-sure."

He smirked and I straddled his left thigh, holding his shoulders.

"Just rock your hips back and forwa-"

"Fuck," I moaned, the rubbing of the different materials causing my core to clench.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, his breath fanning over my face.

His hands rested on my hips and he helped my movements.

"Feels so good." I moaned.

"Yeah? You like riding my thigh?" He prompted, his hands making me speed up.

I fisted the material of his shirt in my hands as my mouth fell agape with pleasure.

"Riding my thigh like such a good girl." He praised.

"Fuck!" I hung my head back, his words going straight to my core.

He chuckled cockily, "D'you like when I call you that? Huh?"

I nodded, too flustered with these new senses of pleasure to speak.

His hand travelled up into my hair and tugged on it by my roots. A louder moan than I would have liked escaped my lips.

"I asked you a question, answer me." He said sternly.

"Fuck! Yes, I love it when you call me that." I answered pathetically.

"Good girl." He praised, letting go of my hair and rocking my hips on him.

I felt an immense amount of pleasure build up and it felt as if something was going to snap in me.

"Oh shit, I- fuck!" I furrowed my brows in concentration and confusion.

"R'you gonna cum, darling?" He asked, almost shocked.

"I don't- fuck - know!" I moaned, feeling the knot inside my stomach about to snap.

But before that could even happen I was being flipped back onto my back and Tom was ripping off my shorts and panties, diving in between my legs with lust.

His hands held my thighs and brought me closer to him. His lips attached to my clit and sucked, giving me a whole new feeling.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes!" I moaned shamelessly, tugging his hair and fisting the bedsheets.

"Go on, darling. Cum in my mouth for me. Taste so good. Please, love."

The mixture between his words and his nicknames for me and the fact his mouth was working wonders on my core completely sent me over the edge: an experience I had never had before.

"Holy shit! Tom! Yes!" I subconsciously tightened my thighs around his head and my hands practically pushed him completely onto me.

He continued riding me through my high until I unclenched my thigh and he pulled away slowly.

I lay breathless and in a state of shock and euphoria at the same time.

"You okay?" He asked soothingly, rubbing his hand over my bare thigh as he came up to kiss me.

"Yeah I've...I've never-"

"You've never came before?" Tom asked, baffled by me.

"Nope..."

He kept his eyes on me but slipped a hand down to my core again. I bucked my hips against his hand with a gasp as he moved his fingers in circles over my core.

"You've never even touched yourself?" He asked lowly.

I bit my lip and shook my head.

"You're so wet for me, darling, fuck." He cursed.

He suddenly dipped a finger into my core and I moaned. He curled it up and I gripped his arm tightly.

"What d'you want?" He asked.

"I want you, Tom, please." I bit my lip.

He smiled and sat back, his hand coming away from my clit, leaving me feeling empty. He shed his shirt and I finally got to look at his chiselled torso up close. He then slid his shorts and boxers off and my jaw dropped at the sight of him.

He was semi-hard but he was already bigger than my ex. A lot bigger.

He pumped his member in his hand, "You sure about this?"

I stuttered, completely distracted by his actions than his words.

"What? You like the look of it? Hmm? Wanna suck me off?" He asked, his hand cupping my chin and sliding his thumb into my mouth again.

I moaned at his words and nodded.

"You want to suck me off, darling? You sure?" He asked, removing his thumb.

"Yes, fuck Tom, I wanna suck you off." I moaned.

"Good girl." He praised.

We switched positions so he was sitting against the headboard and now I was in between his legs.

"I don't know how to..." I said shakily.

"You're okay," He gathered my hair up in his hands.

"Do whatever feels natural and I'll tell you if it's good, yeah?"

I nodded and gulped, moving my mouth closer to his member. I pumped him in my hand a few times and I could almost feel him harden right there. I had done this part before, at least.

I lowered my mouth onto him, swirling my tongue around his lip. He hissed slightly and gripped my hair tighter. I slowly let my mouth down on him and came back up.

"That's it, good girl." He praised.

I moaned and continued bobbing my head slowly on him, finding a rhythm. I held his thigh for support as I got faster, easing into it.

"Fuck, darling, feels so good." He groaned.

The taste of him in my mouth was amazing, pre cum already escaping onto my tongue.

I slackened my jaw and took as much of him as I could then pumped the rest in my hand.

"Holy shit! Fuck!" He held my head there and thrusted up.

His member hit the back of my throat but I didn't mind it at all. He made sure I was okay then did it again. And again. And again. Until he was continuously throat fucking me. I enjoyed it, surprisingly. The obscene sounds my mouth was making was not only making Tom more aroused, but also me.

I felt some drool drip down from my mouth onto my chin and even onto his lower stomach but I didn't care.

"Fuck, love those pretty little sounds coming from your throat, baby." He groaned.

I moaned, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"Such a good girl."

But then he pulled me off of him. I looked at him in confusion but he flipped me onto my back sooner than I could say anything.

"Need to be in you before I cum, princess." He said, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.

"Ready?" He asked.

I felt his tip brush up and down my folds. I gripped his arms and nodded, closing my eyes to concentrate.

"Hey, look at me." He said.

I looked up into his gorgeous chocolate eyes.

"Breathe in," He instructed.

I did as he said.

"And out."

As I breathed out, he pushed into me slowly.

I moaned and arched my back at the feeling of him inside of me. His technique worked.

"You okay?" He asked caringly.

I nodded, biting my lip.

"You can move."

He started thrusting slowly in and out of me, my arousal making it a lot easier for him to move.

"So fuckin' tight, darling." He cursed.

I wrapped my thighs around his waist and he bottomed me out.

"Yes!" I moaned, my back arching so our chests were touching.

"Does that feel good?" He asked.

I hummed, "Faster, please."

He smirked, "As you wish."

His thrusts got gradually faster and my mouth hung open in a silent moan. He brushed past my g-spot with every movement and I scraped his back with my finger nails.

"So fucking good," I gasped.

He sped his thrusts completely and his head fell into the crook of my neck, leaving sloppy kisses on my skin.

"So big! Yes!" I moaned pornographically as he perfectly met my g-spot.

He reached a hand down and started rubbing my clit in skilful circles. I screamed out in overwhelming pleasure as I felt the now familiar feeling come back in my stomach.

"So good for me, darling. Been such a good girl. You gonna cum?" Tom whispered his praises into my ear.

"So close! Oh my god!" I curled my toes and dug my fingernails into his back.

"Come on darling. Feel so good around my cock. Feel so fucking good. You're a fucking angel, y/n. Fuck." He moaned.

I rolled my eyes back at his words. God his words.

"I'm gonna cum!" I squealed, eyes squeezing shut.

"Look at me when you cum, love."

I could hardly hear his voice anymore as I felt my second high approaching.

"I said-"

I gasped as I felt his hand around my throat, pressing the sides of my neck, activating some unknown pleasure button.

"Look at me when you cum all over my fucking cock." He grunted, his dark, dilated eyes staring into mine.

I kept my eyes on him as my high began to wash over me. His thrusts kept the same pace but his fingers moved faster, spurring my orgasm along.

"Yes! Fuck, feels so- yes!" I moaned.

I was extremely loud, I'm surprised the police hadn't come knocking asking about it.

My high seemed to be everlasting. Tom began to pull out but I kept my legs wrapped around him.

"Want you to cum in me, Tom. Please." I begged.

"You sure?" He asked, holding his orgasm back.

"Yes! Please! Need your cum in me." I moaned seductively against his lips.

"Fuck- so good for me- yes!"

I felt as he stilled in me, and as his cum painted my walls. His face contorted in levels of pleasure as he finished and I was finally coming down from my own high.

He pulled out after a second and collapsed next to me.

We both lay together, not saying a word, just listening to each other's breathing calm.

After a minute or two, he turned to face me.

"That- was so fucking good." He laughed.

"It was." I smiled back.

He reached a hand over to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear. I softened into his touch and hummed.

But that bliss was broken quickly.

"Hello?! We're home!"

I gasped, shooting up on my bed.

"Is that your mum?!" Tom whisper shouted.

"Yes! You need to go like now!" I whispered back.

He scurried off the bed and into his boxers and clothes, shakily putting on his shirt and attempting to put his shoes on quickly but leaving them untied.

I grabbed his backpack and handed it to him.

"Thank you," He smiled, taking it from me and heading for the window again.

He swung a leg out but then hesitated.

"Oh and uh-"

He held his hand out.

"I'm Tom, by the way." He grinned.

I smiled, shaking his hand.

"I'm y/n. Nice to meet you, neighbour."

"Nice to meet you, too." He winked, before climbing out the window, down the wall and back into his own house.

Nice to meet you indeed.

-

A/N: this is written for my amazing friend Caitlin and it's her birthday today! and she gave me all the details for this piece so i hope you guys enjoyed!

[thora-jane]

Twin-Way Mirror Pt. 1 (Weasley Twins/Reader Love Triangle)

Series Summary: You've been friends with the Weasley twins since your first train to Hogwarts, but as the three of you start your 6th year, you start to question if your feelings go beyond friendship.

Summary for Pt 1: as Summer draws to a close, some old friends come to take you off to the Quidditch World Cup

Warnings: none, I don't think. Maybe some tension between you and your parents.

Word count: 2,200

female!reader, 2nd person POV

Summer Holidays were special, you supposed, what with everyone taking a break from classes and unwinding for a couple months. You personally hadn’t been as big of a fan since you started Hogwarts. You were a Muggleborn, and Hogwarts was the first time you felt you actually understood school. You had been a horrible student in muggle school and consistently got terrible marks, but at Hogwarts? You were the brightest witch of your year. Even before your first day of classes, you had poured over every book cover to cover, examined your wand and robes for hours on end, and it took everything inside you not to start making potions.

Summer holidays were just the months in between. The time when you would lie to all your muggle friends about your new school (a private school, meant to reform students doing poorly in the academics department), and hold your breath amidst the tension of your muggle parents heavily encouraging you to continue to study muggle subjects and go to a muggle university after you graduate (“Come now, (y/n), you can’t possibly think you can just live out your life as a witch, do you?”).

A silver lining to all of this were the letters you would get from your friends. Once the sun had gone down and you could release your pet owl, Eros, with a letter or two strapped to his foot. In the morning, he would fly back with a letter or package before falling asleep in his cage. The letters would be from a few different friends every once in a while; Angelina would write to you about the latest news in Quidditch, always assuring you that this would be the year you make it onto the team, Hermione would send you newspaper clippings as your parents didn’t want you subscribing to a wizard newspaper, even Oliver would write and tell you about how his summers were going since he knew you didn’t see your friends much. And of course, there were the letters from the Weasleys.

You were in the same year as the twins, Fred and George, but no one could ever be friends with just a few of the Weasleys, it was always all or nothing. Ginny would write to you about quidditch (also assuring you you’d make the team, though you never did), Mr. Weasely would write and ask for common muggle objects, or with a whole laundry list of questions about muggle life, Mrs. Weasely would write asking you if you were being taken care of, sending you recipes and craft patterns, knowing how much you loved to cook and work with yarn, even Ron and Percy would write you, though mostly because Mrs. Weasley made them. Percy never let on as he scribbled about ministry business, but almost all of Ron’s consisted of “How are you, I am fine, mum wants me to write you. The twins miss you. xoxo Sorry, that was Fred and George.”

Ah, the Twins. Their letters were always your favorite, filled with page-long jokes or stories of their epic pranks and escapades, sometimes with a chocolate frog or some other sweet taped to the inside of the letter. Of course, when they mentioned making a line of pranking sweets, you were a bit hesitant to eat some of the things they sent. But you always seemed to walk away from the experience with all your teeth and toes, so you figured you wouldn’t get pranked unless they were there in person.

You kept all the letters and souvenirs and clippings sent, and even hung some up on your bedroom wall. Of course, none of the letters sent to you went unanswered, there would be days on end when you would write and craft responses to them, especially when one of the twins sent you a letter. You always closed out their responses assuring them that the three of you would see eachother again soon, and that next term would arrive before they knew it.

Granted, when you said this, you didn’t expect anyone to show up on your doorstep one day.

You were up in your room, writing out a response to George’s most recent letter and scrounging around for one of the candybars you had bought for him after finally convincing him to try muggle candy. It was then that you heard the doorbell ring. You paid it no attention, and chalked it all up to one of your mum’s friends stopping by for a coffee.

This of course, was not the case. You heard a few different voices, besides your mum, one or two of them belonged to who you assumed were women, but the others sounded much deeper. Then you heard thumping footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall. The next thing you knew, there was a loud pounding on the door.

Then there was silence.

You weren’t quite sure who was there, but you hadn’t heard anything from your parents about company. And if there was one thing you’ve learned at Hogwarts, in these past few years especially, is that you always need to be on your toes.

You drew your wand out from your tied back hair and, holding it at the ready, opened up the door.

You weren’t quite sure who you were expecting, but not a second later two messes of red and black hair came flying towards you as Harry and Ron yanked you into a half-hug, half-tackle.

“(y/n)!” Harry laughed, moving your hand holding your wand so it didn’t stab him in the face, “the look on your face!”

Ron almost snorted, “Bloody hell, the twins would have paid galleons to see that!”

It took you a moment to recover your breath, but once the two boys stepped back from their hug, you managed to stutter out a question.

“Why are...uh...what are you doing here? And where are the twins?” You turned to Ron, who had walked over to your desk and started looking up at all the letters tapped to the wall, he started talking, but you could tell he was much more absorbed in all the papers and pictures and doodles.

“We’re here to pick you up, you’re all packed, aren’t you? The cup is in a few days and-say, were you going to eat this?” he interrupted himself, holding up one of the candy bars.

You walked past your bed and yanked a pillow out from Harry, who had seemed to make himself comfortable before you hit him with a pillow, then did the same to Ron.

“No, you may not eat that, that isn’t for you. And what cup? What do you mean all packed?” You tossed the pillow back onto your bed, and it landed on Harry’s face with an ‘oof’ before you pulled your trunk out of the closet and started tossing some of your cleaner and folded laundry in there, “Ronald I have no clue what you’re talking about. Harry, what does he mean?”

Although neither of you were in the Weasely family, you and Harry treated each other like siblings. Maybe not close friends, but the two of you were close enough that talking to him wasn’t too difficult.

“The Quidditch World Cup. Ron, didn’t you tell her?” He sat back up on your bed, looking over at Ron with his brow furrowed, “Your mum had you write her about it the other day, yeah?”

Ron smacked himself in the head, “I knew I was forgetting something! (Y/n), Dad got enough tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and you’re coming with us. Now, mum thought I wrote you and you’re supposed to be packed for school too, we’re taking all your stuff to the burrow and dropping you off at the Hogwarts express with the rest of us.”

“You’re only just now telling me?!” You tried not to shriek as you started packing faster, racking through your brain for all the things you’d need. You hadn’t gotten the list of books yet this year, but you intended on going before the year started. After running to the closet again and tossing your school uniform into the trunk, you ran over to the desk and shoved Ron aside to grab your box of letter writing things and some of the magical books you thought might be useful this year. While hastily stacking the boxes and books into your trunk, you ordered Ron and Harry from over your shoulder, “Ron, my potions kit should be under the bed. Harry, run to the bathroom and grab the small bag with butterflies on it, it should have my toothbrush, soap, shampoo, makeup -bathroom stuff. Well?”

The two boys nodded, a little intimidated at the speed you were packing. As Harry Ran to the bathroom, you turned to Ron.

“Do you remember the extra thing on the list this year? Fourth years and up needed…?”

“Don’t remind me. Fourth years and up need dress robes. I hate mine, they’re bloody awful,” he sighed, looking morose as he handed you your cauldron full of potion tools, “I’ll look like an old lady in them. What about you?”

You ran over to the closet, rifling through the jumpers and other clothes, tossing a Mrs.-Weasley-Handmade-Jumper into the trunk, “My mum took me out to get a dress a few days back, it should be...ah yes, here it is,” You pulled out a dress with see-through billowy sleeves and a skirt that went almost to the floor when you wore it, “You think this is good enough?” He raised his eyebrows, nodding.

“It looks nice,” You could tell he wasn’t too interested and agreed only to be polite, but you appreciate the sentiment as you carefully tucked it into your trunk. Harry came back and tossed the bag to you and you added it to your trunk before closing the lid and placing Eros’s cage on top. Sticking your wand back into your hair and slinging your yarn bag over your shoulder, you looked back at the two boys.

“Where are the twins? I thought they would have wanted to come pick me up?”

Ron tossed you the candy bars on your desk before walking to the other side of the trunk and helping you lift it, “Well, mum needed Hermione and Harry to help us get to a muggle house, and I tagged along. They wanted to come, but mum said she wanted to make a good impression on your parents and the last time they picked someone up from a muggle house dad had to go to at least a dozen ministry hearings.”

You chuckled, remembering how back in their third year they stole the car to pick up Harry from his aunt and uncle’s, “That sounds about right, Harry, could you get the door?”

Harry picked up Eros’s cage and held the door wide open as you and Ron waddled the trunk out of your room, stopping as you got to the edge of the stairs.

Your mum, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley turned at the sound of you making your way down the hall. The two witches waved, their faces lighting up as you greeted them, then Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand and waved it gently, “Let me help you with that, dearie,” She smiled as your trunk delicately floated down the stairs.

“(y/n), Mrs. Weasely and Miss-” She looked over at Hermione for a second, before Hermione answered. “Granger,” She smiled politely.

“Yes, Miss Granger just explained to me that their family was going to take you to a...Wizard Football match?” She smiled a little, puzzled by the own words coming out of her mouth, “they offered to have you stay at their house,” She glanced at your trunk and the wide grin on your face, “I take it you’re interested in going?”

You nodded vigorously before pausing, “Is...Is that alright with you?”

She smiled, though it looked a bit forced, “Yes, yes it is. Just make sure you brush up on your real school subjects, please. And do mind your manners.”

You practically squealed, your hands shaking excitedly as you ran to grab your normal shoes (school shoes and dress shoes had been packed in the trunk).

Mrs. Weasely thanked your mum again and the boys and Hermione helped carry your trunk out to the car. Once you had all settled in and started to drive off, Mrs. Weasley looked at you through the rearview mirror.

“Your mum seems like a wonderful lady, but she isn’t too fond of magic, is she?” She asked gently, and you noticed the whole car go a bit quiet.

“No, she isn’t. I think she’d rather I focus more on traditional muggle subjects than magic,” You answered shyly, looking down at the yarn in your bag.

“Ah well, I wouldn’t fret too much over that, dearie. Muggles can be like that sometimes, but she’ll come around,” She offered a smile through the mirror again. Before you knew it, you were back to talking with your younger friends, excitedly asking about their summers as the five of you made your trip back to the burrow.

[shintorikhazumi]

English! AU (1): “My Name is Hannah England.”

A/N: Yeah, it only took me like... 3 years to release this. Wow. Nice. If you’ve seen the OG post for the details for this AU, then you’ve seen it.

Hannah England. I love her.

Enough said.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

"What do you mean I have to come back?!"

An impatient tapping of a foot.

"Well, I can tell you that I bloody won't! Wasn't I removed from the- No! He said it himself. If I were to choose to be a witch, I'd- Mother! NO! Are you listening- Mother I cannot, WILL NOT- We had an agreement!"

She twirled the telephone wire around her finger anxiously until it was so short she had to release it.

No. This could not be happening. No, not now. They had promised! They'd talked about this! This wasn't fair! She had held up her end of the bargain-

"...HAH?! You've sent them to- NO, NO, NO... NO!"

There wasn't even a knock. There was barely even a warning.

It wasn't a cliche breaking down of doors, or smashing of windows, however. It was a swift opening of the door, so fast it barely made a sound.

And there they were.

"N-no..."

"Miss England."

"No... NO! NO, you- YOU CAN'T TAKE ME!"

"These are national orders. I'm afraid there is nothing we can do."

There was nothing she could do.

"W-why..." She choked out, still in a defensive stance, a candleholder held up as a weapon. "We... My grandfather and I agreed on this. I was not to be included in the run-"

"Miss England- no." The bespectacled man caught himself, clearing his throat once before staring at the young girl dead on. "Miss Windsor."

Her eyes widened upon hearing that name, weapon dropping to the floor. She quickly narrowed those same eyes however as she remembered what it meant.

It filled her with rage.

"I- that's no longer-"

"You may only be the fourth in line. However..."

A document was presented to her, with the official signature of... the king... and...

"The prime minister is your primary backer. Do you really think you are in a position to reject?"

"..."

"You have been chosen by most ambassadors."

"Why." It pissed her off. It made her fume. Why. After so long. After all these years. After they'd agreed not to-

"Because according to his majesty... no one is better suited for winning the crown..."

She stepped back as he came forward, grasping her by the arm.

"Than the one who does not want to win the fight for it at all."

//-//-//-//-//

"Hannah? Hannah?" Barbara called out. "We're back?" She went to check Diana's section of the room, the bathroom, and even the closets, hoping to find her best friend in the room. "Hmm... maybe she went for dinner first?"

"Barbara? What's wrong?" Diana walked into the room, brushing some dirt off her coat. This made Barbara automatically check her appearance in the mirror.

"Oh... nothing." Though maybe she should have said that they looked all wrong.

Gosh. They both needed a bath. That five-day mission didn't do their appearances and smells too kindly, it seemed.

She couldn't face Hannah like this. She needed to wash up before meeting the person she'd missed the most these past few days.

Oh, just why did the latest missions have to be pair missions? At least Hannah had gone with Amanda. That put Barbara at ease with regards to her safety. Though, she admitted she was just a little jealous that two of her- ehem- “potential love interests” had been able to go with each other, enjoying themselves without her.

Yes, she’d boldly admit to liking them both.

Sucy’s shaming should never get to her!

Shaking such thoughts and feelings out of her head, she focused on the task at hand. The sooner she got cleaned up, the sooner she could see Hannah! (And Maybe Amanda at dinner, too.)

//-//-//-//-//

A warm shower was only half as good without Hannah.

Ahhhh... just where was she? Barbara could barely wait to sneak into her bed and cuddle 'til daybreak-

"Barbara?" A muffled voice came from the other side of the bathroom door.

Turning the running water off, she replied to the call, "Yes, Diana?"

"Did Hannah mention anything about another mission? I was under the impression she'd just gotten back from the previous one she'd told us about. Or has she not arrived yet?"

Huh? That was strange. Hannah was supposed to have arrived a day or two after she and Diana left.

Wiping herself down and wrapping a towel about her, she exited the steaming room, a frown decorating her features.

"Not that I know of. I didn't notice any notes or letters either..." Now she was beginning to feel strange. "She didn't send any familiar or anything, right?"

Diana mirrored her frown.

"...No. She did not."

A knock came against their door.

"Yes?" Diana answered it as her companion inside quickly got dressed, now in more casual wear.

"Diana! Hannah! Oh, thank goodness you're back!" Akko lunged at her bestfriend, holding tight, that faint blush on the heiress' face going unnoticed. "I was wondering if you knew! I just had to ask! I mean, I'm not that close with her and all yet, but I thought we were friends at least! She didn't say a word! Oh! But I figured you two would know, right? Strange that even Amanda doesn't know... I know they don't always get along, and quarrel and stuff, but Sucy always called them lovers' spats and-"

"Akko." Diana stilled Akko's rambling, grasping her face with both hands, then quickly noticing the intimacy of that gesture and stepping away, releasing the girl. "S-sorry."

"A-ah.. n-no... I-"

"Um... what was... what are you talking about?" Diana tried as she regained her composure. Barbara rolled her eyes fondly at the exchange.

Dorks.

"Oh right!" The girl rushed forward into the room to grab Barbara by the wrist, as well as Diana, dragging them out into the corridors towards the direction of the mess hall.

"Akko?!"

"I wanted to ask you!"

"What?"

They had finally arrived in the dining room, quickly approaching their usual table where the group of friends were gathered about Lotte's magical orb that was now projecting something akin to what one would see on a television screen.

"This!" She pointed.

“What-”

"Why is Hannah on TV?"

"...Huh?!" Barbara suddenly slammed her hands on the table at that sight, surprising everyone including herself because why was Hannah on TV?! And... Why was she next to...

"Also, why did Hannah suddenly have to leave school? It was announced during homeroom for the ones already back from missions."

"What?!" Now Barbara was even more confused. Hannah hadn't mentioned anything about this at all!

"Akko! Shhh!" Lotte scolded, Amanda clamping a hand over their loveable dork's mouth. "We're trying to find out what's going on!"

["The situation in the palace has not been disclosed to the press; however, it seems to be confirmed that dire conditions are currently in place as more and more of the possible successors have returned to the capitol."]

"That reporter is kinda my type- oof!"

"You deserved that." Sucy grinned as Amanda rubbed the sore spot Barbara had inflicted pain on.

"Fuck you."

"No thanks."

["None have been willing to give their statements thus far, but... Oh! We have here the fourth in line! Martin, go get her more focused in the shot since she's the closest- no! Miss Windsor!]

"Windsor?" Akko cocked her head to the side, clearly very confused. "But aren't they calling Hannah? They are calling Hannah... right?"

Barbara didn't really know anymore.

She didn’t know anymore.

Suddenly, a scary looking man came into view, the typical visage of a bodyguard. A low voice growled.

["It was announced that the press was not allowed to interview any of the returning heirs and heiresses. Please return back behind the line."]

["But-"]

The camera view had become shaky, as if the person holding it was being pushed away.

["Miss Windsor! Miss Windsor!"]

["Hey! Didn’t I just-"]

["Miss Hannah Windsor!"]

Barbara stared at the moving image in front of her. This was...There was no mistaking it.

["You're wrong."]

Those words may have seemingly contradicted her inner thoughts, but Barbara knew one thing. This person....

"Hannah..." She murmured, hand clenched over her heart. The girl had spoken up, camera focused on her even at its odd angle. Barbara’s heart couldn’t help but flutter at the voice she’d missed for days. But... it also hurt. To only hear it through a medium like this... “Hannah.”

["You're wrong. My name... isn't Hannah Windsor...] The girl on camera stated with shaky breaths. 

She was right. This wasn’t some Hannah Windsor or someone Barbara didn’t know. This was Hannah England. Her Hannah.

So why...?

[It isn’t that... not... any- oi!"]

“Hannah!” Barbara exclaimed, reaching for a Hannah she couldn’t even touch.

["The press shall not receive any statement from any of the arrivals until further notice. Good day."]

A glasses-wearing man had said before speedily ushering Hannah into the gates, figure going further and further away from Barbara's view.

["We have a scoop! Did you hear that?! Did you-"]

[*beep*]

"Heh... think they got shut down?" Amanda commented, everyone still focused on the now-static-filled projection.

"Maybe. But it's too late to hide some weird statement scandal like that. News spreads annoyingly fast." Sucy responded, taking a bite from her mushroom.

"Still... it's weird." Akko chirped. "Why'd they call Hannah, "Windsor"? That was Hannah, right? Or was she a look-alike? Doppleganger?" She proposed excitedly. "But... she's not here either." She deflated.

The fact that her mission partner, Amanda, was here, and Hannah wasn't ruled out a possibility of it just being a mere double existence.

"Windsor...? WIndsor... Hmmm... Windsor? Why do I feel like I've... heard of that.. before..." Barbara watched Akko wrack her brain for an answer, brows scrunched up in intense thought. "Windsor... that's the name of..."

"The royal family." Diana cut in after having watched everything unfold silently.

"Oh! That's right! The Royal family!" Akko exclaimed, happy to finally get that out of mind... before doing a double take, hurting her neck in the process. "THE ROYAL FAMILY?!"

"Akko, shhh!!"

"She can scream it all she wants, Lotte. Not gonna make a difference." Sucy pointed out. "It's already on the news."

Yes. It was indeed.

The fact that...

//-//-//-//-//

"Miss Hannah England is Royalty. Some of you may have caught wind of this kind of rumors or news." Finnelan spoke during the morning assembly. "This statement is something we have no right to confirm or deny. However, Miss Hannah, has been pulled out of school for personal reasons that shall not be disclosed. No questions shall be asked regarding Miss Eng-Windsor... er... ehem... England anymore.”

“So much for confidentiality and defeating rumors.” Sucy rolled her eyes, Jasminka nodding in agreement next to her.

“That is all. Now, with regards to the third years' mission statuses-"

Barbara had tuned out completely at that point.

Windsor.

Windsor this, Windsor that.

She hated it. Barbara hated it.

Hannah Windsor on news and articles.

Hannah Windsor here. Hannah Windsor... Hannah Windsor... HANNAH WINDSOR.

She... Hannah... Hannah wasn't Hannah Windsor... Hannah was...

"Barbara? Are you okay?" Diana whispered, covering Barbara's clenched one in her own. "Do you want to leave the hall? Get some air?"

"No... I'm fine." Barbara looked up, smiling at Diana unconvincingly. "I'm fine."

“Barbara...”

“Really. I am.”

Barbara ignored Diana’s concerned gazes, not wanting to talk about this anymore.

She could handle this.

She said it herself. She was fine. And she was.

But... even though she said she was fine...

Was Hannah fine?

//-//-//-//-//

["Hey. Nice to meet you."

"...hi..."

"You're rather shy." The girl said with a grin. "You're really pretty too."

She felt herself flush red.

"What's your name?"

"B-Barbara... Barbara... Parker."

"That's a really pretty name, Barbara!" The girl held her hand out for a shake. "Let's get along well!"]

Barbara woke up. with a start, eyes immediately scanning the room, going over the spot next to her on the bed.

Cold. Empty.

Barbara held back a sob, hugging her knees tight to her chest.

Her dream... right. That girl. The one who has been by her side for years now, always there. Always so kind... sort of.

That girl... Barbara's best friend, the one who disappeared all of a sudden, the one who showed up on the news yesterday, who had left Luna Nova... She...

She wasn't Hannah Windsor. No.

She was...

["Oh right! I have to introduce myself as well! Silly me.

Hi! I'll be your friend starting today. And My name is...

Hannah England."]

[k-writer1998]

Who Said Love Was Easy? (2/12)

      There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: 1.7k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

      I’ve been spending more and more time at the pub, partly because I was still trying to coax the weary Jeongin into friendship but also Jaehyung has been inviting me to come over more, his nosy-neighbor-senses kicking in. I’ve nearly broken Jeongin though cause he’s warmed up sufficiently since running into him. Gahyeon on the other hand seems to be cautious around me but as the saying goes “keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” It wasn’t like she was any bad, if anything I could see why Jeongin was so infatuated with her. She gives off girl-next-door vibes minus the naivety. Like Jeongin, she brought in a lot of customers with that personality but as the only female server a lot of guys come through in hopes to be served by her. That meant Jeongin’s eyes were constantly on her, ready to step in at any given moment.

“It’ll be faster if you just start barking at people. Then everyone would think you’re crazy and people won’t pay attention to her. Are you trying to burn holes into her skull?”

“Can you not for one day y/n?” he rolled his eyes.

“I’ll stop if you stop first,” I wink before adding, “If anyone so much as looked at her the wrong way Chan, Younghyun, and Jaehyung would be there in seconds you know.”

“There’s just been a lot more creeps lately and it’s been really packed.”

“It can’t be helped. It’s summer vacation for college students so everyone’s going out to de-stress from exams. Why so overprotective anyways?”

“She got bullied in high school. She’s the type to say what she wants so a lot of the girls didn’t like her and a lot of the guys bad mouthed her because she rejected them bluntly.”

“Oh? she looks so pleasant I would’ve taken her as a pushover.”

“Wait why am I even telling you this?” He blinked a few times at the realization.

“Because we’re good friends obviously,” I leaned forward with a smile.

“Whatever, I’m telling the hyungs you dropped the honorifics.”

“No you aren’t.”

      There was a call from the kitchen and he briskly walked away. I shrugged it off since he was still working after all but as I watched his figure disappear into the kitchen, the next thing I knew Jaehyung bursted from the door and stormed over. My mouth fell agape at Jeongin who was watching me from the kitchen door snickering to himself. Snitch.

“l/n y/n!”

“Jaehyung-oppa listen-”

      Safe to say I was thoroughly lectured but it was worth it to know I made him smile… albeit because of my sorrow but minor details. Jaehyung asked to go home together again so I sat quietly in my corner seat as they had a store meeting. Watching them interact, now and throughout my time here, their dynamic was really something. Jaehyung and Younghyun act like they hate each other and are at each other’s throats yet they match each other’s energy to work perfectly together, Chan is like the middle child who acts like the youngest but will step up when needed, Jimin always butts heads with everyone but she still makes sure everyone is cared for, and lastly there are the two newest members Jeongin and Gahyeon… long term friends from school with the same sunshine type energy that every one of the older employees love to dote on like some dysfunctional… family… 

      Allowing my mind to fill itself with thoughts of Jeongin recently, I nearly forgot what time of year it was. Almost. My thoughts betrayed me and not wanting to make Jaehyung’s worrying/nagging worse I stepped out into the summer night. First it was just the loneliness setting in but it's different now with certain annoyances making an appearance last year. It’s like they’re watching and waiting… haunting me to make sure I can’t be happy for the rest of my life. All because of something I had no control over. As I tried to collect myself before I went down the family trauma rabbit hole, I received a text notification and rolled my eyes at the message. A strong urge to throw my phone came over me as my vision blurred red for a second and felt my arm raise for a moment, phone in hand, before a voice brought me back to my senses.

“Regardless of whatever you saw on there, I would advise you not to break your phone unless you can afford a new one.”

      Of all the people, he was not the one I pegged as someone who would’ve followed me out here. My brain was racing to pull itself together, still spiralling from the earlier train of thought, that my response exposed how confused I was.

“Jeongin? What are you doing out here? Aren’t you guys having a meeting?” 

“Yeah but hyung keeps looking to make sure you don’t leave so I decided to take one for the team and tell you to come back in so he can focus.”

“And here I thought you came out for me,” I joke as my arm falls back to my side, my snarky smartass persona finally loading up again.

“Whatever makes you happy,” he rolls his eyes before asking, “Is something going on though? You almost threw your phone and hyung usually isn’t this antsy with you.”

      He noticed? I couldn’t help the small surge of happiness that shot through me but of all the things why did he have to notice this? As tense as I was at his observation, I threw on my usual smile and did what I did best.

“Awww so we really are friends, you care,” I tease and he glared back at me. “Everything’s fine, really. Jaehyung-oppa thinks I get kinda weird around this time of year cause something happened last year. He’ll be back to normal by next week.”

“... okay. Are you gonna stay out here? We’re basically done anyways,” he responded as he glanced at the group inside before eyeing me suspiciously.

“Yeah, let him know please. Also let him know to stop being a worrywart.”

“Tell him that yourself.”

      With a huff he walked back in and I was finally able to relax. Leaning against the window with a sigh, I wished it was winter so I could watch the smoke curl from my lips into the air. It’s oddly calming to watch it disappear and to feel the chill set in my bones. Instead I’m left with the stifling heat of summer and the slightly unsettling thought that Jeongin possibly saw through the act… I’m such a mess. I want him to pay attention to me and now that he has I’m getting antsy. Well this is the only exception I guess, Jaehyung only knows cause he saw it happen. If I had it my way no one would know. Once in the safety of my four walls, I fell into my bed with a groan. Today kinda sucked but I knew it would only get worse until that day comes. Looking at my desk in the corner of the living room with unfinished work strewn across its surface, I let out a sigh. Might as well work to get my mind off it.

      Ding. Ding. Ding. Drowsily raising my head from my desk, I rubbed my eyes in annoyance. The sun was up and Jaehyung knew my door code so who is being so irritating this early? Looking at the intercom monitor, I should’ve known it would be one of those vermin. With a groan I went to “greet” my half-sister, clad in her expensive private school uniform, as I glared and leaned against the door frame.

“To what do I owe the honor of a visit from the princess herself?”

“You weren’t answering mom’s messages and she wanted to make sure you’d be coming home for dinner this weekend.”

“Let me guess. Grandma is invited so I have to show up to make you people look good? Not interested so leave.”

“Don’t act so high and mighty. If you didn’t want to be a part of this family you shouldn’t have-”

“Get it right,” I sneered. “Your mother kicked me out for being a reminder of her husband’s infidelity and was forced to sign away my rights to the family and shares left to me in dad’s will just so I could get the money he left me for college. I’m sorry I actually care to visit dad besides his death anniversary and happen to run into grandma, nothing changes the fact that I’m the illegitimate child right? So run along before you’re late.”

      She stamped her foot and huffed at my indifferent face and challenging tone before turning on her heel and stomping to the elevator. I tiredly rubbed my face before running a frustrated hand through my hair. I did not need this first thing in the morning. Back inside my apartment, I grabbed my phone and called my best friend.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this early morning wakeup call?” He groaned in annoyance. We both weren’t morning people.

“How early can we hang out?”

“Depends. On a scale of “I miss you” to “I want to pull my hair out,” how bad is it?”

“Younghee blew up my doorbell at seven in the morning to tell me to have dinner with them.”

“Oof. I’m shadowing my dad today but tomorrow night for sure, okay? I promise we’ll have fun and you can forget about them. ”

“Our handsome Changbinie is so great~ This is why you’re my best friend.”

“Shut up, I’m still two years older and I’m your only friend y/n.”

“No, I have Jaehyung-oppa and the others from the pub!”

“How can you be friends with someone who doesn’t like your best friend? I didn’t even do anything to Jaehyung-hyung to be hated like this.”

“I don’t like you and you are my best friend.”

“I- Nope, you love me by default because I’m the only one who knows all your secrets,” he countered.

“Who said you’re the only one?”

“Lover boy doesn’t count. He was drunk and probably doesn’t remember plus it’s not like you’ll see him again.”

“Wrong. I can since I have~”

“Young master, President Seo says you must get ready.”

“That’s me,” he groans, “you better catch me up! Maybe your life won’t be a revenge drama afterall," he gasped teasingly. "Is it a romantic comedy?”

“Shut up, does that make you the second lead dearest best friend?” He faked a gag and I chuckled, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

[oohfluffy]

TIHM Ch.10 | BBH

Group: EXO

Member: Byun Baekhyun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Rated M | University!AU | Football!AU

Word Count: 1,930

chapter 10

You grumbled on the table, your face plastered on it as you pushed your papers on the side. You were in the middle of accomplishing your genetics assignment when you felt exhausted all of a sudden.

It was already Friday, and you woke up at 8 to finish your pending school works before going to your class at 12. After your only class on Friday, you'll be running to your work at 4. Aunt Jinah scheduled your shifts at MTFS, 3 hours on Monday and Tuesday nights, and 5 hours on Friday and Saturday, afternoon to night. It was manageable, though a bit tiring. You just motivated yourself to be used to it.

You almost pushed yourself off of your seat when a mug of hot chocolate was placed beside your face. Your eyes quickly looked at the good samaritan, and softened at the sight of your distant best friend. You haven't heard her gossips and late night talks for the past few days. You wonder if she's still—

"I don't like this." Jiwon mumbled as she sat on the chair across yours. She looked back at you with solemn eyes. "You know I love you, right? I care for you."

"So do I, Jiwon-ah." You sighed, looking at the smoke the heat from the mug emits. "I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore—"

"Oh shut up. This is not where we end our friendship, Saejin!" Jiwon incredulously exclaimed, her eyes wide in displeasure. "We made it work alright these years, right? I'm not gonna leave you alone, either you like it or not!"

You let out a cry as you opened your arms for your best friend, immediately feeling warm because of her embrace. She hugged you tight as if she was getting all her energy from you. You pouted your lips in attempt of refraining yourself to sob louder.

"Even if those people continue to leave you in the dark, I won't. I'll be here, Saejin."

You smiled through your tears, nuzzling your head to Jiwon's shoulder. 

"I know you will be. I know."

—

"Oh really?! That's pretty embarrassing!" Hyoseop laughed out loud, slapping his thighs as he doubled over the couch. "I wouldn't want to see anyone after that!"

You just finished telling him how embarrassing your first date was, two months ago. You were too nervous to greet the guy that you pretended you weren't his date by looking away from his gaze, and spilling your coffee on your chest after. You tried looking casual as you wiped your wet chest, until your date finally approached your way. You couldn't handle the embarrassment and rushed out of the shop as soon as he opened his mouth.

"He was kind of cute, but then," You admitted as you chuckled. "probably wasn't the best time to meet me." Leaning comfortably against the cushion, you just found yourself relaxed with his presence.

"When will it be the best time to meet you then?"

Your head snapped back to him in surprise, but immediately pushing any malicious thoughts about what he said.

It's not like he's going to ask me out, right.

"Hmm," You hummed as you calmed yourself before answering. "maybe when I'm ready?"

"When will that happen?"

You started sweating bullets at his question, looking away from his penetrating gaze. 

"Uh, next year?" You stupidly said with a nervous laugh, just trying to get away from the question as fast as you can. You thought that Hyoseop will be laughing with you, but then he didn't. You slowly turned your head to him, uncertain of what was his reaction.

He just nodded with a small smile, eyes gentle as he looked at you.

"I'll be waiting then."

You swore that your heart stopped beating at that moment.

—

"So as I was saying, this new recruit in our squad just feels like she's so pretty that she treats anyone she thinks ugly like shit." Jiwon complained loudly as she walked beside you in the hallways. "Her name's Lisa by the way. Just so you know who the bitch is."

"Uhuh." You mumbled as she continued to drag you along with her. She wanted to walk you to your room, and you just let her do what she wants so she doesn't whine. 

"I think she's so gonna click with your bitch friends." Jiwon laughed crazily as she shook her head. "Haven't seen those girls for a while."

You almost cursed out loud as you saw them come out of the room. It sucks to see those devils most of the time. They just walked past you both, glaring as Jiwon raised her eyebrows at them.

"It's so scary how devils suddenly appear as you speak of them." She mumbled as she rolled her eyes. "They didn't try anything to you again, did they?"

You darted your eyes instantly on your right wrist, flipping it on the other side, so it would be hidden. Thankfully, Jiwon didn't see and continued on blabbering until you were both inside the room. She just sat beside you, waving at people she knew and they politely greeted back.

How two-faced these people are.

"They didn't, did they, Saejin-ah?" Jiwon asked once again with her serious face. You just smiled before shaking your head.

"No, they didn't."

You'll be avoiding those people from now on, anyway. 

It wouldn't matter.

As soon as the bell rang, you took your things and went out quietly. You didn't want to waste time and be caught up with any of Irene's shit again. You looked up at the round clock as you walked past the corner, 3:34 pm. You walked briskly, calculating how fast your walk should be to be able to catch bus—

"Oof!"

Of course you wouldn't be so lucky to be Baekhyun-free today.

His eyes widened as yours just turned into slits. You quickly picked up your bag and walked past him. He looked like he saw a ghost as he bumped into you. He seemed to be in a rush as well. 

We can just treat each other as strangers now.

"Saejin! Wait!"

You glanced around and noticed how some students looked at you in wonder. Probably thinking why is a Byun Baekhyun, the quarterback from the football team, running after you. You let out a frustrated sigh before turning to an empty hallway. 

"SAE—"

"I'm here, stop shouting." You grumbled as you leaned at the wall, tapping your foot impatiently. As soon as he entered the hallway, you looked at his back and confirmed that no one was looking anymore. "What? Wasn't I clear—"

Without consent, Baekhyun gently took your right hand, his hand carefully turning it to the side for a better look. As if he knew what he was looking for.

"What the hell—"

"Who did this? You didn't, did you? Was it them again?!" Baekhyun angrily questioned you, his once gentle eyes hardened in a second. His voice turned deeper and much lower than his chirpy and energetic tone. His touch was warm and light against your skin, contrasting his voice and eyes full of rage. "I'm gonna—"

"What? Kick them out again?" You voiced out the concern of those girls, gritting your teeth as you refuse to be affected by his kindness and worry. "Stop worrying—"

"Why can't I? When you're like this?" Baekhyun let out a humorless chuckle, eyes drifting towards your eyes. You couldn't find it in yourself to pull away from his grasp. It felt okay. You felt safe. "Who would want to leave you alone?"

Maybe because you're too weak, it gets kind of exhausting for people to care for you.

Maybe that's why they betray you. Maybe they couldn't handle your fragile heart.

Maybe you are the problem.

"Let me in, Saejin-ah."

You looked back into his eyes, seeing nothing but clear sincerity and care. You swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking, afraid your voice will break.

"Why would you want that, Baekhyun-ssi?" You whispered, lips slightly quivering under his gaze. "Why would you want to care so much?"

Baekhyun pursed his lips as he stared at you silently. You weren't expecting an answer to be honest. You just want to let out the questions bugging you from the start. Why would he, right? No one would be kind enough to approach you with pure intentions like those people around you. Everyone here knew about your past, about your scandal with a senior, who was allegedly drugged by you.

Unless Baekhyun didn't know about it.

Your eyes teared up as you looked away from him. Maybe he didn't know about it. That should explain his kindness. If he knew, he would be like everyone else.

Or maybe he likes you—

"I don't know how this happened." Baekhyun sighed as he caressed your injured hand, looking down at the neatly wrapped bandage on your wrist. "It's kinda your fault, you know."

"What?!" You almost hit him with your other hand, eyebrows twitching as your tears went back in your eye sockets. He was making you this riled up in a few sentences, huh.

"You wouldn't stop playing around in my head." Baekhyun chuckled as he looked at you through his lashes, a smile forming on his lips. Your lips parted in surprise at his confession. 

"W-What the hell are you saying?"

"I think I like you, Saejin-ah." He proudly admitted as he tugged on your hand gently towards him. Your eyes remained wide as he stared into them admiringly. "Damn, you just won't stop.  I was certain I'm going crazy already." 

As much as you want to push him away and shout some profanities you haven't said to anyone, you couldn't make yourself move away and speak bravely. It was like he sucked every piece of courage you had in yourself, turning the tables his way and to his advantage. He was messing with your brain and feelings BIG TIME.

WHO WAS HE KIDDING? HE LIKES ME? DOES HE THINK I'M THAT STUPID? HE WAS FREAKING MAKING OUT WITH DIFFERENT GIRLS LAST FEW DAYS! I COULDN'T EVEN COUNT THEM ALL! THIS FUCKING BASTARD!

"I can see that you're swearing at me with your eyes, baby." Baekhyun mumbled under his breath, chuckling as he saw your other hand forming into a fist. 

"Glad that you know." You jabbed his stomach with your elbow, earning a pained grunt. "I'm—"

Baekhyun still stared expectantly at you, slightly wincing at the pain on his abs. You looked away, stepping back to regain your space. You wouldn't want to be that close again with him, you'll probably faint.

"—accepting you as an acquaintance then."

His eyes lit up at your declaration until he realized that his love confession was ignored. He opened his mouth to ask when you shushed him. You looked at the clock near the corner and huffed.

"I'll forget what you just said earlier. I'm rushing for work. Bye." You said in one breath before running past him, not giving him the chance to say anything back. Baekhyun just let out a chuckle as he slowly looked at your back, eyes crinkling in delight.

"At least I'm an acquaintance, huh?" He mumbled at himself, glancing down at his hand that caressed yours. "Byun Baekhyun as your acquaintance. Hmp." He pitied himself for being acquaintance-zoned, shaking his head incredulously. "Step up your game, Byun!" He laughed before walking back to the main hallway with a smile on his face.

It's not that bad.

As long as you didn't say no.

—

♫ Ch.11

[hopetofantasy]

Wandering Romance

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans   Trigger Warnings (if applicable): none applied.   Created for @skamevents Summary: “A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.”  

In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.  

So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?

Also available on AO3

—————————————————————

CHAPTER 2: 'No one sees what I see in you’

—————————————————————

“So this is it then?”

A beautiful boy with mesmerizing eyes lying in arms. The warmth of love. It felt like puzzle pieces finally fitting together, after months of frustration and searching for anything that might look like it. Something that had been missing for quite some time. It just didn’t add up? Long sighs, hurtful eyes, loaded silences that made them more sad than happy. Their love wasn’t strong enough to deal with this...

No, he didn’t believe that.

They were strong enough.

Just not now...

He was caressing the cheek of his lover, his best friend, his partner in crime. Another part of the pair, the amazing family they had. Fathers. Their boy. All tossed away, like it was nothing. A paper crumbled in the trash. Like they never even were. And because of what? Why? Why now? Why this? This wasn’t right. They both knew it wasn’t.

He sighed to stop the spiraling.

His hands started to clench into a fist. He was so angry at first, he was so angry and sad at the world. He was promised forever, they both promised each other that their love would survive anything. The perfect man in a beautiful white suit and him wearing the black one. Ying and yang. Always complimenting each other, begging for a deeper connection, receiving it and now cutting it away.

Like his heart.

“Is this it? Can’t we keep trying? Please?”

His eyes were staring inside those deep ones. His tanned skinned hand slightly caressing his lover’s arm. Mindlessly. They were used to pillow talk until the early morning, the sunrise. The night sky turning from dark blue to light orange hues, exactly the color he once made by accident, trying out the paint samples on his palette. A beautiful coincidence. Just like the night they met.

As if faith knew.

When the other boy didn’t answer, he just went for it. His lips trying to convey everything he felt inside the troubled mind, his hands feeling every hitched breath taken away from his other half, the softness of a wanted caress, but also the sting from nails digging in his back, the bite of pleasure, the strained movement of legs  - as if love couldn’t be felt without some pain. It suited them, he thought. Every day could be a high. Every day could be a low.

His fingers gripped the sheets of their shared bed. Sharing it for the last time.  

“Oh my god, schat”, exclaimed the one.

“I love you”, answered the other.

“I love you too”, was moaned.

“Don’t leave me, please”, was said.

A tear rolling off a heated cheek.

Kissed by soft eyelashes.

The silence that followed wasn’t wounding. It was passion, it was love, it was a high that never experienced a low. A white light behind the eyes. Stars for their lights. Something shared only between them. And never would be again.

“Let us go... please”

The whisper.

And that’s when Sander woke up from his dream.

When he started to cry.

-^-

“Papa, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, darling, always. What is it?”

“How did you and paps meet?”

Oof, that was such a loaded question for a Monday morning. And he didn’t even have his first coffee yet. His eyes instantly analyzed David’s face, which was just a pure reflection of playfulness and wonder. The tiny boy seemed to concoct something on his breakfast croissant. It looked like choco spread, decorated with speculaas cookies.

What is this? Where the hell did he get that idea? This can’t be healthy right?

“Sweetie, did you eat a hearty sandwich before shoving this in your mouth? You can’t live on sweets, you know that. You won’t grow to be a big boy, then!”

“But, papa, I like it. Can I have this, like... one time?”

Oh no, not the puppy eyes.

He was a real manipulator with those big brown orbs. The kid was 9 years old, for God’s sake, how could he be this smart? He knew exactly how to play the game to convince them of mischievous things, things that were bad for him and stuff they needed to say ‘no’ to. But it was sooo rewarding to just say ‘yes’. Just to see the beautiful grin creep up onto the face he loved so much.

Something Sander wanted to collect in a jar and pull out whenever he had his ‘cloudy days’. David didn’t understand the concept of bipolarity yet, so once he was old enough to notice something, they had sat him down to explain. “David, sweetie. You know how papa is sometimes a bit different?”, Robbe tried to approach the subject, while their son stared with unsung tears in his eyes.

“Yeah, he lies on the bed and sleeps and don’t eat and is very, very sad. I don’t understand. Does papa hate me? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry...”

If the room was a stethoscope, the family would’ve heard a heart breaking. It was one thing that Robbe had to deal with his mania and depression. Now another innocent soul was being corrupted by his stupid brain and Sander just couldn’t deal with that. The pain he might induce, the worry in his soul almost growing too much. But as always, his other half seemed to know what to do. While holding his hand, to anchor him back to this world, Robbe explained.

“No, darling. Papa will always love you. Even if you did bad things. But now you didn’t do anything wrong, okay? You see, people have a bright sun inside them. And sometimes that happy, beautiful sun will have clouds blocking their light. Clouds who bring in bad weather, like being tired, not being hungry, not wanting to talk, have sad thoughts, just wanting to sleep all the time. And that’s okay. Because after a few days of rain, comes the sunshine, right?”

“And sometimes a rainbow!”, their beautiful boy exclaimed.

A couple of teeth missing in the front, but his smile was beaming nonetheless. It melted their hearts. “Yes,” Sander whispered softly. If he wasn’t sure about how much he loved his curly angels before, he knew now. When did he become so lucky to have such beautiful love? Him and his loving partner hugging their soft boy, giggling all together, without a care in the world. A fulfilling life.

Perfection.

“Papa, are you there?”

Sander blinked back some tears, while trying to focus on the situation at hand. David was glaring at him, already halfway through the disgustingly sweet croissant in his hands. Some crumbs were falling down the plate. And the choco paste tainting his pink cheeks. The look in his face was peculiar, like he tried to figure out what his dad was thinking. If he was going ‘cloudy’.

“David... I do remember that I never told you ‘yes’, right?”

The answer was a simple shrug.

“You didn’t answer my question about paps, either. C’est la vie.”

To say that Sander was perplexed, is an serious understatement.

-^-

When Sander was thirteen, he knew.

He wasn’t normal.

This was way before he was diagnosed with bipolarity, but that wasn’t the only thing not fitting the ‘standard normal’. He knew the boys in his class and he simply didn’t like them. They were all talking about video games, Call Of Duty: Black Ops, while eating their weight in greasy snacks and referring to girls like pieces of meat. Making jokes about what they learned from their older siblings or watching too much nighttime television.

And he didn’t.

He liked to write, he wanted to be a writer someday. And paint. Drawing was amazing. Sander loved walking around with cut jeans, graphic band t-shirts and a bleached buzzcut. One day, he’d love to have a pierced eyebrow. That was considered cool in his book. Maybe his career would be ‘rock-and-roll’ artist, since he played the drums too. Something to get his energy out.

Because he had ADHD.

At least, that’s what his doctor said. He just wanted different things than others and sometimes all at once. Was that weird? Apparently so. But he wasn’t entirely convinced about having the disorder. It sounded ill-fitting. Like a shrunken skinny jeans in the dryer, the broken mug in his room where he put his discarded pencils. It didn’t make sense.

Because he was who he was.

He liked who he was.

But who was he exactly?

He knew the day he changed schools. His mom somehow knew, the way only mothers do, that the previous school wasn’t the right fit for him. His course orientation was ‘sciences’ and he almost failed everyone of his classes. Sander was struggling to keep afloat. Almost drowning at the formulas and facts and figures. Those were more abstract to him than art. Art made sense, somehow?

And that’s why his mom send him to an art school.

There he saw people with asymmetric hair, nose rings and cut t-shirts. Girls with alluring auras, rainbow shoes and paint covered arms. Boys with mesmerizing eyes, fresh make-up and decorated backpacks. Beautiful souls who talked about art like breathing. Who understood things like writer’s block, portrait frustration and tunnel vision.

And he fell in love with them, all of them.

His people.

It took him a few years to understand what else made him special. Because he did fall in love with people’s souls, their auras, instead of a specific gender. It was a highlight in his life when he figured that one out. He finally knew another piece of the puzzle. Life was complicated, but knowing something more about yourself, made it so much easier.

His first crush was on a dark skinned boy from his drawing class. He didn’t reciprocate feelings, but liked Sander as a friend. Ekon appreciated the way Sander caught him in his art pieces. Complimented him on how he perfectly attained his off-beat smile, when someone made a joke at his expense. He was a quiet boy. But a boy, nonetheless.

And then there was Saartje. An unconventional girl, even for an art school. She seemed to walk around like an ice queen surrounded by raging fires. Hated every thing he suggested to lift her sculptures to a new level, always answering his comments with a cold stare. Such a soft girly name for such a raging bitch.

And Sander couldn’t help but fall.

Hard.

Without parachute.

But she used that to her advantage.

His love was treated as an exchange. If Sander would shut up about his newest passion called David Bowie, she’d give him a kiss. When he asked her on a date, she would think about it. Maybe if Sander could persuade the teacher to give her a better grade? And if he paid? Being the hormonal teenager he was, he obliged. And he believed. He was tricked into uncertain love.

Something he carried with him.

Especially after his eventual diagnosis. He dated Britt. He thought he deserved this kind of love. The uncertainty, the doubt, the hardships. It was all his brain’s fault, for being the way he was. Love? Love was something to be earned, not to be given. And nobody would give that up so easily for someone as broken as him.

Until that one boy,

in the moonlight.

He never saw true beauty ‘til this night.

And his heart,

did love as true again.

-^-

“Do you want any help with that?”

“Papa, I know how to make myself look like Bowie, you know.”

Sander snorted. He was truly a son of his, wasn’t he? This tiny boy was sitting on a high chair, right in front of a mirror, attempting to put on the make-up in a dramatic way. The tip of his tongue spilling out his lips, trying very hard to focus. He couldn’t stop staring at this sight, which filled him with pride. He must have taught him well.

The next generation was secured.

“Dad, stop staring at me and go find my other dad.”, David said sternly.

Ok, but who was the parent in this relationship exactly? Sometimes Sander didn't know. Yet, catching the eye of the supervisor right behind him, he was sure that everything was going to be a-okay. Maybe he did needed to find Robbe and the boys. It’ll do him some good. It had been ages since they had some real interaction that wasn’t through a phone.

It wasn’t difficult to spot them through the crowd of curious adults. The exaggerated screaming at each other was enough. Robbe had been pulled into the biggest hug by Milan, flanked by a jumping Moyo, giggling Aaron and a serious Jens. It sounded like the weirdest end of the world. But the feeling that coursed through his heart wasn’t unusual.

Pride.

For what they all achieved.

How they all stayed together.

Through hell and back.

Moyo had, somehow, become a successful club owner of a couple of nightlife establishments all around the city. From an only-known-by-initiates speakeasy to a high paid, high-end sky club, he knew what he wanted to do with his life and brought it to the table. Jens, on the other hand, went on a totally different route. After failing to start a few start-ups, he became g a video editing/sound mix freelancer and stay-at-home dad to help his lawyer-wife.

Aaron was still on the grind as a social worker, working until late at night to fight for the hardest cases. “These people deserve a happy ending”, he’d always say. And Sander couldn’t agree more.

Last but not least, Milan. The interior designer with an ecological mind. He had helped them out with the decoration of their home, which was totally picture perfect. And still cheap as f.

After the whole ordeal of greeting, Robbe seemed to have a huge smile plastered on his face. That was good, Sander though. Lately he looked so lost, certainly in Sander’s neighborhood. And he didn’t know why. As far as he knew, he didn’t say or do anything wrong. On the contrary. He’d encouraged Robbe to bring Wouter along, saying it was totally okay to find love again.

Where was that bastard, anyways?

“Heeeeeey, Jack Frost!”, the entire group turned towards him and engulfed him into an instant hug. Causing a lot of high pitched giggling, ‘omg, your hand is on my butt’-s and eye rolls. The warmth next to him was familiar, though. As was the scent. Which made his heart drum a little harder, like it wasn’t stating the obvious already. Pulling away, the electrified gaze lingered.

“How are you?”, the one asked.

“I’m good.”, the other answered.

He wanted to know more. Sander always wanted to know more. His heart never stopped beating for this boy, so everything he would say, would be engraved in his soul. His broken mind. His eternal love. That would never change. Even through the pain, he knew that they belonged together. That it was neither fault. Life just happened.

Like always.

But before he could ask anything else, a woman approached the brown haired man. Some colorful glasses, a beautiful classic dress and an intrigued smile on her face. Robbe immediately greeted her as ‘Mrs. Raymaeckers’. “I saw David backstage. Are you ready to see the performance, Mr. Ijzermans?”, she politely asked. Robbe slowly nodded his head with a careful smile.

“Ofcourse, David is going to be amazing, he was bouncing off the walls about this. I’m interested in what he’s going to play...”

“Ah yes. The David Bowie thing. He’s truly special, isn’t he? Unique in some ways.”, she giggled, while wrapping her hand around his arm. Causing a lot of heads unsubtly turning towards the gesture.

“I love how he has such a playful spirit. Does he have that from his father or his mother?”. She blinked rapidly. Auburn hair tossed over her shoulder. A beaming smile.

Wait...

Was she...

Trying to flirt with him?

A potential married man?

Sander saw how the other boys desperately held in their laughs. Some of them failed. Robbe’s cheeks reddened slightly, like he didn’t know how to answer this delicate question.

She just assumed he was straight?

That was such heteronormativity.

It irked the beach blonde man, that people could still think this way, like a child couldn’t have two fathers or mothers?

“He has that from me, actually.”

Six pairs of eyes bore into his. Most of them applauding the ballsy move on his part, one of them grateful for this way out. The last one, however, went through a whole process.

Confusion, calculation, realization and shame.

“Oh... I’m sorry.”, Mrs. Raymaeckers sheepishly stated. "I didn’t know. I just assumed... Ahem. Well, I’m gonna check the rest. Bye, Mr Ijzermans. Bye, Mr-”

“Driesen.”, he answered coldly.

“Bye, Mr. Driesen.” And with that, she was gone. As fast as the wind.

He didn’t like it.

He just didn’t.

How people could still think the way they did, how they would just come up to potential married men and flirt with them? How was that okay?

He knew he was clenching his fist, because of the pain. Fingernails making tiny half moons. It stung. Jealousy and anger tasting like poison in his mouth. His stare trying to find a fixated spot to calm his breathing.

He found it in some deep brown eyes.

A cautious smile coming towards him. He knew. Robbe always knew what Sander needed, even when he didn’t know himself. He was intuitive that way. His beautiful man, such a perfect human. The father of his child. And he couldn’t help, but sigh. Breathing slowly, heart thumping. A small caress around his fist, trying to soften the harsh ache. Only making the ache in his heart greater.

“Robbe”, he whispered silently.

“Yeah, Sander?”

He didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t. Robbe needed to live his own life, making his own mistakes, battle his own prejudices. Feeling his own real love. So Sander just stood there. Looking at the face he adored the most and he started to notice something. It almost looked like Robbe was anticipating this, was waiting for some kind of answer, some kind of truth.

And that's when they heard it.

A David Bowie lookalike coming onto the stage.

Childlike coughing in the microphone.

The first notes of a guitar riff.

The scratchy start of ‘doodoodoo''.

The song.

David Bowie.

The sign.

“You've got your mother in a whirl She's not sure if you're a boy or a girl Hey babe, your hair's alright Hey babe, let's go out tonight You like me, and I like it all We like dancing and we look divine You love bands when they're playing hard You want more and you want it fast They put you down, they say I'm wrong You tacky thing, you put them on.

Rebel rebel, you've torn your dress Rebel rebel, your face is a mess Rebel rebel, how could they know? Hot tramp, I love you so!”

[your-local-grubdog]

Koppaite Holidays: Linlina

Part of a series where I explore holidays the koppaits celebrate. 

Also available on Ao3.

Summary: Alph invites Brittany and Charlie to meet his siblings during Koppai’s midsummer celebration! Shenanigans happen. 

Parings: Alph/Charlie, Brittay/OC (except the OC exists in cannon but she's only mentioned in passing and has no name or even a personality so like. Idk man)

Other Notes: Siblings will be siblings

Charlie hummed a bit as he looked out the window. Alph was next to him, driving the car. The AC was turned up as high as it could go to help combat the heat. It was midsummer – down to the day – and it was typically the hottest day of the year on Koppai. While midsummer brought unbearable heat, it also brought with it a holiday – Linlina. It was the day that the shorter lived, summer fruits would be harvested. It was also the half-way point for the full harvest in the fall.  

Celebrations varied across Koppai’s regions, and even across individual families.  There was one consistency – the gathering of families. In the past, it was to help out with the harvest. And many do gather to help each other harvest, but most koppaits were no longer farmers. So they just gathered for the fun of it, to spend time together and catch up.

“Are we there yet?” Brittany asked from the back seat.  

“Just about.” Alph replied.  

They were silent for a moment. Then, “Do I really have to be in the back?”

“Yes.” Alph smiled a little, “It’s my car and I say that my boyfriend gets to ride in the front with me.”

“Does that make me the third wheel?”

“Yes.” Charlie finally spoke up. “Yes you are.”

Brittany made a face. “Well then.”

“It’s true.” Charlie simply shrugged.  

“AAAAND WE’RE HERE!” Alph pipped up, trying to talk over the other two.

They all filed out of the car, and Charlie took the chance to look around the neighborhood. It was a particularly dense part of the suburbs, filled with tall narrow houses that had small yards.  

“It’ll be nice to see your siblings again.” Brittany stretched a little. “Your sister was very nice.”

“She is a sweetheart.” Alph hummed a little. “She watched over my cat while we were on PNF-404.” He walked up to the door of the house they parked at, and gently knocked on it. It quickly swung open wide, and a middle-aged man who looked a little like Alph greeted the three.

“Alph! There you are, we were wondering if you would show up!” He smiled wide.  

“Well, we had to pick Brittany up from her aunt’s firs- oof.” The engineer staggered back a bit as two children ran out and hugged him.  

“Uncle Alph! Uncle Alph!” they both squealed in unison.  

“Hey you two.” Alph ruffled the boy’s hair. “You’ve been behaving?”

“I have!” the little girl squealed. “He hasn’t though.”  

“Hey!” The boy squealed. “Yes I have!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough kids.” The man sighed and pulled them back a little. “Why not run out to the back yard and play with your cousins, okay?”

“Okayyyyyy.” The twins whined, then ran back inside.  

Alph laughed a little, and beckoned Charlie and Brittany to come closer. “He wasn’t able to make it to our liftoff or return, but this is my eldest brother, Upsilon!”

Upsilon smiled a bit. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Brittany and Charlie. Please, come inside.”

He stepped out of the way and they all entered the house. Charlie stared a bit as he looked around. He knew Alph had a big family but... he didn’t realize just how big. There were just so many people all crammed together in the house.  

“Well, how about I start introducing you guys to my other-”

“Ah! There’s your sister!” Brittany said, cutting him off. “I’m going to go talk to her. Bye!” and before he could do anything she sprinted off.  

“... oh... okay then.” Alph’s ears twitched. “Uh, did you still want to meet them, Charlie?”

“Of course!”

Alph smiled a little bit. He then grabbed Charlie’s hand and led him straight over to a corner where a pair of identical twins were. They didn’t seem to be that much older than Alph. “Hey! Eta! Zeta!”  

The two of them looked up. “Hey Alph.” One of them spoke. “Is that your boyfriend or somethin’?”  

Alph looked up at Charlie, who nodded in response. “Yeah, yeah he is! Brittany is here too but she ran off to talk to Theta.”  

“Ah, I sense that those two are close.” The other twin hummed.  

The first twin rolled his eyes. “Anyone with two brain cells could see that, Eta.”  

Charlie stared for a moment. “So wait, which one of you two is Zeta and which one is Eta?”  

The one raised his hand. “I’m Zeta.” he was wearing a black shirt with a skull pattern on it, and there was a chain attached to his jeans. He also had a lower lip peircing.  

“And I’m Eta.” The other one put a hand to his chest. His clothes were a dark purple and somewhat flowy.

“Okay... I think I can keep track of that...” Charlie crossed his arms as he spoke. 

“Don’t feel bad if you can’t. There’s like, fifteen-million of us.” Zeta waved his hand around.  

Alph then patted Charlie’s arm. “It’ll be fine. You’ll get it eventually.” Charlie looked down and smiled softly, then yelped as Alph dragged him off. “Time to meet more siblings now!”  

Alph hummed a bit as he looked around. Then he spotted a sibling and dragged Charlie over there, calling out “Hey! Iota!”

The sibling lifted his head up. “Hmm?” he was wearing a plain grey tank top, and was surrounded by three other koppaits in similar dress.  

“This is Charlie!” Alph squeaked a little. “Charlie, this is Iota and his partners.”  

Iota smirked a bit, waving his hand. “Hey man.”  

Charlie waved back.  

“Hmm, hey Alph? Mind if I talk to him for a bit? Just him.” Iota crossed his arms. 

Alph made a face. “Fiiiiine. But don’t keep him too long.” And with that, he walked off somewhere else.  

Charlie looked at Alph, then Iota. “What did you need?”

Iota simply laughed and patted Charlie’s back. “See these three?” he jesters at the other three koppaites with them. “They’re my band mates. They’re also my boyfriends and girlfriend. We’re all really close, you know?”

“... Yeah.”  

“We also love my siblings very much. They’re just as protective of them as I am. Speaking of,” he panned his arm out to the entire room. “All of us siblings care for each other very much.”

“... where are you going with this?” Charlie asked, eyeing him.  

Iota stared at Charlie with a dark and intense expression. “I’m saying that if you hurt Alph, it’ll be the last fucking thing you do.”

Charlie stood there, tense for a moment. Was this guy serious?

Evidently not, as he began to laugh a few seconds later. “Holy shit – the look on your face! I’m not actually goanna kill you dude. But seriously, don’t hurt Alph. I’m not above hurting you back for that.” And with that, Iota promptly began to ignore Charlie to focus his attention back on his partners.  

Charlie’s ear twitched and he backed away from the group. Looking around, it took him a moment to find and then get to Alph.  

“What did he need from you?” Alph asked, looking up.  

“I... I think he just threatened me.”  

Alph groaned and rubbed his head a little. “Oh, goddammit. Just ignore him, okay? He’s just being an asshole.”

Charlie nodded. “Are they all like that...?”  

“To a point. Yeah. Actually, maybe take whatever warning he gave you a little bit seriously. Back in middle school, my sister got suspended for me ‘cus some older kid was picking on me.”

“... Do I want to know what happened?”  

“Do you want to know what she did to that kid?”

“On second thought, no. No I do not.”

“That’s what I figured. A-Anyways, would you like to get a-”

“Hey! Alph!” Another sibling, this one tall and lanky, ran over. “Is this the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about?”  

Alph sighed. “Yeah, Tau. This is Charlie. Charlie, meet Tau.”

Charlie laughed a little. “Yet another older sibling, hmm?” Tau immediately burst out laughing, and Alph’s face went red with embarrassment. Charlie’s ears leaned back a bit. “What is it? What did I say wrong?”

Tau put an elbow on Alph’s shoulder, leaning on him a bit. “I’m his younger brother, not his older brother.” Alph looked away, trying to wiggle himself free. “That being said, I’m not the little brother!” and he began to laugh again.  

“Hahaha, you’re very funny. Asshole.” Alph grumbled.  

Tau just shrugged. “Anyways, it’ll be nice to get to be related not just to one, but all three of koppai’s hero's!”

Alph looked up, face even more red. He and Charlie were not dating that long, and marriage was nowhere in the picture yet. Then his expression changed from one of annoyance to one of confusion. “I’m just dating Charlie though.”  

Tau tilted his head. “Have you not been keeping an eye on Brittany?”

“No. Why? What’s she doing?”  

“She’s been flirting with Theta for as long as she’s been here, dude.”  

“She what?!” Alph than began to look around for the two.  

Charlie couldn’t help but smile a bit. So they’re all protective of each other. How cute. He then stumbled a bit as Alph grabbed his arm and began to drag him over to where the two women were. They were standing and talking to some of the other siblings, Theta’s arm securely around Brittany.  

“Theta.” Alph called out.

She looked over at him. “Yeah?”

“You are my sister.”

“That is correct.”

“And she is one of my closest friends.”

“Uh-huh.” Theta nodded as Brittany gave out a little “awwww”.  

“And neither of you felt the need to tell me you were a thing?”

The two women looked at each other before shrugging.  

“Nope.” Brittany replied.  

“Honestly we were as subtle as a freight train.” Theta spoke with a smirk. Then, as if to prove her point, she kissed Brittany’s cheek before going back to talking with her siblings. Alph looked up at Charlie, who could only shrug in response. He completely understood their whole “protective siblings” thing, but they also didn’t necessarily have to tell Alph either. It wasn’t like they went around announcing their relationship, not really until today.  

Charlie’s ear twitched and he looked up as Upsilon called for the group's attention. “Everyone listening?” he asked as the room quieted down. “Alright then. It’s just about sunset now, so that means it’s time for dinner! Everyone file into the kitchen and wifey and I will try our best to serve everyone a plate.”  

The entire gathered family then crowded into the kitchen, leaving very little wiggle space. Charlie elected to wait just outside the kitchen, as the thought of being over crowded like that freaked him out a little. Alph stood next to him to wait as well. As they waited, Charlie saw more siblings he didn’t meet yet, several little children bumbling around, and even some elder aunts and uncles he wasn’t even aware of. Eventually the stream of people in the kitchen died down, and the two were able to slip in as well. They grabbed a paper plate each, and soon Upsilon was there to slide some food on them.  

“There you go. There’s a little bit of everything as most of it’s gone now, but I hope you enjoy it none the less!” He said with a wide smile.  

“Thank you.” Charlie gave a short, awkward bow out of habit, and then left the kitchen with Alph and his food. There were no more spots to sit and eat, so they chose to stand as they ate and talked. A few siblings would approach them here and there, and would make small talk. But as dinner came to a close the family members started to leave the celebration and head home for the night. Eventually, Alph and Charlie had decided that they too were ready to head home.  

“Hey Brittany!” Alph called out, catching the botanist's attention. “Charlie and I are about to leave; you still need us to drop you back home?”

“Uh, no. I’m going home with Theta.”  

Alph’s ear twitched. “A-Alright. Just be nice to her.”

The two girls laughed a little. Alph said some good byes to his siblings, and then they left for home.  

[shirtlesssammy]

15x02: Raising Hell

Then:

Cousin Oliver’s Cousin Oliver makes his grand entrance, and we love him

Now:

The ghosts of Harlan, Kansas are contained, and most of the townsfolk are corralled in the high school 5 miles away. One daring resident, Nan, decides to check out things herself, and armed with nothing but her pashmina scarf, she scouts the town. Her neighbor, Rob, is there and, let me say, if he was that much of a weirdo in life, I would have moved across the country to get away from him. EEEk. 

*Gratuitous Buckleming Bullshit Alert*

Nan is stabbed repeatedly by the ghost possessing Rob. And then the ghost makes a spelling bee funny. 

And we laughed and laughed. 

At the high school, Cas worries that they’re benzine cover story isn’t going to last much longer. One woman already disappeared. Chief!Sam steps up and makes an inspiring speech to the frustrated townspeople.

It’s kinda awkward? I think Sam is nervous about leading (and it breaks me a little to think about the trauma that he’s processing when he made this decision to lead again.)  

FBI!Dean and Belphegor are patrolling the perimeter of the ghost circle. We learn that the ghost in the opening is Francis Tumblety, a.k.a. Jack the Ripper (*Boris puts on Sam Winchester nerd glasses*: No one actually knows who Jack the Ripper was, and he’s not “cool” Dean. Anyway, go read The Five, y’all.) 

Some vigilante townspeople decide to take matters in their own hands and make a plan to go back to their houses. 

*First Quarterly Meeting of the Harlan Ghosts Alert*

Francis Tumblety, President, opens the meeting with an announcement that they were all kicked out of Hell by God himself. Is it just me or did Hell make all these former people WAY dramatic, like they’re all taking part in a small town theater production? 

Two of the vigilantes sneak past the quarantine zone barrier and are almost immediately greeted by two ghosts. Wherps. 

Our favorite witch, Rowena, interrupts Sam and Cas arguing about how to handle the restless townsfolk. Rowena throws her usual love towards Castiel. I think Cas is getting used to it. (And way to deflect your real desire to just chit chat with Sam, Rowena.) Sam asks Rowena about building another soul bomb. They need something to collect the ghosts in.

Before too much flirting can happen, they’re interrupted. There’s a situation. 

Sam rushes to Dean and Belphegor. They’ve found the two possessed townspeople. Sam starts talking to them like they were just totes normal staring at them. Their eyes start bleeding black goo and our intrepid heroes realize they’re possessed. Francis Tumblety pops up and demands to be released. The people possessed are tortured from the inside --and Sam and Dean just stand there. Shoot the ghost, dudes! Make him go away! Ah, that’s for HERO Ketch to do instead! Yay, Ketch! (I feel dirty just writing those words as a joke, and will now burn both my computer and my fingers for typing them.) 

Back at the high school, the brothers discuss the AMAZING and COMPLETELY HELPFUL appearance of Ketch. Ugh. Rowena asks Sam for a Scotch (I mean, she says “Dear”, that’s Sam, right?) Ketch tries to set things right with the witch, but she “hasn’t forgotten” their past. (KILL HIM, QUEEN). 

Ketch learns that Jack is dead and now we’re Team Belphegor. It seems that Ketch has been tasked with assassinating Belphegor. Awkward. 

Meanwhile, in Reno, Amara’s living her best life. She’s getting a massage, when her derpy asshole brother makes an appearance. (Sidenote: I’m supposed to hate Chuck, but wtf? I can’t hate Rob! It’s physically impossible to not be charmed. Aagh. Oh, wait, he liked the ending to Game of Thrones. BURN HIM. But seriously, that’s some lovely shade, and it renews my faith that they’re going to stick the landing with Supernatural.) 

Cas has to handle customer service for a bit, and quite frankly, he’s a fucking saint. 

Rowena and Dean talk ingredients for her soul bomb spell, and Dean plays matchmaker for her and Sam! Specifically, he tells her to “find another boy toy” when she asks about Ketch, but she was just asking to learn what’s the best angle for killing him. Dean doesn’t know that though. Dean might be going through a messy break-up but he’s still making sure his brother is happy. 

*DEANCAS ALERT*

Cas finds Dean in a room. Cas makes an awkward sports reference (HE’S JUST TRYING TO FIT IN, DAMNIT --also, I like to think he’s trying to throw a little levity into their awkward exchanges.) Dean’s pretty mad, and I’m pretty sure I read a few dozen coda fics with this exact dialog last week, lol. Dean’s mad about everything --his whole life has been a lie. Cas bites back, angry about Chuck killing Jack, but he makes it clear to Dean that what they’ve done over the years isn’t a lie. 

Dean can’t believe they’ve ever had a choice in anything. Brb, crying in the corner. I’ll just leave this here for now:

Cas: Dean, you asked, “What about all of this is real?” We are.

(I can’t find it now but someone on sm compared this to “You idiot. You asshole..” and I am compromised.)

Later, Dean and Ketch walk the perimeter. Dean gives Ketch an iron chain to wear to keep ghosts away. They head to a Meat Packing warehouse, where the F in Dean’s FBI jacket disappears. Wherps. Ketch gets tossed around a bit, AND I’M HERE FOR THIS. Dean gets tossed a bit too so, no thank you. A voice tells the ghost to back off. KEVIN!

Dean tries to wrap his brain around Kevin, who was unfortunately sent to Hell instead of Heaven by good ol’ Chuck. Kevin reports that the barrier is fading, so they’re running out of time. He also boasts that he has a “bad boy rep” in Hell. You do you, I guess? 

Chuck continues to be THAT GUY, hanging out in Amara’s hotel room and channel surfing. She tries to do yoga. 

When he tries to convince her to jet off to another dimension, she refuses. “I am running a hot streak in craps. I like Reno. Everyone here is so not…you.” Amara senses that Chuck is…off. When she discovers his injured shoulder, she tells him that he’s weak and afraid. 

Sam and Dean (and bonus Belphegor) assess the state of the barrier. Belphegor insists that the Winchesters can’t just shuttle Kevin off to Heaven. Once he’s been in Hell, he’s destined to stay there. (Can I just say, we’re basing this all off the word of a hinky demon? So IS this really canon truth, is what I wanna know?) (Boris: That wasn’t true for Bobby?)

In Reno, Chuck touches his bullet wound and hisses in pain. Sam cries out at the same time. Oof, TIED TOGETHER. Sam lies to Dean and tells him that he’s feeling better. Dean does his best inquisitive face.

The ghosts, meanwhile, are still hanging out in their weirdly vanilla home base. I can’t believe nobody’s painted viscera on the walls yet! Other Colonel Sanders stalks around, grandstanding about the failing warding and their plan to attack the weak points. Kevin flashes in. Our dear Kevin tries to act tough, but gets bullied by a bigger…ghost. (Suggestion: a ghost’s power isn’t inherently proportional to their size in life, but to their intelligence and mastery of their ghosty powers.) But WHATEVER the big, bully ghost puts a halt to Kevin’s plan to infiltrate the group pretty much immediately. 

Rowena flirts (apparently, ugh) with Ketch while mixing potions in a science classroom. 

As much as I love and support Rowena and want her to GET SOME whenever she damn well pleases, I find Ketch to be a tool through and through. It’d be different if she wanted something from him but…alas. There they are. They flirt with awkward magic versus science innuendo. Ketch strips a plug and jolts her potion. (Boris and I wander off, our hands shielding our eyes in second-hand embarrassment.) 

 Rowena races through the neighborhood with her soul trapping bespelled crystal. Other Colonel Sanders zaps in. He once had a relationship (ReALly?) with her and is appalled that she’s working for the Winchesters now. Ketch pops up and shoots the ghost while Rowena runs off. As Ketch stares off in the distance feeling very smug, the ghost zaps in behind him and knocks him out.

The Winchesters head in to the very beige suburban home to talk to the ghosts. Other Colonel Sanders threatens to kill Kevin, then sticks his hand in Kevin and starts to suck away his soul. Um. Okay, is this a ghost power now? Or is that how demons are made? Rowena uses that moment to suck several ghosts into her crystal, but it’s not enough. She’ll have to catch them one by one, practically. Kevin tells them about the barrier-busting plan, and they head out to survey it. 

The ghosts manifest as little red balls of flame as they hit the barrier. Dean shoots at them like he’s playing a carnival game and is DESPERATE for the red cowboy hat at the top of the booth. Shooting them one by one is pretty fruitless, so Rowena’s called to the plate. Ketch escorts her to the front and I kinda want to punch him as he gestures for her to go ahead. Like, go eat a lemon and die, Ketch. 

Rowena lets loose her ghostbuster ray and starts sucking in ghosts (through…the barrier?) but Ketch knocks her out. It turns out, he’s ghost-possessed! Sweet Dean Bean’s out of salt rounds and Ketch has the crystal now. He boasts about its power and how it’ll be the most perfect thing to break the wall. Dean shoots Ketch, knocking the ghost out of him, and Rowena sucks ‘em in.

Later, Ketch is getting loaded up into an ambulance (glad to see these random first responders are helping out right at the border of this freak gas leak). Cas tells Sam quickly that he tried to heal Ketch, but failed. Ruh roh, Cas! 

Dean holds a conciliatory conversation with Ketch (to sad music) while Ketch gets hauled away. Ketch exchanges mournful glances with (EXHAUSTED SIGH) Rowena. Dodged a bullet there, Rowena. 

Dean and Sam bid farewell to Kevin, who believes Belphegor’s line about Heaven’s no admittance policy. Kevin’s going to wander the world as a restless spirit, rather than head back to Hell. Belphegor zaps the warding, opening up a door-sized hole for him to go through. See you soon, we hope! 

For Kevin Looks FINE Science:

Back with the gods, Amara heads out on her own. “I am willing to coexist with you, brother. …In the universe! Just not anywhere near you.” She tells him that he has little power against her now. Furthermore, he can’t leave the world without her help. “I’ve become the better me. And you are still the same. Petulant, narcissistic…” Amara is pleased that she’s been able to trap Chuck on the very world he’s trying to escape right now. 

At the barrier, souls continue to whir towards the weak point. Dun dun DUN!

______________________________

These Quotes are Real:

A town full of ghosts? Messy even by Winchester standards.

Can you boys do nothing on your own.

We ran our own race. We made our own moves. And mostly we did well with that.

Dean, you asked, “What about all of this is real?” We are.

Turns out, God’s a dick.

I like soul catcher.

______________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[imbruedinfear-a]

@undeadrphub​ asked: ALL OF THEM FOR JAY

🍍  :    how comfortable is my muse in their body? how do they feel about their height,  weight,  strength,  and body type?  how important is being attractive to them? 

this man would kill to be taller in .0002 seconds if he could. he was bullied for his height, bullied for being severely underweight, bullied for feminine hips, for.. literally anything. he hates it all. as an adult, he’s managed to pull himself out of the underweight category, but it’s solely from muscle. he’s still incredibly thin and small, just as he’s always been. you can’t get him to be comfortable without an oversized hoodie to hide in. he vaguely cares about being attractive, but it’s more ‘i don’t want them to be embarrassed to be hanging out with someone as fucking ugly as i am’ than anything else. if he’s not working or going out with people, he won’t even think of trying to improve appearance.

🍅  :    how does my muse feel about plastic  /  cosmetic surgeries   &   procedures?  is it something they have done or would do?  do they mind if others do it? 

dislike. who the fuck cares about their appearance that much? granted, he’s had a nose job, but it was so he could still fucking breathe rather than cosmetics. he won’t dislike you as a person for it, but he’s going to instantly find you unappealing. it just bothers him for some reason.

🍏  :    how stable is my muse’s physical health?  do they go for regular or semi-regular checkups by a physician?  do they have any diagnosed illnesses and / or take any medication?  how often do they get sick?

stability whomst? he has two modes of health: sick once a year or sick every other week. it depends on how much food he’s been eating and whether or not he’s blown food money on beer. fuck doctors. his overall health is fucked. doctors cannot explain why he doesn’t have x problems and how he’s even still alive after all of the beatings he’s had, especially when it comes to the brain damage. he has seizures, sometimes an arm will stop working for a bit, sometimes he can’t hold anything, sometimes he’ll have a burst of amnesia. he’s a medical mystery to the point there are literal scientific articles on his case, and 98% of the time if he lands in the hospital for something they’ll just shrug it off. it’s gotten to the point he’ll break bones and still not go, because he learned how to fix that fucking problem himself when he was like 12.

🍎  :    how stable is my muse’s mental health?  have they been diagnosed with any mental illnesses and  /  or conditions?  do they have any undiagnosed mental illnesses and  /  or conditions?  do they or should they attend therapy? 

:^) he’s gotten away with murder ( though it was self-defense ) through the insanity claim, which is actually really fucking hard to use. that should give you an idea of his scores on mental exams. but again, he has brain damage, and every single psych he’s ever interacted with has mentioned that they can no longer determine what’s an actual mental illness or what’s just his brain being physically unable to function correctly. he’s never been to therapy, but he’s been tested several times. his scores changed every time, for every section. the only thing anyone’s certain on is PTSD. Depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Antisocial Personality Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder, and Schizophrenia have been heavily considered, but even professionals argue with each other. he’s a medical mystery even in mental health. he needs therapy, but his disorders make him extremely avoidant of it. that is not to say everything i listed is true, nor is it to say there isn’t anything unlisted here.

🍑  :    how meticulously does my muse look after their physical appearance?  do they spend a lot of time on their hair,  makeup,  grooming,  and clothing?  is there a particular reason why they do or don’t?  

oof. how anxious is he? if he’s anxious, he’ll fix himself 1000x times. if he’s not doing anything special, he’ll walk out the door without a second thought. he doesn’t spend a lot of time on anything, but he does make sure he’s well groomed and put together. it should be noted, though, he doesn’t look in the mirror. his own apartment doesn’t have one, and he avoids public restrooms like the plague. his own reflection is a fucking trigger. this is probably why his eyeliner is always smudged.

🍒  :    how much does my muse value companionship?  do they constantly keep people around them,  or do they prefer to be alone often?  do they have or desire to have many friends?  do they see every meeting as an opportunity to make a new friend?  

confusing as fuck. he’s lonely as hell and constantly wants to hangout with people, but he also will have periods of avoiding them like the fucking plague. he loves hanging out! he fucking hates being out! who knows! for the most part, he has a lot of friends in a lot of places and will gladly drink with any group of strangers, but he’ll yeet the fuck out if you try actually getting close to him. he’s alone, always, at home and only around people when working or getting fucked up. having other people around too often, like a roommate perhaps, will make his mental health act the fuck up.

🍇  :    how would my muse describe their childhood?  how much has it impacted the person they are now,  or will become as an adult?  around what age did they or will they start to mature,  and why?  do they wish to go back to their days as a child,  or have they embraced adulthood? 

in his words, it was a great big pile of horseshit on fire. he literally has brain damage from it. he can’t leave his own room without convincing himself it’s going to be his living room, not his childhood home, and sometimes he’ll open the bedroom door and see his father standing there, and then he’ll fucking yeet back into bed. obviously it’s impacted him just a smidge. definitely not full of self-hatred and constantly fighting himself to do shit he likes, absolutely most definitely not traumatized in a million forms and continues to trigger himself because how the fuck do you go about your day not panicking half of the time. IN OTHER WORDS, he was a fucking parent to his brother when he was only 4, he would rather die in the most slow, most painful death than return to childhood. is he even still alive bc he doesn’t know

🍐  :    how intelligent is my muse overall?  are they smarter than the average person,  or less than?  are they primarily self-taught,  or did they acquire most of their knowledge in school?  are they more street smart or book smart? 

if you knew him before his skull was caved in, you would call him a freak for how fast he could think and solve problems. he was the type of genius you’d only heard about in stories, and he pissed off his teachers because he never even needed to be taught. show him the super simple problem once and he knew how to do everything for the next three weeks. he grew up on the streets and read shakespeare for fun. he lost it all. it now only shows rarely, on really good days, when the stars want to align.

🍉  :    which of the four seasons suits my muse best,  and why? 

summer. he literally lived outside most of the time since he was a kid, and summer nights were easiest. outdoor concerts, parties late at night, cookouts and campfires. he also loves storms.

🍌  :    is my muse inclined to help others,  or will they only do it when it benefits them,  if at all?  what makes them this way?  has it ever gotten them into trouble,  or inconvenienced them?

which personality is showing most at the time? he’s gotten accused of rape for helping a woman once. let that sink in. but also, he’s helped so many people he’s protected by half the city’s underworld. who knows.

🍊  :    does my muse desire romance?  is it something they would actively seek out,  or prefer to happen more  ‘  naturally?  ’  what is their love life like?  do they have any exes or past flings,  or crushes? 

o k a y listen. these r getting too hard i literally don’t know ok can i asked which disorder or which personality is showing most at the time for this bc IT CHANGES like everything always does. mostly, he’s,, weird. he actively seeks it out in the sense he’ll go on dates regularly, but he’s not actually trying to find a girlfriend. he’s carefree. also traumatized. really wanted romance until his heart was ripped to shreds and now he’s convinced himself he’s not lovable, too complicated, extremely undesirable, and especially undeserving of it. he won’t let it happen. no one should have to suffer by having to deal with him. if you’re including things that were just for fun and both parties knew it wasn’t serious, he’s had a few girlfriends. if we’re only including serious things, then he’s only had (1) serious boyfriend. They were together for nearly two years, and they split solely because Jeremiah a) didn’t want sex as much and b) didn’t want to try any kinks. def no trauma from that, absolutely doesn’t panic abt not being good enough or wanting it enough or being pleasing or being fun or attractive or too scarred. nope. also totally doesn’t do shit he doesn’t even like / triggers him just bc they want it gotta give it to them. perfectly fuckin’ fine after one relationship.

🍓  :    how is my muse typically seen by others?  does it ring true to who they really are?  does their reputation matter to them? 

our options: 1) aggressive 2) smooth n flirty 3) soft n adorable. he is all of the above. if you’re from the city and connected to the drug world at all, there’s a big ass chance you’re aware he was a major dealer at one point, the son of a psycho serial killer, and connected to damn near every gang in some way. there are few people who would be stupid enough to hurt him, just because there’s probably some member somewhere who’s going to get revenge for it. his rep is pretty positive if ur aware he basically turned the outskirts of the city from a shithole to a really good community. otherwise, u probably just think ‘criminally insane deliquent’. he doesnt rly care about it unless u start asking about his fucking dad.

🥝  :    does my muse have any  ‘  unusual  ’  habits, interests,  and  /  or talents?  do they hide it,  or are they proud of it? 

b r u h i dont fuckin know im skipping this one, he’s just obsessive compulsive about the oddest things

🍋  :    what kind of diet does my muse have?  do they eat regularly,  or the standard 2-3 meals a day?  do they have to be reminded to eat,  or are they likely to remind others?  do they cook,  or have others cook for them?  do they eat healthily,  or not so much?  

no diet. no food. eat if money, starve if none. remember to eat who?? o u mean eat everything. who fucking knows. he can cook really well, sometimes, maybe. pizza and taco bell 4 life. fuck vegetables. fruits are delicious and to be treasured. he mostly eats like shit, if he eats at all.

🥭  :    how important to my muse is their hometown,  or where they’re from?  are they proud of it,  or considered a hometown hero? did they move away,  or do they wish to?

none. no fucks given. still here bc no money to move. would happily fuck off to Paris or something.

[sergeanttpoliteness]

idk if you’re taking requests or anything, if you aren’t ignore this, but if you are I would die for a classic, upside down spider-man kiss with the loml spider-noir. poor guy would probably be very surprised at first but suddenly its his favorite thing to do. thanks I love you and your work!!

AND➝ mayhaps…. a first kiss with noir? if u have time! 

sorry for answering so late nonnies! i feel so bad about that, i promise i wasn’t ignoring y’all. same goes to the few other requests i have in my inbox right now! 

——-

➹ inconvenient feelings➹ (spider-noir x reader)

word count: 2.5k

a/n: can you tell i had no idea what to call this lol. i didn’t edit either bc… oof. i’ve been struggling a lot with writer’s block (nothing new, honestly lmaoo) lately and someone close to me recently passed away and i haven’t quite… been able to wrap my head around it?? i don’t know, not to be a little bitch but this week consisted of a lot of school stuff, emotions, and anxiety so thanks @ the people who requested this bc i needed to write some wholesome stuff. also thx at my bestie for helping me out w ideas, ily broz. anyway, there’s some minimum ripeter x reader although it’s solely platonic! hope you all have a lovely week (:

taglist: @marvelousmorales

It’s not convenient. Convenient was that one person with the pretty smile whose eyes seemed to possess an affinity to him that one time at a jazz club, or the singer with the honey voice and smooth runs more soothing than the late night singing of a mother to her child. A poor goon who smooched his fist whilst it collided with his face could even fit the designation, really— but what mattered, the simple component they shared, was that all three were just a speck in a sea with no end; an eternal blue void with only more possibilities hiding in the pitch-black depths neither he nor the light’s fingertips could touch. They were safe. Uncomplicated.

Peter stared out the window, at a completely distinct world, far from a city in a vintage film: the ongoing the mechanical song of speeding cars, the newer and taller lit up buildings, the blinking golden lights, identical to a field of a thousand miniscule suns. This was not convenient. It’s… so different— like day and night, water and fire. This meant to swim out of the ocean he belonged to and reach for a foreign land, to run after a mere drop of water when a whole fucking body existed behind him. It’s not safe. It’s complicated.

Your sleepy eyes roamed the same page for the fifth time with no precise purpose, more disoriented than a newcomer in a large city until they traveled and spotted their true destination: Peter’s own sight deeply engulfed in the view outside, the twisting of his brows every now and then filling your mind with wonder and curiosity at what could possibly be running through that brain of his. You could’ve continued with the ogling like the damn creep you were (seriously, you gotta stop it with that, you told yourself), but you slipped and made a mistake— the most laughably absurd misstep— worse than trying to take a picture of a stranger and then, to your utmost terror, the flash going off— which wouldn’t have occurred in the first place if you’d paid your electricity bills on time. Your apartment wouldn’t have been plunged into darkness, and you wouldn’t have, without thinking, your head clearly not in its right place at the moment, slightly tilted your phone and directed your phone’s flashlight right at the side of his face. You quickly pulled the beam of light away, as if that would work; however, his gaze drifted to you. “Sorry.” You blurted out, acting casual and pretending to focus on the journal on your lap. “You were so quiet, I thought you had fallen asleep.” You lied.

“No, I’m awake.” He said, furrowing his brows to himself— of course you already knew that. You mumbled a small ‘good’, holding the notebook close to your face, like a child staring through the window of a pet shop at some puppies, shining the ‘smartphone’, he’d learned, over the pages. You bit your lip, your shoulders shaking with your surfacing laughter.

“Oh, man, this one’s so dumb.” You snickered before running your finger up the paper, clearing your throat. “October 8th, 1999. Today I came back from my camping trip with Peter, Ben, and May. We ate a lot of s'mores— Uncle Ben makes the best! We also told some scary ghost stories, and I even made Pete scream. It was awesome. You will not believe what happened!” You read the last sentence with a dramatic tone, similar to that of a terrible news headline from a sketchy website, making yourself more comfortable on the L shaped bench seat and leaning into Peter’s side.

Peter tensed at first, but slowly, he pushed himself to relax after you rested your head on his shoulder, a quiet voice in the back of his head speaking against his desires, echoing the terrifying thought that he could get used to this. “I don’t know, enlighten me: what happened?” He asked, amused. You lifted your finger, eyebrows raising gradually, building up the suspense. He waited, and waited, and waited, until, finally—

“I have to go eat dinner. I’ll tell you later.” You finished with an unhumorous voice and a poker face. Yet again, he awaited in silence, interested. Man, you took this suspense thing quite seriously— wait.

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it?!” He looked down at you and you nodded. “Oh, c'mon! You just gonna leave the reader hanging like that?”

You shrugged, wearing a shit-eating grin, loving his genuine disappointment as you flicked the page. “Sometimes that’s just the way it is.”

“Oh, what malarkey!” He laughed softly. You crinkled your nose— malarkey. What a dork.

You resumed scanning the barely discernible handwriting, the corner of your mouth tugging upwards. “Alright, this one does have an ending.” You sat up, rolling your shoulders back only to go back to your position of hunching over the journal. “April 3rd, 2000. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I forgot I had this journal. Something crazy happened.”

“The end.”

“Shut up.” You shushed him, shaking your head. “'I hung out with Peter today. We rode our bikes, had a race down the hill near my house, and I also got a butterfly to land on my finger. Man, I love insects!’ …and I still do.” You smiled and he glanced down at you, his mouth twitching. A peculiar glow in his chest grew, fueled him after he recognized that you felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with him; an insight on the stories that carved you into the person that you were today, the being that made every classy, pearly white grin and musical prodigy so boring, so undesirable.

You shuffled on your bum to turn and face Peter, continuing, “We came back home to play some more. We were sitting in front of the TV when, suddenly, he said my name, and like a normal person would, I looked at him…” You inclined forward, voice quieting, looking up at him.

“You won’t believe what happened.”

His eyes darted heavenward and he groaned. “Oh, lord.”

“He kissed me!” You cried out, with as much emotion that past you spilled onto the paper with the five exclamation marks and the three times you underlined the sentence. You slammed the notebook shut and let out a strangled clamor. “I still remember it very clearly. It was just a peck, but he fucking… smashed his mouth into mine, it hurt so much and my lip started bleeding and everything.” You giggled, abashed, rubbing your eyes.

Peter’s brows rose with surprise, pondering how an alternate seven-year-old version of him from another universe had more balls than him. He had to admit, though, the scene playing in his head was more entertaining than unfortunate. “And what’d you do?” He questioned, his mouth twitching.

“He was just curious and wanted to see what kissing someone was like, so we promised we wouldn’t talk about it ever again. He was so embarrassed, though, and felt so bad for making me bleed that he almost started crying.” You recalled, chuckling as you eyed the cursed diary one last time and placed it beside you. “What an idiot. I miss him.” You sighed, peering up at him, grinning. “What was your first kiss like, huh?”

It was comical, almost, the raging blush that trickled his face, the greyish tint screaming for the world’s attention. It was just a Peter Parker thing, you guessed: blushing like there was no tomorrow. “Uh, my first kiss?” You nodded. “Well… it happened when I was eighteen.”

You put the side of your head against the wall, eyes going round, your inquisitiveness close to that of a kid listening to a grandparent’s story. “Was it romantic?” You wanted to know everything: who the person was, the place, the context. Did he enjoy it? Did he make the move? And if so, then was there a chance that, maybe…

Unlike you, he did not have much interest in the subject; he stuttered, searching for a way to move on from the memory before he imploded. “I don’t, I don’t think anyone’s first kiss is romantic.”

You squinted at him, noticing his obvious attempt at dodging the question, but chose to spare him. Just for a few milliseconds, though. “Have you ever had… a perfect kiss?” You said, unsure of how to word such a silly question. He shook his head and you hummed, silently taking in a quick breath, your gaze moving to your right. “Have you thought about what you want it to be like?”

Should he say it? He wanted to. He really did. But he couldn’t, even if his eyes almost flickered down to your lips. “Who thinks about that?” He muttered. Perhaps he had. Perhaps he’d been guilty of having the thought slither into his mind once or twice— possibly more than just that. Perhaps it’d pestered his mind as of recent, like that damn small scratch on his glasses that won’t go away no matter how many times he tried to wipe it away as if that would even help. Perhaps it returned as you unconsciously licked your lips and raised your shoulder, a bashful grin growing on your face.

“I have, when I’m bored. An upside down kiss with a cute guy.” You admitted, your eyes narrowing afterward, only just now realizing how bizarre the idea was once you said it aloud. Your impatience throbbed in your head so badly you didn’t mind the embarrassment as much, though. You really were doing this, huh? “I think I found the cute guy.” You hinted, your heartbeat pounding in your throat.

He understood the insinuation, of course he did. But what better way to run from your feelings than close his trembling hand into a fist, pretend to be clueless, and act like an idiot?

“Who’s the lucky fella?”

Didn’t think he was so stupid, you grumbled in your head, masking your faint irritation. You pressed your lips together, sight on your cushions. “Someone I like quite a lot.” You vaguely said, voice distant. “Though I don’t think you’d understand— you’re not one to fall in love, no?”

It was half a joke but half a real question, one with solely one right answer you yearned to hear from him if you got lucky enough. Peter blinked nervously, fear burning in his stomach, clenching his insides as his tongue dared to break free from his control, from his cowardly spell. “Lately I’ve had someone in mind.” He breathed out, close to breaking out in a sweat. He watched how your eyes dimly lit up, hesitance impeding the light from fully glowing.

“Really? And who is this ‘someone’?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Tell me.”

“Not now.” He gulped. You pouted, begging with your eyes. “N-no.”

“Are you ever gonna make a move?”

Peter drew his lower lip between his teeth, feeling dizzy just by thinking about it; the downfall of the relationship once the distance became too much, once the malaise with no cure finally rotted the adoration, infested the heart, decayed it. “No.” Same answer. Same bedeviled word that boomed in his head whenever his emotions were close to getting the best of him.

“Why haven’t you done it yet?” You whispered, not caring anymore about how obvious you were

being. He frowned. Why hadn’t he done it yet?

“I don’t know if I should.”

“Why not?”

Why not? His own thoughts repeated, betraying him. The confusion unlatched the cage, released all the questions and doubts about his reasons and dread. They crowded his brain, rang in his ears. “It’s… it’d be too hard to keep the relationship alive.” He retold more to himself and the storm of interrogations than you.

Your brows snapped together, your own fear knocking on the door again. “Is it not worth it to try, though?” It’s what you’d told yourself: the antidote to unfreeze your limbs and wave goodbye at the concern hanging in there, because… was it not?

In the overwhelming haziness, he finally looked at you. It’s what he needed to come upon a realization, a truth he knew all along but crumbled and threw away. Everything hushed, one single, final phrase in the quiet of it all.

Convenient wasn’t what he wanted.

“It is.” He said under his breath.

You heard him, and your eyes twinkled. “Well, then make the move.”

He couldn’t help it anymore. His eyes found your lips.

“I will.”

You stared at each other for a moment, anticipation never more warming than right then as it fluttered in your chest. To your biggest disappointment, he broke eye contact and stood up. “Close your eyes for a moment.” He ordered, his face indistinguishable in the dark now that he was further away.

“Creepy, but okay.” You huffed, your eyelids fluttering shut. “You better not be running away right now, you’d break my poor ol’ heart.”

“Don’t worry, that’s not the case.” You heard him say. You trusted him, which could’ve been a terrible choice. The total silence that followed didn’t put you to ease at all, honestly. Maybe you annoyed him so much with your questions that he was about to murder you, and if that’s what was happening, you were quite sad, to say the least.

Your eyelids were itching to open and you lifted a brow, straining your ears to distinguish any sign of his presence. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re not gonna believe what’s about to happen.”

You snorted at his reference, but his voice was… oddly close. You opened your eyes, and— “Oh, fuck!” You yelped and jumped back in your seat. Damn right you weren’t gonna believe what was about to happen, for Peter dangled from the ceiling right in front of you, upside down.

“Is it too much of a strange idea? I was going to simply stick to the ceiling upside down, but then I thought… that’d be… worse.” He clumsily explained. You looked up at the web he hung from, laughing in disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing?” You repeated, but you weren’t mad— your large smile backed that up. You couldn’t figure out if it was a blush creeping up his face or if it was from the fact that he was upside down. Both, maybe.

“I’m making a move.”

You giggled, glad you confessed what you considered to be a perfect type of kiss to him or else you wouldn’t had witnessed how absolutely ridiculous he looked right now. “So you’re willing to help me check 'kissing someone upside down’ off my bucket list?” You smirked.

He grinned. “It would be my pleasure.”

You bit your lip, placing both hands on his head. “Alright, then.“ 

You leaned forward, the tip of your nose brushing against his chin. You softly kissed the area below his bottom lip to tease him, but he didn’t want to wait any longer. Not after so long. Quickly, he enclosed your own bottom lip with his mouth, lastly fully aware that inconvenient truly was magnificent.

[garbotuesday]

Tear Down Your Walls

Ahhhhh It’s finally that time! Here is my submission for @irondadsecretsanta. I’m so excited to finally get this out, I feel like it’s been forever in the making. This story is for @circle-and-square and I went with Prompt 1: Really Good Hugs.  This plot came to me after watching an episode of B99 - if anyone watches that show tell me if you know what I’m talking about!

____

The thing Tony didn’t expect about the prosthesis is that it really, really itched.

He was on strict instructions not to touch his arm until there was more healing around the edges where the burns were still a bit raw, and Pepper was a stickler about such things. Still, the damn thing itched and tugged at the skin around his shoulder and it was driving him crazy.

Plus no one was around. If he was quick -

He startled with the pen in his hand when he heard a small giggle behind him. He whipped around to find Morgan crouched against the wall in her tiny pajamas, face all cute and angelic in that way it was when she wanted something she wasn’t supposed to have. Tony scowled at her.

“It’s well beyond your bedtime,” Tony said, working to keep his voice stern while he angled away to see if he could get the pen under the lip of the prosthetic and finally get some relief.

“No touch,” Morgan said with a mock pout, a perfect parrot of her mother.

Tony sighed and put the pen down. “What are you still doing up? There will be no extra naps tomorrow, missy.”

Morgan laughed, knowing full well there would be more naps. “Can we call Peter?” she asked.

Morgan had only met Peter a handful of times after the events of the war. The first time she’s been found in his hospital room while he was still being treated for injuries. Happy had shooed her out, only to find her there again an hour later, this time on the bed in Peter’s lap. Peter was sitting up, chatting softly with her and putting holograms of the stars on the ceiling. Peter was a natural with small children, and Morgan was smitten. She thought it was a crime of the highest order that Peter hadn’t seen her room in the cabin yet.

“It’s late up there,” Tony said, using his prosthetic arm to pick Morgan up with one hand and settle her against his hip. Unexpected boon of the robot arm - it was way stronger than he had been. “Peter’s probably asleep.”

“I’m not ‘sleep,” she said, burrowing her face in to Tony shoulder. It felt suspiciously like she was smothering a yawn.

Still, Tony smirked and settled them on the couch. After the physical therapy and final surgeries had been over, Tony had somewhat expected Peter to be back in action, talking a thousand miles an hour and giving him multiple heart attacks per day. Instead, Peter had texted Happy once per day to make sure Tony was still on the mend, after which he’d dropped off the face of the earth.

What the hell, Tony thought. “Yeah, who are we kidding, hm? We know teenagers don’t sleep. Friday, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“Calling Peter Parker,” Friday said softly. Tony grabbed the blanket off of the back of the couch and tossed it over his shoulder so it covered Morgan’s shoulders. She yawned again.

When Peter picked up, his voice was husky in that way it was when he was close to sleep. “Hello?”

“Pete, it is I and Madame Secretary,” Tony said grandly. “Haven’t woken you, have we?”

Thee was shuffling on the line. “No. Wasn’t sleeping. What’s is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, just that Morgan wanted to call.”

Morgan drowsily pulled herself up in Tony’s lap. “Come see my room tomorrow,” she said, the end of the last word disappearing into yet another yawn. Tony mentally fist-pumped - Morgan was so going down easy tonight.

“Tomorrow, huh?” Peter said, sounding distracted. “Something special going on?”

Tony waited for Morgan to respond, but after a moment he looked down and found Morgan’s eyes fluttering closed. He held back his chuckle so he wouldn’t jostle her. “Think she’s gone down for the count,” he said quietly to Peter. “But she’s been talking about you nonstop for the past few days. You’ve not been over enough for her taste.”

Peter made an amused sound. “I was just there last week with everyone else.”

“Well, yeah, when we had the party. But you haven’t been over just to visit. I know everything is still a little nuts right now, what with the house-hunt and us now being in the middle of the woods and all, but if you could spare us some time, we’d love to have you.”

Peter didn’t answer at first, and Tony wondered if Peter had also dropped off to sleep. But then Peter made the noise he made when he hit a building at high speeds, a small oof of air that was knocked out of him when he caught the building and it stole all his momentum. Tony realized he could hear traffic.

“Peter,” Tony said, voice a touch more serious than it had been. “Are you in the suit right now?”

“Maybe,” Peter hedged.

Tony sat up, keeping Morgan close to his chest. “Oh.” He hadn’t thought Peter would go back into his Spidermanning so…soon. It had only been three months.

“I’m just swinging around.” Peter said, tone glib. “I was feeling…pent up today, I guess. We’re all kind of on top of each other at this relocation center we’re in right now. I just needed to feel like I wasn’t surrounded by other people, just for a second. You know how it is.”

Tony hummed. “Does May know where you are?”

“‘Course,” Peter said. “I mean, she’s still running the leaflet drop with the charity right now, but I texted her.”

Tony saw right through that one. “Look, kid -“

Peter sucked in a breath. “Oh, shit,” he hissed. “Mr. Stark, I see someone getting mugged. I know I said I was just swinging, but I gotta step in here.”

Tony jolted. “Wait, Peter, don’t -”

“Mr. Parker has terminated the call,” Friday informed him.

A put-upon sigh came out of Tony’s mouth. He looked down at Morgan in his lap and smirked. “Well that was fun,” he muttered into her hair, standing up uneasily. “Can’t wait for the follow-up phone call with his angry aunt.”

0-0-0-0

May didn’t call; they both showed up that weekend, much to Morgan’s delight. Peter grinned at her, for all the world excited to see her, but it looked a little painful to Tony. So did the impressive shiner the kid had on his left eye.

Morgan grabbed Peter and rushed him into the house, shouting about glow in the dark stars on her ceiling. May put a hand on Tony’s shoulder and turned him toward the edge of the porch. Something in Tony clenched. This couldn’t be good.

“He okay?” Tony asked.

“Physically? That black eye was blacker yesterday, so he’s on the mend,” May said, settling into a chair and wrapping her arms around her torso. Tony sat beside her, a bit stiffly, and sighed with relief. His hand traveled unconsciously up to massage the area between the prosthesis and his shoulder.

“Stop that,” May said absently, looking off into the forest.

Tony glared. “Seriously, did Pep tell everyone?”

May snorted and turned back to him. “I was a nurse, Tony, I know that thing’s not fully healed yet. Don’t touch it.”

Tony sighed. “Fun as this is, I’m sure you didn’t pull me over here to tell me to quit scratching my arm. What’s he done now?”

May worried her bottom lip with her teeth while she looked at Tony, eyes flicking over his face. Tony stiffened for the blow.

“I want you to take the suit back,” she said softly.

Tony jerked and blinked at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I want you to take the suit away from him,” May repeated. “Just for a little while.”

Tony arched a brow. “Because of last night? I thought you said he was okay-”

“He is. And he isn’t. He’s just - he’s-” she stopped and rubbed her thumb and forefinger across her eyes. “Do you know why Peter is such a good student?”

“Um,” Tony said. Where was this conversation going? “He’s a smart kid.”

“He’s always been smart,” May said with a smirk. “But he never liked his schoolwork, even with all his brains. He was the kind of kid who came home and wanted to throw baseballs with his uncle in the park instead of cracking open a textbook.”

Oh no, Tony thought. Not the uncle.

May looked down at her lap. “When Ben died, he started studying. Like, really studying - notes and flash cards and highlighted sentences, the whole deal. I was processing my own grief, so at first I didn’t think that much of it. Then like…like four months go by and I realize he not even sleeping anymore because he’s studying so hard.”

She cut herself off with a sigh and looked down at her fingers. Tony waited, a single bead of sweat going down the back of his neck.

“Peter is the kind of kid who needs constant stimulation in his life to keep him from thinking about his own thoughts.” May looked up at him with pink eyes that looked close to crying. “Spider-Man is a lot more stimulating than US History, wouldn’t you say?”

Tony wasn’t sure how to answer this. “You think he’ll latch onto it,” he finally said.

“I worry that he already has,” May said. “I think he’s convinced himself that he won’t have to think about missing five years of his life if he can go out in the suit every night.”

At Tony’s look of surprise, she smiled at him ruefully. “This is not his first midnight black eye of the past three months, Tony.”

Tony breathed out a sigh. Well, shit. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her what happened the last time he’d taken Peter’s suit, when Peter had gone out in what were basically pajamas. Then he remembered that Peter’s apartment had been demolished and rebuilt in the wake of the Snap. Peter wouldn’t have the old suit anymore; all he had was the watch. If Tony took that from Peter, he really would have to stop. For as long as it took him to collect the pieces to make more web shooters, anyway. If they kept an eye on him to keep him from doing that, could they really make him take a break?

“It’s not forever, or anything. It’s just that school starts back next week,” May said. “I’d just rather he focus on that right now. Find his footing, find his life again. Once I’m convinced he can handle it without killing himself by running himself ragged, he can have it back.”

Tony took in a deep slow breath and rubbed a hand across his chest. “Why me?” he asked, voice strained.

May laughed. “Because I won’t be able to hide it somewhere he can’t reach. Also, you are still his hero, you know. Especially after all this. If you ask him to take a break, he might listen to you.”

Tony nodded once. “He’s going to be pissed at me,” he said warningly.

“At us,” May corrected. “I already asked him to cool it, and he knows I wanted to talk to you. He’ll connect the dots.”

“Like I said,” Tony said, pulling himself arduously to his feet. “Smart kid.”

0-0-0

The Parkers stayed over for lunch; Morgan, still utterly besotted with Peter, had her lunch sitting in his lap. They talked about the apartment hunt, and Tony offered for the umpteenth time to find them a place in the city. May laughed him off, saying she had to find a job first to make sure they could keep the apartment. Tony offered to buy a hospital. Everything was light and happy and when they stood and put their coats on May gave Tony a look and he could feel the knot travel up into his throat.

He sniffed once and gave Peter a light pat on the shoulder. “Got a second?” he asked.

Peter looked up at him in surprise. “Uh, sure.”

“I wanna come,” Morgan said, bouncing up and down. Anything to maximize her time with Peter, Tony knew; she always hated it when he left.

“Tall guy business, Mo,” Tony said, flicking her ear when they walked past. She pouted and tried to follow after, but Pepper picked her up and distracted her with dishes. The one thing Morgan currently liked more than Peter was telling Pepper where to put the dishes in the cabinets. His kid was weird.

Peter followed Tony out the garage, rocking from side to side. “What’s up, Mr. Stark?” he asked.

Tony leaned against a drafting table at the back of the garage. “I wanted to see how you were,” he said lightly.

Peter’s hand drifted to his eye. “I’m fine,” he said self-consciously. “I wasn’t expecting to have to stop a mugging last night. Wasn’t exactly in proper stance when I landed in the middle of the situation.”

“You scared me with that,” Tony admitted. Peter looked down at his shoes. Tony noticed that he didn’t apologize.

It was silent but for the hum of the computers sucking down electricity. Peter put in his hands in the pockets of his jacket and shifting his weight from foot to foot, waiting.

Tony sighed. He wasn’t sure how to say it, so he squared his shoulders and went in for the kill. “I want to hang onto the suit,” he ground out.

Peter’s head snapped up and he immediately began to babble. “No, no no no, Mr. Stark, seriously, it was nothing. He caught me off guard and I just wanted to make sure that the woman he was following was safe, and I guess I was so focused on her that I didn’t see it coming, but I’ll do better, I will -”

“Kid, breathe,” Tony commanded, putting his prosthetic arm on Peter’s shoulder. Peter flinched but ground his teeth together.

“You’re not being punished,” Tony told him. “I haven’t seen the footage, but I have no doubt that you did the best you could.”

“Then why-” Peter cut himself off, eyes going hard and jaw clenching. “Oh. May.”

Tony gave him a look of commiseration but didn’t back down. “School’s about to start up again. She thinks - and I agree - that you should focus on that right now, not Spiderman stuff.”

“I can do both,” Peter argued.

“Not well. Not safely.”

“I will be safe. The suit keeps me safe, that’s what you said.”

“Peter, you and I both know the suit can only do so much. Lest we forget the millions of alerts I’ve gotten from Friday telling me you were stabbed or unconscious.”

“Mr. Stark, we don’t have crime like that right now. Everyone is really too overwhelmed from coming back to do much more than the desperate crimes, the crimes people do to survive when they have nothing. And,” he said, raising his voice as he saw Tony moving to argue. “And, the police are still busy trying to rehabilitate all the officers who just got back too. They’re distracted, but I can help.”

“It’s not your responsibility to put the city back together.” The longer the argument went on, the more Tony was certain he had to get the suit back. Peter was self-sacrificing to a fault - given half the chance he’d kill himself out in the streets trying to avoid his problems.

“It’s my responsibility not to let my power go to waste. If I can’t help and I don’t-”

“Peter, this is beyond that stuff. This is the whole world coming back online after five years. Everyone has to take some time to find a way to deal with that. You have to find a new way to deal with that.”

“I am dealing with it. I’m helping May find us a place to live. I went back to school shopping with Ned. I’ve finished the books I was in the middle of for summer reading. I’m ready to live my life again, and Spider-Man is part of that life.”

Tony shook his head. “I get what you’re saying, I do. But you need a break.”

“Stop telling me what I need, please,” Peter said with an exasperated sigh. “You don’t know what I need.”

“Yes, I do, Peter. You need time. Learn to be a kid in this world again, and then we can revisit the issue. But for now, hand over the suit.”

Peter se his jaw. “This is so unfair.”

“It’s not about being fair; it’s about doing right by you.” Their eyes locked, but something must have clicked for Peter because he bit his lip and looked down at his shoes.

“Fine,” he said, voice curt. Peter took the watch off and let it fall to the table closest to him. He hit the button to open the garage door. “Bye.”

Before Tony could regroup, Peter stepped around him and stalked out to the driveway to meet May at their oxidized purple van. She looked up from where she’d been waiting near the driver’s door and grinned nervously.

“How was-“ she began.

“Don’t,” Peter snapped, cutting her a look so severe she actually reared back half a step. He pulled himself into the car and shut the door without another word. May looked at Tony across the yard, took a breath and then pulled herself into the car as well. After a second the car started and turned down the gravel drive.

Pepper poked her head into the garage. “Did you get it back?”

Tony nodded his head toward it on the table. “He’s mad at me now.”

She came down the stairs and patted Tony on the back. “Do you think you did the right thing?” she asked softly.

“Of course,” Tony answered. “He’ll keep doing it, Pep. If he doesn’t calm down about it, he’ll hurt himself.”

Pepper made a noise. “I understand, it’s just… well, Morgan’s asked for him to come back next weekend. We’re going to have to explain why that’s not likely.”

The sigh that came out of Tony felt like it was going to last for ten years. “Why do I have to be the bad guy with all my children?”

0-0-0-0

School started. Peter went back, along with his friend Ned. Decathlon was slated to start again at the end of the month, so for now Peter did the typical high school mamba; breakfast, classes, lunch, gym, home, and repeat.

Tony got this all from May at the end of next week when he called to invite Peter back up to the cabin. He had tried explaining to Morgan that Peter was going to be busy now that school was back in, but since Friday had let him know Morgan was making tentative plans to hitchhike to Peter’s house, he figured he’d give it a shot.

“I think he’ll say no,” May said, sighing and sitting in a chair tucked into the corner of their shared living space.

“Tell him I said pouting is unbecoming,” Tony said as he cracked eggs into an omelette.

“Honestly I wish that was all,” she said. “When we came home that night, he was definitely mad, and I gave him the night to brood over it. I was prepared to meet anger with anger in the morning, but when I saw him he was just …empty. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t belligerent, he wasn’t anything. He got breakfast and left, and when he came back he did his homework and went to bed.”

Tony’s brow wrinkled. “What time?”

“8:45.”

“Shit.”

“I know.”

Tony glanced out the window at Morgan. It was an unseasonably cold day, not helped by the raining, but she had refused to stay inside and was kicking up puddles and piles of wet autumn leaves in her new rain boots. He made a mental note to get her into the bathtub as soon as he could to stave off a cold.

“Should I talk to him?” Tony asked.

“You can try,” she said. “He isn’t here right now, but - oh, wait-”

Tony heard a door open and close in the background. May’s voice was far away from the receiver. “Hi, honey.”

“Hey, May.”

“Tony’s on the phone.”

“Tell him I said hi.”

May snorted. “Tell him yourself, your Majesty.”

After a heartbeat Peter’s voice was in Tony’s ear. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony had armed himself with his quippy opening statement, but hearing Peter’s voice, he paused. Peter didn’t sound angry, or empty as he’d suspected; instead he sounded polite. Like he was calling with a grandparent on their yearly phone call. Somehow that was worse.

Suddenly he felt awkward. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi.”

Tony braced for the massive rush of words that usually accompanied Peter’s phone calls, but all he got was breathing. Tony sniffed. Alright, he could do majority of the heavy lifting in this conversation. “How are things?”

“Things are…going, I guess. You?”

“Things are getting interesting. Pepper’s flying out somewhere in the UK, so it’s just me and Morgan right now. Speaking of which, she’s asked for you only about a billion times since you left last week. Think you have it in you for another visit?”

The sound of silence stretched out on the phone to an uncomfortable point. Tony actually pulled the phone away to check that the call hadn’t been disconnected.

“Right now’s not…great,” Peter finally said.

“Oh, because?” Tony asked.

“I’ve got a lot going on this weekend. Ned and I are going to try to track down some lamps from thrift stores and Sunday morning I’m touring a new apartment with May. Getting it together, you know?”

“She mentioned it to me, yeah. Congrats, kid. I’m sure you’re ready to move out of the shelter housing.”

Peter let out a small laugh. “You have no idea.”

The conversation fell dead again. Tony, after an interminable moment waiting to let Peter go first, finally said, “Listen, I know you have a lot going on, but I also think it’s stressing you out. You need to take a breather. What about next weekend?”

It was almost like he could hear Peter sigh before he heard it. “Look, Mr. Stark, right now…doesn’t work. I have a lot to do and -”

“Is this because of the suit?” Tony asked. He couldn’t help it - Peter’s attitude was grating on his nerves.

“What?” Peter asked.

“Look, I get it if that’s what this is. You’re pissed because I took your suit but you want to be diplomatic about it. That’s fine. But you don’t have to pretend like that isn’t what this is.” Even though he was frustrated, Tony worked to keep his tone light.

Which is why Peter’s response, which came a full minute later, caught him so off guard.

“Right,” he said, and his tone could have shattered glass. “Because the fucking suit is the only thing I have to deal with right now.”

It took Tony’s breath away, the force of that anger. And it felt like it had come out of nowhere. “Pete-”

“Here’s May,” Peter snapped. Tony could hear the phone being handed across, and then May’s voice saying, “Pete? Peter. Peter.”

A door slammed. After a second May was back on the phone. “What the hell was that?”

“Did he just leave?”

“He did,” May said, sounding frantic, and Tony realized that she must have tried to go after Peter herself. “Wait, Peter! Peter! Pete- excuse me, I’m sorry. Peter, stop! Excuse - ma’am, I said I’m sorry.”

Tony could hear the moment May made it outside and the ambient noise of traffic picked up around her. “Dammit,” she breathed. “God fucking dammit.”

“Do you see him?” Tony asked.

“No,” May said, sounding close to tears. “Fuck. Tony, it’s freezing.”

And their idiot spider-child had just disappeared without a coat.

0-0-0

Pepper was all for letting Tony find Peter, especially when she checked her phone and saw how cold it was going to get at night. She was ten thousand percent not on board with letting Tony use his suit.

“The doctor said, no Iron Man until that arm is more healed,” Pepper had said, crossing her arms and giving Tony an unimpressed look. “Besides, you know the last thing that boy needs is for you to rip off your prosthetic. He’ll think it’s his fault.”

“How am I supposed to find him, then?” Tony had asked angrily.

She had glared right back. “You’re smart. Figure it out.”

So Tony had the pleasure of bundling up and wandering around Queens hoping to run into Peter somewhere. He bit the inside of his lip as the sun began to dip lower and lower in the sky. Peter had no watch, no phone, no suit - Tony had nothing to trace. He hated this. He was tagging Peter with a microchip when he found him.

After an hour Tony called May again. “You can’t think of anywhere he would go?”

“Tony, it’s been five years,” she said. She sounded so tired. “Most of the places he would have gone have been torn down. God, this is a fucking nightmare.”

Tony slowed to a stop and sighed. “May, I’m - I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would come to this.”

“This isn’t you, Tony. This is grief, and pain, and loss. I’ve been through this with him before, but never like this. He used to talk to me.” Her voice got water. “Fuck, Tony. I just want my kid to talk to me again.”

“Teenagers don’t talk to their parents, they talk to each other,” Tony said. Then, after a beat, rolled his eyes.  “Oh my god,” he said. “I know who I can ask. May, I’ll call you right back and let you know the minute I find something.”

Tony hung up and dialed the number. After three rings someone picked up. “Hello?”

“Ned? It’s Tony. You know the one.”

“….how do you have my number?”

“I’ll autograph something for you later, now listen. We’re trying to find Peter; do you have any idea of where he may have gone?”

The breathing on the other end of the phone was all he got in response. Tony smirked. “Give me your address, I’m coming to get him.”

There was a sound like someone sliding off of a bed, and door being softly closed. “Look, Mr. Stark,” Ned said. “Peter needs a minute before he goes home.”

“No, Peter needs to call his aunt and apologize,” Tony snapped, unable to help it. It was dark, and below freezing, and the joint behind the prosthetic was starting to ache. “And then he needs to get home.”

“No disrespect intended,” Ned said, voice suddenly steely. “But I have known him much longer than you have. And you don’t really know what he needs right now; if you did, you wouldn’t have taken the suit.”

Tony was too stunned to respond. What was with these mouthy teenagers snapping off at him today?

“We’re going to my uncle’s new restaurant,” Ned said. “I’ll text the address to this number. You can meet us there in an hour.” And before Tony could argue, Ned hung up.

Tony walked past it twice before he saw it. Ned had said they were going to a restaurant, but the building before Tony looked condemned. Locked doors, an empty storefront; it was a restaurant, obviously something Italian based on the red, green, and white over hang, but it was an Italian restaurant that had been closed for at least six months. The other buildings had been demolished and cleared, so it sat empty and alone on the street corner. He was about to call Ned and threaten him with legal action for giving Tony a false address, but then he heard voices.

“-could do with ice cream,” Peter said, stepping around the corner.

“Dude it’s literally one degree outside. No, we’re not getting ice cream.”

Peter snorted and shoved his friend with his elbow. Ned stumbled and they both laughed. Tony just stared. Peter looked up at the building in front of them, caught Tony’s eye, and abruptly stopped walking.

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked.

“Could ask you the same, kid,” Tony ground out, shrugging out of his coat and handing it across. The bite of the cold hit him immediately, but it wouldn’t kill him.

Peter looked down at it. “I don’t need-”

“Peter, I am not asking.”

Peter set his jaw but took the jacket. Tony didn’t miss his shiver of relief when he stuffed his arms into it.

“Where are we right now?” Tony asked, looking up at the building. Peter looked up at it too, brow furrowed and obviously confused.

“I told you,” Ned said, stepping forward to unlock the door. “My uncle’s restaurant.”

The three of them cautiously entered the cold, dusty storefront and looked around. It was like the restaurant that was closed for the evening; tables with chairs on top of them, ugly laminate floors, swinging door that led to what as presumably the kitchen.

Ned started talking again. “Apparently real estate had some sort of huge boom over the last five years, what with so much coming up empty. My uncle decided he wants to open a restaurant to serve food from his home country, so he bought this place up cheap. I think it’ll be nice.”

Ned pointed to a door at the back and led them up a short, musty flight of stairs into a second interior dining room. Instead of chairs on the tables in this one, each table was covered in plates.

“So, you brought me here to, what? Get haunted?” Peter asked, turning around the small, dark room crusted with spider webs.

“Nope,” Ned said. “I brought you here to tear it down.”

Peter and Tony blinked at him. “What?” they both said in incredulous unison.

“The building is old and it has a ton of structural damage,” Ned said, nonchalant. “He ran the numbers, and it’s actually cheaper to tear the building down and start again than doing repairs.”

“How does that translate to me knocking down the building?” Peter said. “I still don’t understand.”

Ned just looked at him for a long moment. Peter looked back at him, one brow raised.

“Do you remember,” Ned asked, “that one weekend right after your parents passed when you spent the night at my house?”

Peter’s spine went erect. Tony looked at Peter and found that after a moment he was holding his own breath.

Peter swallowed. “Yeah,” he said.

“You were so uncomfortable, even though it was just me and just my house, where you had been a billion times. You wouldn’t eat anything, and you couldn’t really sleep that night. And then when I asked you how I could help, you put your fist through my wall,” Ned said fondly. “It as so cool, even in the moment when I was terrified.”

Peter winced. “I apologized for that, right?”

“Not my point. After you did that, we went downstairs and split a granola bar with two glasses of chocolate milk. For the first time in weeks, I was able to make you laugh. You told me you felt so much better after that night.”

Ned looked around. “You need to put your fist through something. But you’re scared, because now you can’t throw a punch without risking harm to something or someone else. Am I right?”

Peter sucked his lip into his mouth and looked down at his shoes. He shrugged, glancing at Tony and looked away. Tony blinked at him. Peter, the literal definition of a human cinnamon roll, getting angry enough to punch through a wall? Pre-bite Peter?

“Tear the building down, Peter,” Ned said. “No one cares how much damage you do here.”

Peter shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he said quietly, still looking down.

Ned shrugged. “Then don’t do it,” he said. “But think about it. Mr. Stark and I will wait across the street.”

“I don’t-” Tony started, but Ned knotted his fist in Tony’s sweater with such a strong grip that Tony felt it would be better to follow him out. He cast Peter one more concerned look before turning and following Ned down the staircase and back out the door.

The chill bit Tony around the ears the second they stepped out, and he grit his teeth. Ned noticed and was quick to apologize. “Here, take my scarf,” he tried to offer.

“Keep it,” Tony said sharply. “And then explain what the hell is going on.”

Ned paused with his hands on the scarf at his neck. “I’m trying to help Peter,” he said.

“I got that much. But why do you think this will help?”

“Because I’ve known Peter for almost a decade,” Ned said, tone becoming somewhat indignant. “And if there’s anything I know about Peter, its that when he goes through the five stages of grief, he gets stuck on angry. And not just like normal irritability. Peter gets angry. Like, really fucking angry in a way he doesn’t ever get otherwise. He starts snapping off at the smallest stuff, and when you try to call him on it he get physical about it. Nothing else makes him act like that.”

Ned shoved his hands into his pockets and watched his breath fog. “When I found out you had taken his suit I knew he needed my help.”

“…But he wasn’t using the suit to be physically violent,” Tony said, mind reeling. What the fuck.

Ned side-eyed him. “Did you watch the footage from the suit?”

Tony shook his head. Between fending off awards and well-wishers and triaging Morgan’s every need, he hadn’t had time.

“He told me about the night he got the black eye. He said the second he landed the mugger dropped everything and took off. Peter chased him and goaded him into a fight. He just wanted an excuse to throw a punch.”

Jesus. Tony looked back to the building. “So do you think he’ll-”

A wooden table went flying out of the side window and arced across the road, smashing into the ground with an almighty splitting of wood. Tony jumped and looked back at Ned, stunned.

Ned couldn’t keep the smug little smile off of his face. “He’s going to be there for a while,” he told Tony. “And I promised my mother I’d be home by seven, so I’m going to head out.” Ned looked Tony up and down. “Are you sure you don’t want my scarf?”

Peter destroyed the whole building within a matter of minutes.

It was honestly hard for Tony to watch, knowing his kid was in there as the building began to shake on its foundations. He flinched every time something crashed or flew out of the window, and he had to keep reminding himself that Peter had been through much worse. Between Toomes and the battle after the Snap, a building was nothing.

It happened very fast; the building lost walls and windows one by one, but the actual event of it caving in was so quick Tony didn’t have time to panic before the whole thing had hit the ground. The ground shook, and the shockwave of air and debris hit Tony a second later. He turned his face away and covered his eyes as he waited for the fine particulate cloud to dissipate. When he bat his eyes open and looked up, the entire building was rubble.

Tony’s legs felt wobbly as he walked toward the wreckage. His panic mounted the longer he went without seeing Peter in the mess, but eventually Tony saw him, swaying unsteadily and staring down at his feet. He was covered in plaster dust.

“Kid,” Tony whispered, stunned.

Peter looked up. His face was covered in more dust, and he had a long cut running from his ear to the middle of his left cheek where he had been nicked with something.

He was also crying.

Tony had a visceral reaction to seeing Peter cry like that. He rushed forward and grabbed Peter’s arm, intending to grab him up into a hug, but Peter put an arm out and pushed him back.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Hush,” Tony said, not letting go of his arm. “You don’t even know why you’re apologizing, and neither do I, so just…stop it. Just take a second.”

While Peter shook in Tony’s hand, Tony surveyed the damage around them. It looked like they were in the middle of a building that had been struck by a bomb. Broken tables, broken glass, destroyed kitchen appliances and rubble lay everywhere, irrevocably destoryed. But it hadn’t been a bomb; Peter had done this with only his hands and the force of all his frustration and fury. It terrified Tony, seeing what this kid was capable of. How long had he been holding that in?

Peter looked a little shell-shocked, face slack like he didn’t quite get what he had done. His eyes tracked around the destruction, bouncing around and taking in all the debris and bricks on the ground.

“Wow,” he finally said.

“You okay?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” Peter sighed. “That really helped.”

“Well, that’s good,” Tony said slowly with a nod, slowly releasing his arm. It really was a testament to the state of the world that there were still no first responders on the way to see why a two story building had just spontaneously collapsed. “You really did a number here. I’m sure it probably did feel good.”

They stood in silence together before Peter walked over to a long strip of wood that had fallen onto a pile of rubble that was more or less level. He sat on it like a bench and put his forearms on his legs, letting his head fall forward. Tony sat next to him.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Tony said, gently setting his hand on Peter’s back. “I wouldn’t have taken away the suit if I’d known how much you needed this.”

“Well, that’s just it,” Peter said wetly, one hand swiping underneath his nose. “I did something like this after Ben died. Snuck into a gym and hit the sandbags until I thought my arms were going to fall off. I just… I felt better last time.”

Tony didn’t know what to say. “Not enough?” he finally asked.

“Impossibly, but yeah.” Peter sighed and ran his finger through his hair. “This got most of it out, but there’s still just like…a little bit in there.”

“What do you think you need? Tony asked.

“I have no idea,” he said, his voice so lost and defeated that Tony’s heart clenched. “I keep getting so irritated when people tell me what I need to do right now. It’s so annoying. I needed to let off steam, but …” he looked around and a tired laugh poured out of him. “I did that and it wasn’t enough. I don’t know. I just don’t fucking know.”

Tony knew, though. “Know what I think?” he said conversationally. “I think you need a Morgan special.”

When Morgan had been younger she’d been more prone to seeing monsters underneath her bed, and often she would come running to their room for comfort. He would sweep her off of her feet, pulling her into his arms and squeezing her firmly against his chest. He’d been careful not to use the full strength of the prosthetic in his hugs since he’d gotten it, but he was confident Peter could take it. He pulled Peter to his feet and turned him so they were standing in front of each other. He wrapped the prosthetic around Peter’s middle and his own arm across the back of Peter’s shoulders. He cupped Peter’s head with the palm of his hand and, using both arms, squeezed as hard as he could.

Peter stiffened. “What are you doing?” he asked, voice high and breathless.

“It’s called a hug, Peter,” Tony said with a smirk. “Thought to have originated in ancient China.”

“Why are you hugging me?”

“What kind of question is that? Take a breath, and just relax for half a second.”

Peter did so hesitantly, letting the tension slowly unwind in first his legs, then his shoulders, and finally his head as he bowed it and let if fall to Tony’s shoulder. Tony moved his hand around on Peter’s head, basically petting him. Peter felt…protected. When was the last time Peter had felt protection like that?

May protected him as best he could, but it didn’t feel like this. It felt like nights together on the couch, or help with homework, or a badly cooked meal. This feeling he got from Tony was protection from the big stuff, the stuff that throttled his mind while he tried to sleep, the hero stuff he felt too guilty to dump on May. He sat with that feeling for a moment, surprised by how deeply he unclenched at the thought of feeling protected and looked after. Was that all he had wanted?

To his horror, a wave of tears poured over so quickly and intensely he didn’t have time to clench his jaw against it to hold it back. A jagged sob came out of him, so hard and choked that Tony squeezed a bit tighter.  

“I don’t - I’m sorry, I’m not - I’m trying to -” Peter couldn’t get the full sentence out through his sobs.

“Stop, Peter,” Tony said firmly. “Just go with it.”

Tony put his chin on Peter’s shoulder and held him there, warm and tight and strong. Peter took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it spill out gratefully. Tony stood there, holding him, letting Peter pull away on his own terms. It took a long, rather moist moment, but eventually Peter did pull away. He blinked at Tony, tears in his lashes, looking kind of stunned.

“And?” Tony asked, arching a brow.

“You give really good hugs,” Peter said quietly.

Tony made an amused noise. “Five years of fatherhood taught me how.”

“How did you know that would work?” Peter’s mind was running on empty. A hug? That was it?

“What I learned from Morgan is that there are very few things that can’t be solved with a hug. It doesn’t fix everything, but it gets a foot in the door.”

“Wow,” Peter said, rubbing at his face. “Sorry I um, sorry I cried all over you.”

Tony shook his head. “You probably needed that more than the hug. Never be ashamed to cry.”

“But I know you don’t like this stuff.”

Tony was quiet. He worked his jaw a bit before looked up at Peter and saying, “I’ve had a hard time with my emotional stuff my whole life. Never known how to show it, never known how to take it. But losing half of everyone I loved at the whim of some ballsack-chinned bastard made me realize that I’m not guaranteed time. I can’t waste it pretending I don’t care about people as much as I really do. I regret the time I already wasted. And I might make a sarcastic remark, but I’m trying to do better with mine. I’m actually jealous of how in-tune you are with yours.”

Peter stared. Then a full-blow laugh exploded from him. He actually doubled over and clutched at his sides. Fuck, Peter thought, it felt really good to laugh. “Thanos’ chin,” he wheezed before falling into another fit of laughter.

Tony smirked even as his chest bloomed to hear Peter actually laugh again. “That’s what you took from that. That’s wonderful. No please, continue to laugh.”

It was only when Peter’s laughter subsided that he seemed to notice how caked in debris he was. “Oh, man, I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” he said, batting at the dust with his hands. “I’ll figure out how to clean this before I give it back.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to your aunt’s,” Tony said. “It’s freezing and you need to get the concrete out of your hair. And I would kill for a shower.” Absently he rolled his shoulders and his hand came up to massage the contact between his shoulder and his prosthetic.

Peter noticed.“You probably shouldn’t be touching that.”

“Oh my god.”

[fairsaint]

LAYER 001 :    THE OUTSIDE.

NAME  :       dwight wayne fairfield.

EYE   COLOUR  :      forest green.

HAIR   STYLE   /   COLOUR  :      short && parted on the side / almost black.

HEIGHT  :      5′4″.

CLOTHING   STYLE  :    comfy; flannels, well-worn crewnecks, jeans, sneakers with grass stains. work; black slacks / shoes / socks / tie, simple white button up. always wearing his father’s watch. 

BEST   PHYSICAL   FEATURE  :      his big ol’ doe eyes.

LAYER 002 :    THE  INSIDE.

FEARS  :      only a few of the killers still manage to elicit frozen terror in dwight rather than white hot anger, but kazan’s name will be the first on his lips if you ask him for someone specific. failing to protect && guide his fellow survivors. instability within the group leading to infighting. failing to meet expectations. his emotions getting the best of him in a situation. his watch stopping. the entity winning. being alone. nothingness. the absence of tangible anchors.

GUILTY   PLEASURE  :     i don’t know if dwight would actually feel guilty about anything he enjoys? he’s an inherently honest creature, && if it’s not hurting anyone then why should he feel bad about it?

BIGGEST   PET   PEEVE  :      being told to sit down && rest while the others take over for a bit. the man’s gotta be doing Something otherwise he’ll get antsy.

AMBITIONS   FOR   THE   FUTURE  :     none. dwight is so zeroed in on the here && now, only thinking as far ahead as the next trial, that he doesn’t allow his thoughts to linger on a life he’ll probably never live again.

LAYER 003 :   THOUGHTS.

FIRST   THOUGHTS   WAKING   UP  :     "time” before immediately checking his watch to see that it’s still ticking along, instinctively winding the crown even if he probably doesn’t need to.

WHAT   THEY   THINK   ABOUT   MOST  :      how best to prepare the others for trials where he’s not present. he’s got tables and equations and just pages of data he’s collected over the years regarding everyone’s strengths && weaknesses, how they interact with each other in certain groups, how they perform against specific killers in equally specific maps. he runs a tight ship, && the idea of leaving anything to chance makes him feel seasick. if there’s a way to run trials smoother or more efficiently, he’s probably thought about it.

WHAT   THEY   THINK   ABOUT   BEFORE   BED  :      have i done enough?

WHAT   THEY   THINK   THEIR   BEST   QUALITY   IS  :     his unwavering dedication to those around him, no matter the circumstances. you need a shoulder to cry on? he’s there for you. you’re about to take a hatchet to the back? he’ll bodycheck you out of the way && let the rusted blade dig into him rather than you.

LAYER 004 :    WHAT’S BETTER ?

SINGLE   OR   GROUP   DATES  :      single, if at all. he’s very inexperienced in that department, so something one on one allows him to open up more.

TO   BE   LOVED   OR   RESPECTED  :     respected. as important as emotional connections are for him, these are life or death situations, && when shit hits the proverbial he’s going to need to be heard && listened to.

BEAUTY   OR   BRAINS  :      mmmm brains for the most part. but dwight crushes easily, && can become enamored with a pretty face too.

DOGS   OR   CATS  :      dogs! but he also has a notable fondness for rodents.

LAYER 005 :    DO THEY…

LIE  :      dwight does not lie. it leaves him feeling gross && heavy && Wrong since he’s supposed to represent the best of us. but, he is Very good at withholding/avoiding certain truths if he believes they’ll have a negative impact on morale.

BELIEVE   IN   THEMSELVES  :     he has to && he has to let the others see it, otherwise they may not believe in themselves. a cracked foundation can lead to warped floors && unstable walls, so to speak.

BELIEVE   IN   LOVE  :      yes!!! otherwise what’s the point??? if you're surviving simply to survive, rather than to live, can you really find the worth in your efforts? there will be no fruits of your labor if all the trees have been cut down to make firewood.

WANT   SOMEONE  :      of course. but not here, not now. he’s got too much to do, too much to think about, too much to worry about. it would take nothing short of a miracle for him to relax enough to feel content with simply being && maybe settle down in some way.

LAYER 006 :    HAVE THEY EVER…

BEEN   ON   STAGE  :      does his high school graduation count?

DONE   DRUGS  :      lmao hell the fuck yeah he has. during his 20s he experimented with a grocery list of psychotropic drugs && will excitedly explain to you the process of growing shrooms if you’ve somehow fallen that far down the rabbithole of dwight’s past. also he really fuckin misses weed. god does he miss weed.

CHANGED   WHO   THEY   WERE   TO   FIT   IN  :    not really? but mostly because he didn’t exactly know how to. he does of a lot of observing, && understands a lot of things in theory, they just rarely come into fruition in practice. so, he just finds it easier to be himself (for the most part).

LAYER 007 :    FAVOURITES.

FAVOURITE   COLOURS  :      greens, burnt orange, mustard yellow, basically any gaudy color that touched the furnishings of his childhood home during the 60s.

FAVOURITE   ANIMAL  :      rats!!!!!!! dwight ADORES rats lmao he keeps trying to tame the entity - made ones in hawkins that hang out on the hooks.

FAVOURITE   BOOK  :      oof that depends on his mood. if he wants to feel all warm && fuzzy inside afterwards? white fang by jack london. if he wants to cry for like three hours afterwards? flowers for algernon by daniel keyes.

FAVOURITE   GAME  :      scrabble!!! the man’s a menace of a wordsmith.

LAYER 008 :    AGE.

DAY   THEIR   NEXT   BIRTHDAY   WILL   BE  :     february 24th!!! i once again missed his birthday! good job me lmao.

HOW   OLD   WILL   THEY   BE  :      65, but still doesn’t look a day over 30.

LAYER 09 :    FINISH THE SENTENCE.

I LOVE  :      my fellow survivors — they’re all i have.

I FEEL  :      ancient, there’s an ache in my shoulders that will never leave.

I HIDE  :      the fears sitting at the edge of my mind.

I MISS  :      my brother.

I WISH  :      to see the others free && happy, regardless of what happens to me.

TAGGED BY :   i stole it from kels oop TAGGING :    [soulja boy vc] youuuuu!

[taenys]

“does it bother you that i’m still friends with *insert ex’s name here*”

oof. wasn’t ready for that one. my brain shut down the moment he said it. the way it shuts down whenever he mentions talking to her. yes, it does bother me that he’s still friends with his ex, but not for the reasons he probably thinks and not for any reasons i felt i could share during the car ride home (honestly probably a better discussion to have in writing, i might cry in person lmao). it’s not because i’m stupid and jealous and feel "threatened.”

it’s because a few weeks ago i made the grave error of snooping deeper into her facebook, and seeing a link to her personal writing blog. i too am a writer, a poor one yes, but still. and so i wanted to see her own work, torture myself and see what kind of romantic sonnets she may have written while she was with tom. i figured they’d be beautiful. and what can i say, i love to suffer.

anyways, i went back to 2010 on her blogspot, to when they first started dating and i saw?? nothing about him? nothing about her feelings for him? which freaked me out because why wouldn’t she document her journey falling in love with tom. i mean, i certainly have on my own blog. all she wrote about was about her ex. romantic stuff about missing said ex. did i have my dates mixed up maybe? no, no. because then there was a post where she literally says she’s still in love with her ex while she’s with tom and how she knows that makes her a shitty girlfriend. um yeah. very fucking shitty. did tom know this going in? i know tom dropped everything and moved across the country for her (he told me that before), but did he do that knowing she felt this way? did he sacrifice so much of himself knowing she loved someone else? if so, why? i have to assume she was tom’s “great love,” you know? that one “epic” love of your life that presumably only happens once. which is why he was willing to do seemingly ANYTHING for her.

when i think about it now, i can’t picture tom being that way. he’s too mature and sensible now. i have to assume he learned a lot from that relationship, and a lot of his outlook on dating has shifted over the years as a result. his dating profile had something like “i’m not looking for someone to ‘complete’ me” and emphasized that he’s perfectly happy on his own. that’s definitely not the same person who dropped his whole life, school, work, family, friends, and moved across the country to be with the girl he loved...that’s the kinda shit you read in cheesy teen romance novels and corny movies (that i love, btw). but still, it was a lot. and he did that for her without hesitation. and just purely based on her personal blog ramblings, she didn’t show a lot of gratitude for it. maybe that’s just because she only chose to document the negative, i don’t know.

there was one post that she wrote like a year into their relationship where she writes about feeling like she made a mistake by being with him.  because of how affectionate he was with their cat, it made her jealous and that those affections should be for her only because they were promised to be. really? SHE made a mistake being with him? HE’S the one left it all behind to move out here and be with her. my god. it made me angry. and then months later she wrote another post saying that she doesn’t deserve tom, because of all that he did for her, and how little she’s done in return. he did his best to support her, financially (since she didn’t work) and emotionally. and she, in her own words, admits to being an “ungrateful bitch.” well, at least she was self aware because HOLY FUCK.

and then in the next few posts, just months after admitting that tom deserves better (can’t disagree there!), she’s writing about how she’s “through” with him. she insults his body/weight (which made me so fucking angry and disgusted) and then she openly admits that she’s no longer in love with him. and i look at the date on that post: 2012. they didn’t break up until 2015. i mean, fuck. there were like no posts in there about how much she loved him. little to no posts about how hard he was working, how deeply she loved him, it was like she was never actually in love with him? or if she was it wasn’t long lasting. i mean, she definitely didn’t express it in her writing. she wrote plenty of deep romantic shit about her ex before tom. but nothing for thomas, who she was with for 5 years and who he devoted so much to. and it just...killed me to see that. to think that he wasn’t loved the way he deserved to be. why did they stay together so long. how did he survive. giving so much of himself...and perhaps getting nothing much in return? it just...made me hurt. but that’s my own fault. those words were never meant for my eyes. who’s eyes were they fucking meant for, i don’t know.

she was very clearly going through a lot emotionally, she was very depressed, which i understand. fuck, do i understand. depression is the worst fucking illness. i still struggle with it every day. but it became very clear to me reading her old posts that tom’s purpose in her life was....to fix her. she wanted him to fix her. she demanded him to fix her. and him moving out here for her with the purpose of “taking care of her,” must have meant that he went in thinking he could? god, that just made me sad. using someone else to...make you better...fix your mental health...make you “whole,” relying on them completely and becoming so overly dependent on them that if they aren’t EXACTLY PERFECT ALL THE TIME, you grow to resent them and blame THEM for your mental health issues...it just...my god it was so wrong and it was so unfair to tom. 

but it’s all in the past. this is all shit from 2010-2015. it’s been 4 years. they’re still good friends! cool! but not really because i guess after reading all of that, i just came to really...dislike her, to put it mildly. yeah, i’m okay with him being friends with his ex, as long as he’s okay with me not really being her biggest fan. i’ll probably make the :/ face when he mentions her, just as a reflex. but i’m okay with that. i’m sure she’s a better person now. she’s stable, happy, married, mature, etc. but i’ve been tainted. and it sucks. ‘cause what if someday he wants me to meet her or something? i’m going to be screaming internally the entire time. when i hear her name i just think about all that stuff. i think about how much work tom put into their relationship, how much he sacrificed, how much emotional energy he poured into it, physical energy working non-stop to support her, and she was in the meantime writing about being in love with her ex, writing shit about his “belly,” and getting pissy because of much he adores his cat.

i think to myself, my god...i would never want to be friends with a former partner after going through that. if i read my ex’s blog and they had stuff like that written about me i’d never want to speak to them again (though knowing me, i would’ve been reading their blog from day one and would’ve ended it as soon as i read “yes i’m still in love with my ex”). but maybe tom never read that stuff. if so, GOOD. it’s vile and depressing and he doesn’t deserve those words. but if he had read them and he’s okay with it? then, WOW. he’s a much stronger person than i ever could be. maybe he wasn’t okay with it at first, but they’re both better now in their own separate lives and it’s been years so he’s over it? i don’t know. maybe it doesn’t matter. 

i’m caring too much about things that don’t matter anymore. i just. fuck. i love tom. so much. and reading about that part of his past made me sad. i can’t help it. i love him, i want to take care of him. i’m feeling the hurt that i (assume) he felt. the weight of all of that. i’m feeling that pain on his behalf. it’s the “empath” coming out lmao. curse my empath superpower!!!11!!1 my main thought after reading all that shit though was...tom...i’m going to love you so good. i promise. the last thing i want to do is drain you emotionally or make you feel unappreciated. because i know what it’s like. to pour your heart and soul into something, someone, for a long time, and have them take and take and take from you and give you scraps, if not nothing, in return. it’s takes the life out of you. and i never want to do that to you.

i know sometimes i get quiet. cold. distant. i’m too in my head. i’m dealing with my own depression and trauma. but it’s me, it’s not you. it’s never anything you said or did. it’s me overthinking. assuming the worst and then feeling the worst. but it doesn’t last (it might seem like it lasts longer than it does just because i am too afraid to come back to your arms for fear that you’re annoyed with me. exhausted by me. i’ve pushed you and now you won’t want me back). the quiet space i use is me talking myself down. coming back to reality. coming back to where you are. because that’s where i want to be. i’m trying. so hard. because you deserve that. i won’t ever ask you to fix me because that’s not your job.  i will work hard, okay. it won’t be easy because i’m a mess too, riddled with flaws, but i love you. that i know. you won’t have to doubt that. but we’re a team. you can trust in that. we’re in this together. i promise that i’ll always support you as much as you support me.

[al-y-aska]

Alaska Jameson: A Playlist

This playlist is inspired by her self para and song by the same name, ‘1 of those Weaks’. It’s a play on words that refers to when it’s just been ‘one of those weeks’, aka a hella rough time, and the spelling and diction emphasizes personal weaknesses.... these two things may play into each other. For Alaska, this playlist is a bit on the sadder/darker side, since she just got kicked out of the motel and is now homeless, and living behind the Ashford Community Centre isn’t all that lit.

Listen to the playlist on Spotify here

Or read below for Youtube links, significant lyrics, and a small breakdown for meanings of each song for Alaska. 

1 of those Weaks -The Neighbourhood

I don't mean to get deep, it's just 1 of those weaks Couldn't tell you the day, couldn't tell you the time Trouble falling asleep, for the past couple nights Trouble being alone, I've been losing my mind 

This song is the headline of her self para and pretty much summing up how life is going for her right now. It’s a bit less about the lyrics than some of the other songs, and more about the tone. These specific lyrics are pretty straightforward; she’s not really one to be deep or harbour self pity, she’s been high off and on, is having trouble sleeping, and feels like she’s going insane-- losing her mind. 

Take Care -Eden

And I love the rain But I can't live in a storm I've got more to come Still learning to grow

This song means and speaks a lot to her. The meaning of her name (her dad’s doing), and a lot of her personality both growing up and currently, has referrenced stormy seas, oceans, a storm, etc. This song is more of an inner battle and struggle she has with herself... she loves the rain, but realizes she can’t really live in a storm... let alone thrive or grow. The storm is her life, literally and metaphorically, but how can you leave something when it’s all you know?

ilomilo- Billie Eilish

The world's a little blurry Or maybe it's my eyes The friends I've had to bury They keep me up at night

It’s hard for Aly to tell why her life, her world, is the way it is. Is that the truth and how it is in reality, or is just her perception, emphasized by drug use? She’s had to leave and cut off ties so many times, or step on others just to survive... she can be ruthless, but you don’t have to dig very deep to find that she does genuinely feel bad about it.

Girl with No Name- Jules Larson + AG

Follow the beat of my heart And my mysterious way I draw the blurriest lines I never promise to stay I am a girl with no name

A name rooted in irony, quite literally. She is a girl with many names, thanks for taking on the alias ‘Aly James’ as opposed to her actual name, Alaska Jameson, which has been plastered on the sides of milk cartons and ‘missing’ signs. Because of that, though, she struggles with a loss of identity a little bit. She can change direction, leave, change her name, start over, at the drop of a hat... she’s vague, doesn’t give clear guidelines, and makes few promises that she can keep. While she has many, she really is a girl with now name. 

Chasing Stars -Extreme Music, Rupert Pope & Giles Palmer

I just wanna drive and drive Dancing in the dark is fine Cause I got bright lights in my mind And the colours won't fade till morning

A girl desperate to escape, both physically and mentally. Hence, her drug use. People often say ‘reach for the stars’ to their kids; Aly never quite got that chance, but in her mind she can escape and pretend to chase those stars, her dreams, and at least play pretend until the drugs wear off.

Him & I -G-Eazy & Halsey

Cross my heart, hope to die To my lover, I'd never lie He said "Be true," I swear I'll try In the end, it's him and I

Her ex boyfriend & pimp, Seth, and Alaska really had a Bonnie and Clyde type relationship... he was also quite a few years older than she, who was just a minor and teenager at the time. She knew that no matter what, she was going to go back to him and they were going to end up together-- as toxic as that might be for her. G-Eazy’s parts in this really exemplifies Seth’s view on Aly, too.

O.D.D- Hey Violet

I'm a little O.D.D Most people really don't get me I'm the girl in the back of the class Blank stare, don't care, don't ask I'm a little O.D.D And I see the way they look at me I can hear it when they talk that trash Saying "Any minute she gon' crack"

O.D.D. stands for more than just ‘odd’ here: it also stands for Oppositional Defiance Disorder, which I feel like Alaska is privy to to some extent. When she was in school while her mom was spiraling and she was bouncing from home to home, she wasn’t exactly the best student. At that point in time, she was pretty much useless, soulless. She wasn’t deaf, though, and she could hear the things that people would say about her.... and ‘any minute she gon’ crack’ was definitely used. 

Smokestacks -Layla

I got a night-time shudder and a lion within I got a brain-tricked hunger and you're pulling me in High above the smokestacks Throwin' my soul, throwin' my soul

Night becomes a bit of a hard time for Alaska, and she shudders at the many memories that haunt her, though she has strength and a strong soul inside. This all has tricked her into finding something that she feels like she’s missing, and her willingness to be persuaded and pulled in by both people, and bad situations. It’s like she’s just throwing her soul away sometimes.

Fingers Crossed -Billie Eilish

In the end, when they're all gone When the world is silent and the days are long Just you and I, we'll be alive We made it on our own

Fingers crossed: a dream, a hope, something you can only really leave up to fate. This is and was Alaska’s hope for a long time. Maybe, someday, some way, she’d end up being okay. This song is mostly centered around Seth, her ex and pimp, who she thought would be her ticket out, but only ended up dragging her down. Still, she had hopes and dreams that they could be happy, and leave a lifestyle of drugs, pimping, and trafficking.

Born To Die -Lana Del Rey 

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough I don't know why Keep making me laugh, let's go get high The road is long, we carry on Try to have fun in the meantime

Similar to Fingers Crossed, Alaska has hope that things could be good... but in the meantime, she feels like she’s just kind of floating through life. Love was never enough in her family for her. She just wants to try to happy and high more than sad and crying.... until things get figured out, might as well have fun in the meantime. 

DNA -Lia Marie Johnson

Dark as midnight Six pack Coors Light You don't look the same Hate to see you like a monster so I run and hide Hate to ask but what's it like to leave me behind

Oof. This song hits hard for her. It pretty straight-forwardly explains her relationship with her mom after her dad passed away. Her mom became an alcoholic, and completely changed from what Alaska had previously seen her as, and eventually ended in child services coming and taking her away. Moreover, she fears that she’d just ending up like her mom.... you can’t stop DNA.

So Cold -Ben Cocks

It's so quiet here And I feel so cold This house no longer Feels like home

Similarly to her situation above with her mom, it didn’t take longer after things got bad for young Alaska to feel so out of place at home... and, again, when she was bounced around from foster home to foster home and abused. It just felt cold. Dead.

6 Feet Under -Billie Eilish

I can't help but wonder If our grave was watered by the rain Would roses bloom? Could roses bloom Again?

Alaska feels like this for just about every single one of her relationships thus far-- romantic, platonic, familial, doesn’t matter. She kind of feels like she’s killed them all (see ‘ilomilo- Billie Eilish’ above), and it makes her wonder if there’s anything recoverable, if with some rain could cause roses to bloom. She’s just in so deep already, and kind of feels like she’s drowning. There’s no real way out here.

Figure it Out -Eliott

Maybe someday I could get to somewhere somehow Leave me out in the cold You know I wanna get there somehow

Once again, maybe, just maybe, Aly will be able to figure it all out and be okay... wherever that is. 

Start//End -Eden

You try to kill it but it won't stop bleeding Try to forget it but it won't stop killing you You're running out of time Yeah, you know you can't go back, it's too late To say it's too late You can't take back that you said nothing How could you do nothing 

‘Cause I been looking at the sky to show me where where I went wrong Been looking at the sky like someone was looking down But it keeps raining on me

This song is really important in emphasizing her relationship(s) with her siblings, both at the time, and as of late. She felt entirely abandoned by them after their dad died and their mom started drinking. How could Dakota and Montana see what was happening to them, to her, and do nothing? No matter how much Alaska could want to move past it or forget it, it was traumatic for her, and it changed her life forever. In many ways, that’s when life for Alaska as she knew it, ended, and her current life began. It’s too late to change anything now... to late to try and fix it. The second part is directly to/about her dad: she thought that if heaven was real, he’d always be looking down at her, protecting her... but every time Alaska would look up and pray and ask for help, nothing would happen-- things just got worse. It was like no one was even there. 

In This Shirt -The Irreplaceables

I am lost in a rainbow Now our rainbow is gone I did send you a note On the wind for to read Our names there together Must've fallen like the sea

She had always been especially close to her dad, so losing him hit Aly really, really hard. The person that had brought her such jow and light, was gone. She felt like if she thought about him enough, prayed, wrote to him, young Alaska could bring him back somehow, at least in some sense.... but there was nothing. Again with the sea reference, ironically coined and named by her dad, but nothing happened except chaos. She is lost.

When the Party’s Over -Billie Eilish

Quiet when I'm coming home, I'm on my own I could lie and say I like it like that, like it like that Let's just let it go Let me let you go

Tiptoeing around her drunk mom, not having her siblings, sneaking out of foster homes at night, running away, being with Seth, sleeping with johns... there were so many things that she either had to be quiet around, or that were quiet around her, and that Alaska had to lie about. She’d put it behind her and let it go, but it’s tied to a person... multiple people, really... herself included. Sometimes it would just be easier to give in, not fight, let that person go entirely. 

I Lost a Friend- FINNEAS

I'll be lying awake counting all the mistakes I've made Replaying fights I know I'll be alright, but I'm not tonight I lost a friend, I lost a friend I lost my mind, and nobody believes me

This song ties in a lot of themes that are reoccurring in Alaska’s life: making mistakes, regrets, fights, wanting to be alright, struggling at the moment, losing friends, siblings, parents, losing her mind, and having no one to hear her out or advocate for her. They’re life long themes that still affect her to this day. 

Ride- Lana Del Rey

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast I am alone in midnight Been trying hard not to get into trouble, but I I've got a war in my mind

Chasing Stars by Extreme Music, Rupert Pope & Giles Palmer holds a similar meaning and sentiment; wanting to chase something intangible but doing anything to get even a synthetic taste of that freedom or completeness. Her thoughts are a battlefield, a constant struggle, and that holds Alaska back a lot, or worse. 

Happy Days- Brooke Candy

It’s getting darker every day Pills to stay up Pills to sleep Pill prescription, therapy Doctor aren't we just a smile away From happy days

And so it comes full circle. All of this has contributed to Alaska’s use and abuse of both party and prescription drugs, to accomplish all of the things that she feels she cannot do on her own, including small things like sleeping, or getting actual help. If she can just pretend to smile and ‘fake it ‘til you make it’, then maybe she can blend in enough and be believable. It’s also fitting for how she concluded her actions in her self para, and wraps up this playlist and situation pretty nicely. 

[softspideys]

Popular (Peter Parker x reader)

summary: you’re popular, peter’s not. you fall in love anyway.

warnings: none

words: 2,000

pairings: peter parker x reader

a/n: hey hi hello here’s some fluffy angst, plz enjoy

There were only five minutes left until lunch, but it might as well have been five years. The hands on the clock were creeping slower by the second. All you wanted to do was get out of there.

The teacher had given up trying to get anything done, and all of your friends were chatting around you about homecoming and boys and their weekend plans, but you barely heard them. Besides, after a while the conversations all sounded the same anyway.

“Who are you going to homecoming with, Y/N?” your best friend Jenna asked, a slight sneer on her face. You were one of the only girls in your friend group who didn’t have a date yet.

“Don’t know,” you said absently.

“It’s a week from tomorrow. How do you still not know?”

You shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.” The bell rang, saving you from further interrogation. You sprang out of your seat. “See you guys later.”

“How many more tutoring sessions does she have left?” you heard Jenna complain on your way out. “Lunch is getting so boring.”

You smiled to yourself. You’d told your friends you were being tutored during lunch because you were failing chemistry, but little did they know what you were really doing.

You went to the library, hurrying to the back of the room where the supply closet was hidden behind rows and rows of books. You knocked twice, waiting until it opened.

Peter Parker stuck his head out, grinning once he saw it was you. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” you answered. “You gonna let me in or what?”

He stood back, allowing you to come inside the closet. He’d just barely closed the door and turned around when you were crowding him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Oof,” he said, instinctively grabbing your waist. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’,” you said. “Just missed you.” You said it partially because it was true, but also because you loved the goofy grin Peter got on his face whenever you said things like that.

“Missed you too,” he said quietly, leaning forward and nudging his nose against yours. You closed your eyes as he kissed you and everything else disappeared.

* * *

At first, you really had been failing chem. You were more interested in going to the mall with your friends than studying and your grades reflected that. In a last-ditch effort, your teacher paired you with a tutor, another student your age who had never gotten anything lower than an A: Peter Parker.

Things started out pretty rocky. Peter was at the bottom of the high school food chain while you were comfortably on top. You had absolutely nothing in common. He thought you were stuck-up and snobby and you thought he was a total loser.

But over time, your grades got better and your friendship with him blossomed until the tutoring sessions weren’t even necessary anymore, you just liked spending time with him. One day, while sitting at your favorite table tucked away from prying eyes, he kissed you. You could’ve sworn you heard birds singing. With him you could let your guard down and be yourself, something you couldn’t do with your friends.

Speaking of your friends, they’d never let you hear the end of it if word got out that you were dating Peter Parker. So it had to stay a secret, and these few minutes in the library’s supply closet were all you had.

You knew that Peter would’ve liked to kiss you hello and good-bye and hang out by your locker, but it just wasn’t possible. You had a reputation. What would everyone think of you?

So outside of that tiny room, the two of you didn’t speak. You didn’t even look at each other. And since Peter never said anything about it, you assumed he was fine with that too.

* * *

“You going to homecoming?” Peter asked. Lunch was twenty minutes long, so the two of you spent half of that time making out and the other half actually eating. You didn’t even mind sitting on the dirty floor to do it, not when his knees were touching yours.

You looked up from your sandwich. “Yeah, probably. Why?”

“Who are you going with?”

“No one at the moment. Why?” you repeated. You felt nervous all of a sudden, like you knew what he was going to ask before he actually did.

“Well, uh, do you wanna go with . . . with me?” He looked so hopeful, eyes bright and lips still swollen and pink, and it made you feel even worse.

“Peter . . .” you said softly. “We can’t.”

His face fell. “Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“Oh, right,” he said, and suddenly his voice had an edge to it now. “The same reason why I can’t hold your hand or tell my friends about you or even say hi to you.”

“Look, you know how my friends are!” you said, a little pleadingly. “If they found out about us they’d make our lives miserable.”

“They already make my life miserable as it is,” Peter said bitterly. “Come on, Y/N. Just say you’re embarrassed of me.”

“I’m not embarrassed of you!” you said, your voice rising. “It’s not like that at all!”

“Then what is it like? Tell me, what is it like?” He leaned forward, staring at you intently. You stared back and didn’t say anything, too angry and ashamed to even try.

“The only time I get to see you is in this stupid supply closet! Your friends still think you’re just being tutored! You won’t even look at me outside of here,” he said, his voice getting soft at the end. “Do you know how much that hurts? To know that the person I love doesn’t even want to be seen with me?”

The word love vaguely registered in the back of your brain, but you were too preoccupied to focus on that now. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“This is who I am, okay? I—I’m smart and I like books and video games and old sci-fi movies. I thought if anybody could see past that, it’d be you. I thought you’d be different,” Peter said.

It was like he’d slapped you. “I do see past it,” you said, but you knew your words were meaningless. You’d said enough already through your actions.

He shook his head. “All you and your friends care about is being popular. Nothing and no one else matters.”

“That’s not true! I’m not like them, you know I’m not!”

“You are, though,” he said flatly. “You’ve just been using me this whole time, and that makes you just as bad as them.” He got to his feet, picking up his backpack. “I gotta go.”

“Peter no, come on, please don’t go,” you begged, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say!” he snapped, wrenching open the door. “I’m done. I was an idiot for ever getting involved with you in the first place, but whatever. I’m done.”

And then he was gone, and you were alone.

* * *

You rejoined your friends at lunch again the next day, telling them your tutoring sessions had ended. “Thank God,” Jenna said. “Who was it again? That loser Peter Parker? I’d rather stick pins in my eyes then spend my lunch period with him every day.”

You desperately wanted to yell he’s not a loser, he’s funny and sweet and gentle in her face, but merely nodded, forcing a smile. Across the room, you could see Peter sitting with some of his friends. He didn’t look in your direction once.

As the days went by, you missed him more than ever. You missed sitting side-by-side in the supply closet, sharing your lunches. You missed talking on the phone late at night. You missed his smile and his infectious laugh and his soft eyes.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even talk about it with any of your friends. They didn’t know and they wouldn’t understand anyway. The only person who ever remotely understood you was . . . well, Peter.

And the more you thought about it, the more you realized how right he’d been. You were a fraud and a coward. You’d put your reputation ahead of someone you truly cared about, and now it was up to you to make it right. But how?

One night while scrolling through Instagram, you saw Jenna had posted a picture of the homecoming proposal she’d gotten from one of the football players. He’d gotten some cupcakes and spelled out HOMECOMING? in frosting on each one.

And suddenly, you had an idea.

You spent the entire night working on it, and by the next morning you were exhausted, your nervousness only amplified by the gallon of coffee you’d consumed to try and stay awake.

Jenna and your other friends were already waiting by your locker when you got to school. She furrowed her eyebrows as she read the giant colorful poster in your hands.

“‘Are you made of Copper and Tellurium? Because you’re . . . cute. Homecoming?’ I don’t get it.”

“It’s a chemistry joke,” you said flatly.

“Oh my God, does this mean you’re actually asking someone to homecoming?” she asked excitedly. You nodded. “Wow, a public proposal. Very ballsy. Who’s it for?”

No sooner had she asked when the boy in question appeared around the corner like you knew he would. “Him,” you said, nodding. You held the sign up a little higher, catching his attention. His eyes widened as he got closer.

Jenna followed your gaze, and as soon as she saw Peter she let out a loud, nasty laugh. “Oh my God. No way. You’re not seriously asking Peter Parker to homecoming, are you?” Her voice echoed throughout the hallway, causing everyone to stop and look.

Your other friends began to join in. “Come on, Y/N, he’s like the biggest loser in the school,” Jenna said. “Wait, is this like a pity ask? Is he like a charity case or something?”

Peter had stopped walking and was now standing in the middle of the hallway, clutching his backpack straps so tight his knuckles were turning white. The expression on his face was like a swift punch to the gut: you’d never seen him look so small and scared and embarrassed.

It filled your entire body with a rage unlike you’d ever known. You realized that these were the people you called your friends, people who belittled others and tormented them for fun. And you hated them.

You didn’t even hesitate with your next words. “No, it’s not a pity date,” you said forcefully, making them all stop laughing. “I’m asking him because I want to go with him, and I hope he wants to go with me.”

“But . . . why?”

You turned to look at Peter, making sure your eyes were on him the entire time. “Because he’s my boyfriend,” you said. “And I love him.”

Murmurs went up through the small crowd that had gathered, making you roll your eyes. Seriously, did people have nothing better to do with their lives?

But you ignored them, seeing only the slow smile that was spreading across Peter’s face. You started to walk forward. Peter did the same, and the two of you met in the middle.

“Hey,” you said quietly.

“Hey,” he answered. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

But you nodded. “Yeah, I did. I was an idiot. I wanted to show you that I’m not embarrassed of you. You’re like the best person I know and you mean a lot to me and I’m sor—”

Before you could finish saying the word sorry, Peter was kissing you. You could hear your (now ex) friends groaning in disgust, but other people had started to whoop and clap. None of it really mattered anyway, though. The only thing you cared about was right there in front of you.

When you finally broke apart, Peter was sporting a dopey grin on his face that you were sure mirrored yours.

You shook your sign a little. “So, what do you say? Wanna go to homecoming with me?”

He laughed and nodded. “Yeah. I would love to.” And then you kissed him again in front of everyone, just because you could.