#now i want churros really really badly

[platin-amide]

11/11 is paldean pocky day

[saucyjothoughts]

Festival sex with Jan was my umazane misli request, and I love you too. Because YAAAAAY ADDGSSTHDFH🥵🥵 that was amazing and cute and hot and so much more than I had hoped for. My heart started beating faster when I saw my request on your Tumblr and I've read it at least 7 times by now. I looooooove it.

Thank you so much! Thank you thank you thank you ❤️ The whole festival atmosphere was spot on. In my mind it never was a just-for-once-hookup and I love it that you made them actually exchange numbers. Real numbers. They will definately hook up again on the second night, won't they? The festival weekend is far from over. So if you're up for a sequel..😇

Festival Sex with Jan - Part Two

(part one here)

(nsfw under the cut)

You can still feel him on your mouth when you get back to your tent. You’re a little tender between the legs and you smell of him and he’s left marks on your neck and your friends immediately quiz you about where you’ve been. Annoying, but also kinda good for your ego.

The second day of the festival goes much like the first. Except this time, you’re checking your phone a little more frequently. Because once wasn’t enough. The sun is hot and so are you, and you’re thinking about how his body felt against yours, how his cock pulsed in your hand, how good his tongue felt against your clit. It's another day of rushing between stages and singing until your lungs are raw and indulging in greasy food and feeling your skin burn under the summer sun and meeting people with cool styles but no one grabs your interest for too long because none of them are him.

When his message finally comes through, you forget all about the next band.

Jan Nosering Festivalfuck: “Can still taste you x”

Something deep in your gut quivers. He tells you that his tent buddy suffered an injury that meant he had to leave the festival early, so he has room if you want to 'hang out' later.

It’s already dark when he meets you at the agreed place and walks you back to his tent, leading you by the hand. So it wasn’t just the beer goggles yesterday – he really is as cute as you remember. You’d missed his voice and that little smile. He sneaks you inside when the coast is clear, zipping it up behind you. It smells of grass and his dirty clothes and cologne and there’s just enough room for you to stretch out and get comfortable before he’s touching the side of your face, asking about your day. You tell him about which bands you saw while he’s running his palm over the curve of your hips and about those amazing cinnamon churros while he’s tracing his fingers along your thigh and about your friend getting one of her shoes stuck in a tree while he’s flicking gently at the spot where your nipple pokes against your top. All the while he’s listening, asking you questions, telling his own stories, and you begin to realise you might actually like him. He’s nice, he’s funny, and you need him in your mouth right now. You don't even know how badly he's been craving you all day and how greedy his body is with you finally right there under his touch.

He cranes his head back for you to devour that milky-sweet neck and this time you’re in no rush, this time the whole night is yours if you want it. The grounds are loud but his tent is a bubble and before you know it, you’ve taken his shirt off and let him remove yours and the air is steamy, heavy with tipsy-tired breath and the need for relief after a long, restless day. It’s almost too warm to be this close to him but his bare chest against yours feels so good, even though you’re both sweaty and breathless, every touch almost unbearably intense.

He’s exploring your tattoos with his gaze, his fingertips, his mouth - logging every inch of you to his memory to keep him satisfied for long after the festival is over - while you fumble out of the rest of your clothes and you can’t get over being able to see all of him, to feel him everywhere. You wonder what his job must be to have these rough but oh so delicate hands, this lithe muscle (he mentioned something about playing guitar but half the people at this festival do - he probably isn't even good) but now isn't the time for such personal questions. He has just the perfect amount of body hair across his chest and down his abs and under his navel and… how did you get down here? He shifts a knee and if you’d looked up you’d have seen him biting the back of his wrist, but your attention is squarely on the cock that gave you so much pleasure last night. The tent isn't big enough for this to be comfortable but you don't care, crouching over to take his erection in your hand and kiss at his balls as he groans in encouragement, trying to keep himself quiet. His musk fills your lungs and his body tenses in anticipation of your mouth and when you do finally take mercy on him and press your kiss against his cock, he hisses an inhale through his teeth and bucks his hips up against you. He's been dreaming of your lips all day; against his own or around his dick. Those lips, too.

You suck him leisurely, all spit and salt, cock jumping in your mouth and the taste of precum on your tongue, balls tightening until he reaches down to lift your chin.

“I need to fuck you.” His voice is delicious.

He flips you over in the cramped, sweaty little tent and tastes himself on your mouth unapologetically. On your back, he kneels between your legs and takes a moment to drink in the sight of you while he dresses his erection and then all at once he’s on top of you, as close as anyone has ever been. He explores you with his fingers first, slippery and skillful, and then it’s his cock pushing into you as you wrap one leg around his waist and he holds it for you there, rocking his hips deep into you. It’s intense and filthy, an indulgent little luxury in the liminal space of this festival, of this tent. His hair is wet with sweat - as is yours - and a bead of it drips from his brow onto your cheek which he hastily follows with his mouth, lapping it back up. He feels so good inside you. You’re eager to let go, to push through into euphoria.

He pauses. You note him hushing his breath and lifting his head, listening. There are new voices outside, close. His friends have returned. His thrusts slow but don’t stop altogether, and you can feel every inch of him as he moves. The feeling provokes an involuntary whine from your lips and Jan Nosering FestivalFuck slowly places a hand over your mouth, begging your silence. His hand is big and rough over your face and he uses just enough pressure to push the back of your head into the ground. There's naughtiness in his dark eyes, wickedness in his smile. In a playful moment, you push your tongue out to lick at his palm and he just about melts above you.

You hear voices call his name and after letting you suck on his fingers for a second, he reaches to pull a sheet over you both, covering your nakedness. Just in case anyone tries to open the tent. A part of you hopes they do.

You want to make this worse, to make it harder for him to keep his cool. You slip a hand between your hot bodies to touch yourself while he’s inside you, his cock leaping in you when he realises what you're doing. Watching him drunk on you, losing more and more control, it doesn't take long for your orgasm to hit. With the way your wet pussy clenches around his cock and how your pleasure shudders through your voice and makes you cling onto him so tightly, he's coming hard in you while you're still high. He continues slamming himself wetly into you for a long time after your peak is passed and you free fall together through the ecstasy of this intimate moment, landing softly on each other.

Afterwards, sweaty and sensitive, he continues touching you, cuddling you, your body quivering in residual pleasure. The whole tent reeks of sex and you never want to leave.

But you'll have to.

You're heading home tomorrow. You’ll never see Jan Nosering FestivalFuck again. You wonder if you'll message him anyway (maybe share some naughty pics) but it'll be pointless in the long-term. After the summer you’re moving all the way to Ljubljana to study pure mathematics at the university. Maybe you’ll find someone there to take your mind off him.

[cricketnationrise]

500 Followers! Congratulations!!!

Oooh .. for a ficlet . .

a time stamp - 1:30 pm

location - a panaderia somewhere in NYC (maybe https://donpacolopez.com/pages/press-don-paco-lopez-bakery - since its in Brooklyn?)

character - Alex Claremont-Diaz

a song title/lyric for vibes - Many the Miles ( Sarah Bareilles) https://youtu.be/L-0uUSHa8wY?si=oHzEPF8AprRM4fcB

Rating - leaving it up to your discretion

Hi hello first of all I fucking love Sara Bareilles and this song in particular is one of my favorites :D second of all writing this made me want conchas really badly. that being said - all Spanish mistakes are my own, so if anyone notices any, please let me know and I'll correct them 💜🦗

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

1:30pm, nyc panadería

Don Paco Lopez, Panadería, established 1991, in the heart of Brooklyn, New York, smells absolutely fucking amazing.

The air is thick with the smell of dough and cinnamon and chocolate and something about the mix of aromas has Alex’s choking up a little – caught in the memories of his abuelas kitchen. The place reminds him so much of summers and Christmases in Mexico that he has half a mind to book a ticket down there right now, the nostalgia is so powerful.

Through the window, Alex can see illuminated baking cases — almost empty at this hour — and a man and woman dancing and laughing behind the counter, each covered in both wrinkles and flour. He can just make out the sound of Selena through the glass door.

Without a second thought, without any regard for his carefully structured schedule, Alex steps inside, the bell over the door jingling merrily. 

The dancing couple breaks apart at the noise, smiles still firmly in place, and moves to their stations before freezing in place, mid-greeting, as she recognizes him as the son of the President.

“¡Hola! Bienvenido a— ¡Dios mío, eres tú!”

Alex slips into Spanish as easily as breathing. “Culpable de los cargos,” he says, a sheepish grin on his face. “Huele increíble aquí. Al igual que recuerdo la cocina de mi abuela.”

“Muchas gracias.” They both still look stunned he’s in their shop. “Estamos horneando para la próxima orden de catering.”

The knowledge that this panadería does catering has Alex’s brain going a mile a minute. He scans the cases, searching for his favorites. Pan de muerto chico, tamales dulces, rosca de reyes, churros, cuernito, niditos—and there, in the far corner, Alex’s favorite: conchas.

“Bueno, quiero esa última concha de chocolate, pero también voy a hacer algunos pedidos de catering.”

“¿Algunos? ¿Cómo en múltiples?”

“Sí,” Alex says, letting his grin go a little wicked. “No puedo dejar que los niños del Refugio Okonjo tengan todas las golosinas, ¿verdad?”

The Lopezes laugh, albeit a little hysterically, as a timer goes off in the back. Paco excuses himself to the ovens with a gesture to his wife. “Mi esposa puede ayudarle con su pedido, Sr. Claremont-Díaz.”

“¡Llámame Alex!” he calls after Mr. Lopez. He lowers his voice back to normal volume as he turns to Mrs. Lopez. “Por favor, insisto.”

“Bueno… Alejandro. ¿Qué podemos hacer por ti?”

He chuckles, visions of piles of pastries dancing in his head. “¿Tienes un bolígrafo y papel a mano?”

Mrs. Lopez’s eyes crinkle with amusement as she clicks her pen and hovers over an order pad. “Estoy lista.”

Alex lets the words fly, making up the order for the shelter on the spot. Día de los Muertos is coming up, and there’s enough kids at the shelter who haven’t gotten a proper celebration of the holiday in a while that will practically die with happiness when he drops the baked goods off.

For his own order, he’s been homesick for Mexican baking for a while. He can make a mean mole, throw kick-ass enchiladas in the oven, even put together a salsa that June said was on par with their abuelo. But Alex doesn’t have as much time, or frankly the patience, to turn out conchas and other sweet breads that his abuela still makes once a week. He orders way more than he’ll ever be able to eat before it goes stale, but he doesn’t care. Henry will at least try each variety, and Alex can always bring any extras to class or his review session. 

Mrs. Lopez won’t hear of him paying full price, and Alex can’t fathom paying anything less. Mr. Lopez finally interrupts their standoff with a suggestion of thirty percent off for the shelter. That, Alex will accept—he’ll do anything for Henry and Pez’s dollars to stretch further to help queer kids. Mrs. Lopez still looks grumpy, but she concedes to Alex paying full price for his own order as well. (Alex will leave a big tip when he picks up both orders, whether she likes it or not.)

He thanks them again, setting a pick up time for both orders and leaves with his chocolate concha and a wide smile on his face. Henry and the rest of his family are going to make so much fun of him for the sheer volume he ordered, but in Alex’s defense, he was left unsupervised.

Translations: Hello! Welcome to— Oh my God, it’s you! Guilty as charged. It smells amazing in here. Just like I remember my grandma’s kitchen. Thank you so much. Well, I want that last chocolate concha, but I'm also gonna place some catering orders. Some? As in multiple? Can’t let the kids at the Okonjo Shelter have all the goodies, now can I?  My wife can help you with your order, Mr. Claremont-Díaz. Call me Alex! Please, I insist. Okay, Alex. What can we do for you? Got a pen and paper handy? I’m ready.

[soulcheri]

As he talks, Brooke listens, turning her whole body inward to face him. She enjoyed watching his eyes light up as he pondered the differences between having a son or daughter with her. It was nice to know the topic didn't scare him off or weird him out. Most guys would've ran at the first sign of their girlfriend displaying any baby fever. Your twenties were supposed to be carefree, not tethered or tied down by a family. It took Brooke awhile to accept that her twenties would look different than her peers. And so would Tyler's. Once he discovered the truth. The more time that passes, the more anxious Brooke gets. She's been acting so crazy lately. And this one thing would explain why that is. The longer she waited, the more mad she risked him getting that she didn't share this news with him sooner. But, she had to wonder if there was any possible way telling him right now would backfire or blow up in her face. "Tyler....." I'm pregnant.

The words never leave her lips on behalf of the child, they'd been previously watching. She ran smack dab into Tyler's back when trying to catch her latest bubble. "Oh my god. I am so sorry! Please forgive us. Aurora, what did I tell you about blowing bubbles near strangers?" The mother of the child continued to apologize profusely before she swept up little Aurora up in her arms and carried her back to their family's table while she kicked and screamed to keep playing. It was only after they were left alone again that Tyler's prior question finally registered. "I wouldn't care. I think I could love both equally. I would just want him or her to be healthy and happy." It seemed like such a cop out answer but it was true. So long as she didn't give birth to an alien she'd be fine. "Our baby isn't the only person I wish health and happiness on, though." There's a pause as she eyes him expectantly. "I want that for you, too." More than anything, Brooke just wished she could take away his pain and absorb it all herself. She attempts to, as she runs her fingers through his hair and leans up to finally return his kiss with fervor. He needed to know that despite their fights and how insanely neurotic she gets, her feelings haven't changed. She hoped by kissing him with the same, usual intensity, that would hopefully drive the point home.

The public display lasted for a few minutes, with Brooke eventually deepening it with tongue. He tasted less like vodka now and more like warm, decadent hot chocolate. "I'm worried about you," Brooke whispers once their kiss comes to a slow stop and her hand crawls up his chest. She meets his eyes only for hers to be filled with sadness. "What you said in texts last night, about feeling like you're drowning.... and finding you this morning hungover.... I'm concerned. Even the other night when you showed up at my party, your knuckles were bruised really badly. They still are." She pauses just to check, running her fingers over the dark purple blotches. "I can tell you haven't been sleeping. Are you having nightmares again? Would you tell me if something was wrong or I could do anything to help make it better?" He just said she saved him but, right now she doesn't feel like much of a savior at all. When she's the reason he's been feeling so powerless and overwhelmed. "I'm sorry about last night. And for being so neurotic these past couple of weeks. If you knew why, you'd understand. And I hope you wouldn't be upset when I tell you that I'm----"

"There you guys are. Please tell Isa, men do not bob for apples." The innuendo alone makes Volchok feel gay, as he sits down across from their friends. "Oh cool. A churro. I'm starving." Without even asking, Kev picks up the long cinnamon-sugar coated treat and takes a huge chunk out of it. "You guys wanna hit the cornmaze? See which one of us makes it out first?"

With his arm extended over Brooke's shoulders, Tyler caresses her arm in soft and affectionate strokes. He's not mindful of it, she just brings out this tenderness in him that he can't explain. It's a true testament to the nature versus nurture theory. If a person's characteristics are formed by their upbringing then Tyler should have been less capable of developing a love language based on physical intimacy. In spite of this, Tyler feels most loved whenever they are cuddling, hugging, or taking romantic baths together.

He was taking a careful sip of his hot chocolate when Brooke pointed out the little girl blowing bubbles into the air. Children were always his weak spot. They were so happy, innocent, and their bright, wondrous eyes were filled with magic. Unfortunately, Tyler wasn't afforded that same luxury growing up. He didn't get to build tree houses, make sand castles on the beach, or blow bubbles at a festival. Instead, he was made to scrub floors at the orphanage, wash dishes, and go to bed at night without parents. Christmases, Easters, Thanksgivings -- they were hardly ever celebrated. He never stayed with a family long enough to be included in their traditions. So when he turned twelve, he let his hope die. Then at sixteen, he promised himself he would have his own family someday. That was around the time he met Jake, Brooke, and Nina. The town events, family gatherings, and vacations -- they gave him hope. That's why Rebecca McKenzie sent him to France. She wanted to show him that anything could be possible with the right people. And she was right, because that was the night he took Brooke's virginity and fell in love with her.

"Yeah, she's adorable." Tyler smiles as a bubble pops on his head. Brooke's question takes him by surprise at first but, in a good way. He never gave much thought to what gender he would prefer if he was ever lucky enough to become a dad. "Having a little girl would be nice. If she has your pretty eyes I would be wrapped around her finger. So that would be bad. How would I be expected to tell her no? I can't even tell you no." Brooke could ask him for literally anything and he would give it to her. They weren't even supposed to be together because of the Vipers threat against her, but he couldn't stay away. Then he made things public this morning when he uploaded a picture of them to his Instagram. That was his way of telling Brooke, he belongs to her. This way she won't ever have to question that again. "I wouldn't want my son to have any tattoos, though. I got mine because I wanted to look different. I didn't want to be a pretty boy. I needed to be tough, guarded. I wanted people to be afraid of me. If I have a son, he'll be loved. He won't want to spread fear to other people. He'll have too much love in his heart for that." Tyler smiles and looks up at her. They were close enough for their faces to touch. "But if we have a boy and a girl. Then he has to be tough. Because he'll have to protect her. Or maybe she'll be the one protecting him. If you taught me anything, its that girls can save boys too. You saved me. You save me every day you're here." To bring things back around, he takes her hand into his. "What about you? Would you want a little girl who you can teach ballet to and go shopping with? Or a little boy who will protect you from monsters and dragons?"

[bloodgulchblog]

Halo Cookbook post...

Here's the thing, Halo blog, it would be incredibly easy to dunk on the Official Halo Cookbook. We've all been doing it since it was announced. I certainly have. But here's the other thing, Halo blog: It's October 31st, everything is cold and miserable and wet, and... I don't know.

I just don't feel much like dunking.

The Halo Cookbook, unlike most of what I've been looking at lately, was put together by a single, identifiable author instead of a group. Here's an interview about it. Tl;dr: She loves finding mentions of food in video games, it's genuinely pretty endearing to me. Most of the mentions of food we get in Halo are in background details of a few restaurants, and offhand mentions (usually of things people miss) so there's not much to work with here, and that explains how kind of weird this is as a food book.

(That link also has some of the interior art, which is nice but the kindle format does it no favors.)

The recipes are grouped based on places where its in-universe writer, Arturo, encountered them. The Vending Machines section in particular is pretty funny, but also.... yeah, we're talking about food seen in Halo background details here. So, sure.

You could fill a thimble with what I know about cooking (it's embarrassing honestly) so I cannot really provide much about the food itself, but I do know lore.

So, here's the lore.

Our man is Arturo, who used to work for a large fruit vending corporation. Since retiring, he has decided to write a cookbook collecting recipes he encountered in his travels.

It's pretty wild jumping out of that intro into our first section: World Cuisine (courtesy of Halo: Reach). That's kind of par of the course.

In-universe writing about a chain restaurant on a dead planet, there u have it, folks.

Even the Halo Cookbook recognizes that some of this is also kind of silly:

I'm just giving you guys the section frontpieces and anything I think is mildly interesting.

Solemnly removing my cap for the author trying to figure out how to fit these in:

Good news, we have ANIMAL LORE:

Okay, I'll include the photo of the Obligatory Gamer Fluid

More fast food AND animal lore

Moa, the other red meat

Halo knowledge public CONFIRMED!!!!!

Did you remember Enzo's from Halo 5? Me neither. Honestly I'm always so sad about how much background detail and work went into 5 for me to hate its plot so badly.

Halo knowledge public DOUBLE CONFIRMED!!!

Once again, everyone involved is aware this is silly

Infinite multiplayer makes an appearance:

We're back in vintage Halo town:

Alright, we're on the Infinity now.

Is this a thing? It's cute.

We have a reference to Lasky here, that's a Corbulo Academy flag:

Alright, congratulations, you made it through this with me.

Have a churro.

(If you ask nice and really want, I'll shoot you a pdf.)

[hajimeiwaswife]

WHAT A SIMP | CHAPTER 19: LIGHTS

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A/N: Hello! I hope you guys like this chapter, and I'm really sorry for the delay. I want to say, the reader doesn't have a skin colour or a religion marked, that's why she always uses yellow emojis as a way to not specify her skin colour. If that isn't a way to do so, please let me know! And for her religion: not specified either. In here she's enjoying Christmas decoration, but she doesn't have to celebrate it or be a christian! That's up to you, guys.

"Mikey! Mikey! Look!" you exclaimed excited.

The blond man turned to the direction you were pointing. Trees decorated in golden lights, a huge building covered in red and green lights towered over the street. All mixed with the remaining autumn colours. A wonderful and romantic sight, indeed.

Mikey smiled and looked at you, who looked like a little kid jumping and giggling at the lights performance in front of you. He sighed completely enamoured with you, he wanted to kiss you so badly, but he hadn't even confessed officially to you.

"So beautiful." he replied while looking at you.

"I know, right? The decoration is just straight out of a Christmas Carol!" you continued oblivious to the way Mikey was looking at you.

He had been thinking for a while to ask you to be his girlfriend, especially after the way you two had been speaking the previous week. He knew you had started to like him, even if it was just a little bit, but he could see how you smiled near him, how you would start to feel nervous when he stared at you a little bit more than normal, how your eyes sparkled every time you saw him. He knew, and he was dying to enjoy loving you and being loved by you.

Meanwhile, he had to conform with walking around Tokyo watching you become a little version of yourself every time something related to Christmas decorations appeared. You two had been strolling around and had stopped at a nearby coffee shop to drink some hot chocolate with churros.

Then, you two kept walking and observing the night of the city filled with lights and giant signs.

And then, right at that moment, Mikey felt something take his right hand. He looked down and saw how you timidly took it. Shocked and completely broken as a machine, he started trembling. Was it real? Were you taking his hand? It was so warm, you were so warm, and it was so soft and small compared to his... He intertwined his fingers with yours, his cheeks pink because of the cold and the shyness. When you didn't complain and kept your hand there, he looked up and stared at your eyes, who were already focused on him, and an expression of embarrassment filled your face.

He could die at that exact moment. No, he hadn't kissed you yet, but that action was enough to confirm him what he already knew: you had fallen for him the same way he had fallen for you a long time ago.

"Y/n," Mikey began, stopping near the river, under a tree with pink lights hanging out of its branches "I need to ask you something."

You stopped too, your hand still in Mikey's, and attention focused only on him. "Yes?"

He breathed deeply, it was now or never. He was looking straight into your eyes and only adoration and sincerity could be seen in them. "I know we still have to get to know each other more, and if you don't want to then it's okay, I can wait, but..." he began rambling, nervously.

You giggled, enchanted by his behaviour, he was so cute. "You can ask me anything, Mikey, don't be so nervous." you tried to encourage him.

He nodded and gulped, opening his mouth again to ask what he really wanted. "I was wondering if... only if you want, of course... If you could be my g- If we could dat- Ugh, I don't know how to ask this!" he cursed at himself. He had never been the type to hesitate, to doubt, to feel nervous, but since he met you, he was a mess around you.

"Are you asking if I want to be your... girlfriend?" you asked, confused and somewhat hopeful.

"Y-yes." whispered Mikey after a few seconds processing your words.

It felt like ages while he waited for your reply, wanting nothing more than to finally be able to call you his, and for him to be yours, completely yours. He was already devoted to you, after all.

"I would love to." you smiled, giggling lightly at the thought of falling in love with him. Who could have told you some months ago that you would end up like this? He had opened a path to your heart little by little "But I think we should take it slowly."

"Of course! I think the same." said Mikey out of breath, his hand tightening around yours in a way to keep him standing, the woman of his dreams was accepting his offer after months of being in love with her.

The two of you stood there, in silence, observing the other and their reaction, waiting for something to impulse you both to do what you two had been thinking about the whole evening. The winter wind pushing you two closer, the sound of the river nearly covered by the noise of the city singing a romantic melody.

"Can I kiss you?" whispered Mikey, his eyes rotating between your eyes and your lips, breath faltering at the thought of your lips on his.

"Yes." you affirmed in the same state as he was.

And then, he closed the gap and his lips were on yours. At first, it was a light friction, as testing the ground. But then, your lips started moving, kissing him delicately, and his reciprocated. The taste of chocolate still present in both of your lips, and his tongue, which was asking for permission caressing your lower lip.

Your right hand went to his cheek and the other went to his neck, his hands travelled all the way to your waist, hugging you tighter to him. There was nothing else in your mind, only his kisses under the magical night of Tokyo and its lights.

"So they are official." murmured Kazutora while looking at his mobile phone screen.

"It seems so." answered Yuzuha, sighing "We owe her an apology."

"You both really do!" exclaimed Emma from behind, hands on her hips "And when she tells us about Mikey and her, we will all congratulate her, understood?"

Everyone nodded, including Kazutora. He had already decided a long time ago he would give up on her, then, why was he feeling so heartbroken?

Tag list: @mizumellon @wakasagurl @sseorin @konigasaki @chaoticyuna @akqshie @sunahyejin @lagrimasdeglitter @q-the-rockaholic @akisrandom @rorobaijifuyu @invaderzia1 @massivebde @yukihime-mikeys-girl @rietvellld @kawasbaby @psmslove @manjirosdoll

[s1utspeare]

Hi darling

You write such an awesome metas on fictional character so I wanted you to ask that what's your thought on Huo Dao Fu.

��

AH OMG!!! Your ask could not have come at a better time, cause I have a feeling this man’s gonna be an important part of my next fic, so I really should start figuring him out. He’s SUCH A LIL WEIRDO??? honestly i love him, even though he’s a total Bitch 97% of the time, but I think at heart he’s just Looking For Something, as are all the characters in this show. 

What really interests me about Huo Daofu are his character parallels with Wu Xie, and I think that’s where most of the conflict between them comes in. Wu Xie, whether he means to be or not, is the Focus of Jiumen a good seventy-five percent of the time. Not always in a positive manner, because in Sha Hai they were all about ready to kick his ass, and in Reboot he pisses them off pretty good with his Warehouse Eleven stunts, but there’s a level of attention on him that other members of the families don’t receive, and I think Huo Daofu notices that, and is like “hey wait a minute why is he getting all the spotlight I want some spotlight >:( He’s not even doing a good job why is everyone paying attention to him”

Cause this bitch. THIS BITCH. He tried to be that bitch. He TRIED SO HARD. He went to EUROPE. He went to EUROPE and got a fucking like??? medical degree???? Like he went to GERMANY??? who does that?? not fucking wu xie, that’s who. Wu Xie went and got like a history degree or some shit which was just par for the course. But HUO DAOFU. He was DIFFERENT. He was gonna be THE SHIT. He was gonna be the unabomber of Jiumen, was gonna blow all that shit up and then say “fuck u” and all the future generations of Jiumen children were gonna hear horror stories about how Unique and Wild Huo Daofu was and he was never gonna have to deal with any of them ever again. 

BUT THEN WU XIE DECIDED TO BE PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE AND HE DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING OFF THE BEATEN PATH. HE LITERALLY JUST FOLLOWED WU SANXING AROUND FOR LIKE. A YEAR. AND EVERYONE LOST THEIR MINDS. Like if I had been Huo Daofu and tried SO HARD to be different from everyone else in my generation and then this Dumb Little History Twink kissed a Zhang and found some wild swamp treasure and everyone went nuts about it, I would have been pissed off too. 

Cause Jiumen is like. Annoying as hell, and everyone has a different way to deal with the fact that they’re a part of a treasure hunting org that has been around for hundreds of years and features immortals and weird-ass dudes with unbelievable martial arts skills and also Wu Sanxing. Xiaoge deals with them by Fucking Off Forever. Zhang Rishan deals with them by being The Most Competent Person In Any Given Room, and Huo Daofu deals with them by being The Biggest Bitch He Can Be, which isn’t even that much of a bitch, because there is always going to be a bigger bitch in Jiumen, and his name is Wu Xie. So it just backfires on him, because NO ONE GIVES A SINGLE FUCK. 

We’re introduced to him at Xiao Hua’s fake funeral (which lmao i love that) when he’s making some Evil Plans with the rest of Jiumen, but not for the same reasons, cause when they actually get to the desert, Huo Daofu does not care about the treasure pits. He doesn’t even go down into Gutongjing (I’m pretty sure), he just hangs out in the camps because he doesn’t CARE about the treasure, he just wants to keep Wu Xie from succeeding, wants to say, see, look, I can do things too, I can be clever and cunning, I can take them all down from the inside out and I don’t even need friends to do it. 

Huo Daofu is jealous of Wu Xie, I think, because Wu Xie is free of the confines of Jiumen, and Wu Xie has friends, and Wu Xie didn’t have to go to another country where he knew no one and didn’t even speak the language and work so hard and be fucking brilliant in ways that no one knows about and doesn’t always, always get overlooked in favor of someone who disregards everyone’s favor, but receives it anyway. 

So when Pangzi shows up with Wu Xie, half-dead, on Huo Daofu’s doorstep, I think a little vindictive part of him goes serves him right. 

But Huo Daofu is not a part of Jiumen in the ways that matter, and he’s a doctor, first and foremost. He took oaths because he wants to help people, he wants to save them, and even if he hates Wu Xie down in the pits of his stomach, he’s not just going to let him die. And so he follows Wu Xie to thunder city because, as he says, “I want to be there when you die.” He’s not going to kill him, he can’t do that, he’s a doctor, but that small, mean part of him wants to watch Wu Xie fall. 

(Also I love @kholran’s headcanon that Huo Daofu is Wu Xie’s bitchy ex, bc like YES??? OF COURSE???? like they had an on-again, off-again thing cause they were like “we’re not doing this with the Jiumen women” but they’re WAY TOO ALIKE and just ended up fighting all the time.)

Reboot loves the Rule of Threes, which is where an idea is repeated three times in order to create a pleasing pattern. Human brains love patterns, and so when we see the Iron Triangle, when we see the three pills that mark the stages of Wu Xie’s illness, when we see the three missing people from Sanshu’s journey, our brains go oh that’s important (and Reboot ALMOST kills the game, ALMOST knocks it out of the park, but then they have FOUR story arcs instead of THREE, and it drives me ABSOLUTELY FUCKING INSANE. WHY DID THEY DO THIS. WHY). 

And Huo Daofu is a FANTASTIC tri-tier replica of Wu Xie’s Greatest Hits, which are: 

Being a sort of outcast/family runaway (Wu Xie has very clearly said Fuck Everyone Who Isn’t Sanshu, and Huo Daofu has aligned himself with the Chen clan, because the Huo’s are like Fuck Men (which honestly good for them but pLEASE love ur special doctor boy he’s getting a Complex))

Acting based almost Solely on Emotions when in the Heat of the Moment (i.e. dropping his entire life to go play doctor with a man who will not calm down for any length of time in order to actual REST)

Solving problems that no person should be able to solve because he’s smart as shit 

Narratively, he’s a FANTASTIC foil for Wu Xie, because not only does he essentially hold this man’s life in his hands, but because he is what Wu Xie could have been if he hadn’t met Pangzi or Xiaoge, if he hadn’t had support from other people. And I don’t think that’s Huo Daofu’s fault, because he and Wu Xie are so, so similar. He just never got the people he needed, and its so clear that he’s achingly alone all of the time, so no wonder he’s jealous of Wu Xie and wants to become part of this little group so damn badly, even as he’s protesting and saying, “no, no, I want you to die, literally nothing would give me more pleasure, please die right now, I’m waiting.” 

Sure, he’s a flipper-flopper ass bitch, but he’s trying his best with what he’s got, and shit, that’s not a lot. He’s got zero support system. I mean why the fuck is he making street churros? Even Zhang Rishan, who has NO culinary expertise or connections whatsover, gets to live in a restaurant, while Huo Daofu has to make fried dough in an alley and then keep people from choking on their own lungs on his damn kitchen table. Someone please help this man. 

this is SO LONG i’m sorry but essentially I think that Huo Daofu is Like That because he’s trying so hard to be someone, and no one is paying any attention, and the person he would most relate to, Wu Xie, is off doing God knows what with his polycule of friends and Huo Daofu’s all by himself and like??? i would be SO FRUSTRATED??? please give this man a break and also give him Love??? like, this screenshot speaks VOLUMES (photo credit to @hey-its-wei) 

LOOK AT HIM!!!!! LOOK AT HOW FUCKING HAPPY HE LOOKS!!!! JUST TO BE THERE!!!! WITH A GROUP OF PEOPLE!!!!! WHO HAVE SEEN HIM AND LISTENED AND SAID “hey, you can come with us, we’ll take you, you don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

I said earlier that Huo Daofu, like everyone else in this series, was Looking For Something. And like many of our beloved Wu Crew, he was looking for a family. And look! He found them :)

[artist-tae]

fate

Summary: You and your tattoo ex Jeon Jungkook have been broken up for the past 2 years. But what happens he enters your life again when you just have gotten over him?

Pairing: jungkook x reader, reader x jimin

Genre: angsty af, tattoo artist Jungkook, eventual smut (?), break up!au

words: 3.3k

Chapter 2/6   (1) (3) (4) (5) 

Present time

“Wake up ____!”

Your face was hit by the softness of a pillow. You groaned and threw your arm over your head as protection. Coldness when hit you when your duvet was ripped away from your body. If you weren’t so tired you probably would have screamed.

“Why are you so sleepy?”

You didn’t respond and buried your head into your pillow.

“Are you dead?”

You finally opened your eyes just halfway to look at the intruder in your room.

“10 more minutes Jimin.”

A scoff was heard from the man. Suddenly a hand wrapped around your ankle and you were yanked out of your soft bed onto the ground.

“Jimin, I swear to god!”

You rubbed your eyes awake and to avoid staring at the man who rudely woke you up.

“Come on ____, you promised you would come today.”

You finally fully opened your eyes to stare up at Jimin. He held out his hand to help you up and you accepted it.

“Okay Jimin, but please leave my room so I can get changed!”

Thankfully that made him leave. Your roommate had been going on about a new fair that had just opened in your area. You had never planned on visiting it as the last time you went to the fair you threw up the churros you had that night. Also you were with the person you only recently had gotten over.

But you felt bad for Jimin as you had been busy with school and deadlines that you two hardly got to spend time with one another. You first met Jimin in your first year of college. He lived next door to your dorm. Initially, you two were enemies. Your food would always go missing and you took forever in the shower. It wasn’t until you both ended up stumbling home drunk together that your friendship bloomed. Ever since then he has been your closest friend. Eventually, you and he decided that the student dorm weren’t for you two anymore and decided to rent an apartment.

You got ready and made your way into the kitchen. The biggest pro about living was Jimin – he was an amazing cook. The smell of blueberry pancakes reached your nose and your pace picked up a bit. He stood in the kitchen with his apron on flipping a pan of pancake batter.

“Did the smell of pancakes bring you back to life?”

You gave him your most sarcastic smile while grabbing your coffee cup. Jimin thankfully had the coffee machine on and filled with your favourite coffee.

“Why do you want to go to this fair so badly?”

You questioned him while pouring your coffee. He rolled his eyes and threw the completed pancakes onto your plate.

“You are honestly no fun ____. It’s just school and sleeping with you?”

His annoying attitude made you sigh. You just wanted to eat pancakes. You knew you liked keeping yourself busy with school. It helped keep your mind off things that were worrying you. Although you enjoyed having fun, you preferred having it in small doses.

“Sorry Jimin. I promise we’ll have fun and maybe we could go out to a club or something with our friends later?”

Jimin's demeanour immediately shifted and his eyes softened when he looked at you. A smile spread across his entire face. He pushed the plate of pancakes towards you.

“Sounds like a plan ____.”

An hour later, you and Jimin had left your house and were walking towards the fairground. The smell of cotton candy and the yelling of children indicated you were getting closer. Jimin started to jump in excitement. He grabbed your wrist to keep up with his pace.

“Come on ____!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his dorkiness. Jimin had really taught you to indulge in the little things in life. Even if it was just a fairground.

When you both finally reached the fair, Jimin immediately went over to the prize-winning stalls. He looked almost like a child as he rushed you towards them, the fairy lights hitting his skin so beautifully.

People always wondered why you and Jimin were never an item. You honestly didn’t know why either. When you first met him you were still getting over your breakup and wasn’t looking for love. Jimin also wasn’t interested as he wanted to focus on school. You both also regularly hooked up with people and the other person couldn’t care less. You sometimes just felt like he was a big brother to you. He just wants to make sure you’re safe and happy. You never had that spark of love that you felt and he gave no indication that he was interested romantically for you.

“I’m going to win that bear!” He said with too much confidence in his tone.

His finger was pointed to a large fluffy white bear clutching a cartoon heart. It was silly but cute. Jimin marched over to the stall. He was surrounded by little children which made him look a giant towering over them. You could feel the second-hand embarrassment overwhelm you so much that you had to look away and laugh.

When it was Jimin’s turn he slammed his money on the table. The aim of the game was to shot down the metal cups stacked up with a fake gun. A massive scam you thought but Jimin was determined to win. He overdramatically picked up the gun and loaded it. All the children were watching with excitement. He brought the gun up to rest near his eye. Surprisingly, you could feel the tension the children and Jimin had. He wrapped his finger around the trigger. He took the smallest sigh to relax himself.

“This one is for you ____”.

He said as he pulled the trigger. A large bang from the gun came out as the plastic bullet was fired. Along with it was the clashing of the metal cups all falling over. You didn’t even notice that your mouth had dropped. The children roared and cheered Jimin with joy. Jimin blushed and shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing. You couldn’t help but cheer for him

“Great-

-Shot!” You yelled at him. Jungkook smirked and grinned at you. He pointed to the bear and asked for it. He carried it towards you and made it wave at you. You rolled your eyes at him. He could be such a goofball sometimes. You took the bear off him and he interlocked your hand with his. You both walked around the fair. The fairy lights made Jungkook look almost angelic even though he was more ink than actual skin. He was honestly beautiful.

“What are starting at?”

He questioned looking down at you. You were caught red-handed gushing over him. But you didn’t care, you wanted him to know that he was pretty.

“My boyfriend is so handsome.”

You replied in a giggly voice. He immediately lost his cool appearance and you saw him blush. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Ohh is my Jungkookie blushing?”

You rested your head on his shoulder. He looked at the ground in hopes that you wouldn’t see him smiling like an idiot. You loved seeing him embarrassed with compliments.

“Stop it ____.”

He threatened as he could still see you enjoying watching him suffer. But his threat fell upon deaf ears.

“I can’t help it! My baby is so cute and precious! I love him so much!”

You proceeded to wrapped your small arms around his waist and squeezing him tightly. He let out the cutest giggle you’ve ever heard. You were smiling, pleased with yourself that you were making Jungkook relaxed for once.

“Okay that’s it!”

He yelled at you. He used his superior strength and spun around and before you knew it you were lift off the ground.

“Jungkook, stop it now!!”

You squealed like a child. He laughed hard and spun you around. You could feel the strange looks you were getting from passing people. Jungkook couldn’t care less. He wanted to show everyone that you two were a couple.

“This is so corny!”

He soon placed you back down onto the ground. You could feel the dizziness of him spinning you around. You looked up at him with a look of annoyance. He just smirked back down at you enjoying seeing you pissed. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your forehead.

You both continued walking until Jungkook stopped in front of the ferris wheel. He raised his eyebrow looking at you.

“Shall we?”

He said in a posh accent. He held his hand out to you and you gladly accepted. Jungkook paid and you both sat down on the seat. As you both sat waiting for the ride to start you let out a small shiver. Jungkook immediately turned to protective mode.

“Are you cold?”

He said concerned. You shook your head. He rolled his eyes and removed his long wool coat and threw it over your shoulders. You were thankful he didn’t get onto you about not bringing a coat when he told you to. You thanked him and secured the coat over you. He gave your hands a rub when he felt how cold they were. The ride began with a jolt and soon you and Jungkook were both in the air.

It was one of the most peaceful moments in your life. As you got higher the children’s screams were less loud and there was a light breeze. You were basking in this when Jungkook spoke up.

“Where do you see us?”

He asked. You weren’t expecting such a loaded question.

“What?”

“In the future. What do you see us doing?”

You stared at him in thought. You honestly haven’t thought about the future. You were just focused on school and your relationships. All you knew is that college was the main plan. Other than that nothing crossed your mind.

“I don’t know.”

You replied honestly. Jungkook laid his hand on your thigh. He starred at you with a hint of seriousness.

“I was thinking. If you wanted to of course. My roommate is moving out of the apartment. So I thought maybe I could move out as well and get a nicer apartment. And maybe we could move in together. Like when you go to college.”

You looked at him for what felt like five minutes. He was asking you to move in together after you finished high school.

“I know it’s a stupid idea. I just thought that we were getting serious now.”

You quickly pecked him on the lips to shut him up.

“I would love to Jungkook.”

A smile immediately spread on his face. His eyes danced all over your face as if to check if you were being serious. In happiness, he cupped your face and kissed you slowly.

“I love you so much baby girl.”

He whispered and returned back to kissing your lips.

“Say it back baby.”

“I love you Jungkook.”

You both sat kissing each other's faces until the ride stopped. You and him both hooped off and suddenly the smell of food entered your nostrils. Jungkook looked down at you beaming.

“Churros?”

Jimin strutted over to you, keen to show off his winning prize. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. He held it out to you as an offering.

“There is barely any room in my bedroom for that.”

You explained laughing. He pouted and held it under his arm. The rest of the day with Jimin was lovely. You and he both ate cotton candy and people watched. You went on a lot of fun rides which made you scream and laugh. Jimin forced you to go on the scary ghost ride with him which nearly made you die of fear. You had your face buried in his shoulder the entire ride while he bellowed with laughter.

Before you both realised the sun was about to set. Jimin’s skin was literally glowing from the sun’s kisses. You couldn’t help to admire his looks. He was very handsome. Even when his hair was messed up from all the rides you and he had been on.

“Do I have food on my face?”

He asked unknowingly. You snapped out of your daydream and shook your head.  You could have sworn that you saw Jimin smirk when he continued walking.  You decided to switch the conversation to avoid any more embarrassment.  

“So are you going to invite that girl you’ve been talking to?”

You questioned him, giving your eyebrows a sly wiggle. Jimin acted confused.

“Huh? Who are you talking about?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed at his ambiguity.  

“You know who I’m talking about Jimin, the girl that’s been coming over to our flat in the late hours.”

You dragged your words, teasing him. You bet he thought he was being sneaky bringing the girl in his maths class home. You honestly didn’t really mind. However, there had been a few incidents where due to the noises coming from his room, you found it more difficult to get to sleep.

 Jimin turned into a cute innocent boy. He placed his hand over his heart and gasped.

“Me?! No way. Also we were studying…”

You crossed your arms and gave him a look of “yeah right Jimin”. He immediately confessed.

“Yes, I’m inviting her but its not serious. But _____, you’re not so innocent either! What about that boy I found in our kitchen making coffee for you and him??”

It was your turn to be defensive. You shook your head and gave him a shove with your entire body. He hardly nudged.  You knew he was talking about your former lab partner, who you finally allowed to your pants after he wouldn’t stop bothering you.

“That’s not the same! That was one night, and you were supposed to be out that night!”

He hummed a reply. You both silently agreed that you both were incapable of having an actual relationship. Jimin pulled his watch out.

“Shit _____, we need to get back to the apartment, we’ll have to leave soon.”

“Relax Jimin, we have plenty of time to get ready.”

“Anytime today _____?”

You rolled your eyes at his comment and continued slipping on your high heels. The clock above reading 10:42. Both of you were late meeting up with your friends. Jimin had just texted them to start with you two. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror giving your hair a fix then went down to the kitchen where Jimin was.

Jimin turned to you hearing you enter. His mouth was open to say something sarcastic to you but stopped when he saw you. His eyes were scanning all over your figure. He was used to seeing you in hoodies and sweatpants, not in a dress as tight as this.

“What?”

You quizzed him, confused to why your friend was just staring at you. He finally closed his mouth and straightened himself up.

“You look pretty.”

That was all he said. You felt your cheeks turn rosy at his comment. You gave his outfit a scan as well. Black jeans with a ripped that highlighted his long legs and a simple but smart shirt with the top three buttons undone.

“Not so bad yourself Jimin.”

Your hands reached for the two shots Jimin poured and you handed on to him. You both raised your glasses to the ceiling.

“A toast to a great fucking night!”

Jimin said and smashed his glass with yours. Heads facing up, the strong vodka fell down into each other’s throats with a burn. It was also probably the last discernible memory you had that night.

Fast forward to 1am, your ears have stopped hurting from the loud bass coming from the sound system in this club. You were into your fourth shot and god knows how much other drinks you’ve had. The neon lights had you feeling some kind of way and all you wanted to do was dance. You and your female friend were dancing to some throwback 90’s song. A mixture of you two laughing and singing along made you feel euphoric.  When the song drew to a close, your friend leaned in and said she was going to get a drink. You booed her, wanting to stay and dance some more. She warned you not to leave where you were standing and she’ll be right back. Unfortunately, she had no idea how actually drunk you were. As soon as she turned away and the next song began, you found yourself in the middle of a group of sweaty strangers.

You continued dancing by yourself. Soon you felt rough hands on your hips. You turned your head to be faced with a random boy. He was handsome you thought or maybe you were just drunk. You leaned back into his chest. As you reached up to touch his neck, his body was suddenly gone near you. Glancing behind you, Jimin was jostling the man away. You didn’t even get to process what was happening when Jimin stomped towards you. He gripped your waist tightly and buried his head into your neck.

“Dance with me _____.”

His breath was laced with alcohol. He guided your body as you swayed your hips into him. You could hear his soft groan vibrate on your neck. You wrapped your arm around his neck, tracing your fingers on his skin. Leaning back into him, you pushed your ass into his crotch. His lips copied your neck with a sigh, taking in your scent.

“Just like that baby.”

Suddenly he spun you around to face him. With his hands cupped around your jaw, he pulled your lips into his. Like chocolate, you and he melted into each other. Your hands gripped his t-shirt in an attempt to pull him in closer. He bit your bottom lip and returned his pump lips back to your mouth. Jimin deepened the kissed, overlapping his tongue on your lips. You granted him entrance and he slithered in his tongue.  He made you feel so good. It was overwhelming.

You pulled apart from the kiss. Jimin leaned his forehead onto yours. His lips were stained with your lipstick. He smirked at you with his lustful eyes. As you stared back at him, a sudden fear of unknown dread-filled your body. You took note of the way he was cupping your face. How you possibly just ruined your friendship with him.

As an automatic reaction, you were taking steps back without even noticing. Jimin stared at you like an alien.

“_____?”

He yelled at you, taking a step towards.  An impulse of distress caused you to turn around and you rushed upstairs. Your head was spinning with thoughts that your drunken brain couldn’t handle.  You felt guilt-ridden and sick.  The mix of the two feelings had your stomach-churning. Scanning your area, your eyes landed on the bathroom. Dashing over to it, you swung the door open. As you were ready to hurl yourself over the toilet seat, you came to the realisation that you were not alone in the bathroom.

Your blurry vision could make out two bodies pushed up against the wall. One was on the sink and their legs were wrapped around the other. The music was muted in the room so the sound of lips kissing echoed through the small bathroom. It was abruptly stopped as the two faces were now twisted towards you. Realising you were being a cockblocker, you threw your head down to the ground.

“Sorry, keep kissing.”

You slurred. You grabbed the door handle and pulled the push door. After your drunk-ass finally figured out the door was pushed, a voice spoke up that rebounded in the room.

“_________?”

“Jungkook?”

Next Chapter 

[pugh-bug]

Scott Lang x reader

Chapter 2

I apologise this is a long chapter but domesticated Avengers makes me happy. If you’re reading this it’s meant to be a slow burnnn so enjoy the burning, the Tony x reader friendship and Thor being domesticated. If you like unsmashed lamps this chapter may be hard for you to read I’m sorry.

Warnings: none. unless you count archers breaking things.

You opened your weary eyes but everything was still black. Something warm was brushing against your face. You were warm... and in bed. ‘Please tell me I’m in my own bed.’ Without moving your splitting head you had no idea who could hear you until the unmistakable voice of Thor replied ‘It’s your own.’ He sounded amused. Somehow you felt well rested and more tired than you’d felt since Scott kept you up all night showing you card tricks, all at the same time. Although out of all the occupants in Stark Tower, Parker tired you out the most. The child. He was lucky you liked him.

Groaning you rolled over and face dived into your pillow clenching your eyes closed. Of course it was your bed. No one else’s smelt this good. Unless you’d gone nose blind as that weird advert went. ‘What day is it?’ You felt ridiculous asking but wasn’t this how you were supposed to behave? Youth? because Peter was in the minority being so morally well adjusted.

‘Sunday.’ That voice woke you up. ‘Y/N we can leave if you really want to sleep for another hundred years,’ you finally opened your eyes to see a much happier Scott smiling at you. Next to him was a smiling Thor glancing outside at the blue sky like a bird and a Peter looking apprehensive. You weren’t sure what as wrong with him he didn’t have the worst hangover of all time.

‘Come on get up,’ Scott spoke to you like you were five which just made you scowl... like a five year old. Looking mockingly scared Scott raised his hands up in ‘defeat’. ‘Okay don’t get up. I’ll just eat all the delicious pancakes Thor made myself.’

Thor snapped out of his bird watching trance to grunt before nodding ‘Yes. I’m afraid they are delicious.’ What did you do to deserve such generosity? And how could you resist pancakes? Oh but bed or pancakes?

‘These are amazing!’ You exclaimed (you had chosen pancakes). Thor grinned at your compliment as you ate like a rabid dog. Scott closed all the kitchen cupboards - he was such a dad sometimes - before leaning on the worktop facing you. ‘I’m glad you like them ,’ Thor remarked before finishing his breakfast and going to presumably get a shower leaving you with your favourite ant and third wheeling spider.

‘S- so I have an assignment due next month which is gonna take forever but Mr Stark-‘ as Peter launched himself into a long winded story about homework Scott caught your eye and smirked. You felt as if you were speaking in code. He watched you listen to your friends tangled tale with as much enthusiasm as you could muster despite your hangover. It seemed to amuse him.

‘And I was thinking who do I know that knows a lot about this sort of stuff? Y/N but I didn’t know how to ask y-‘

Scott gave you his best: can-you-believe-this-shit look and chuckled quietly keeping his eyes on yours. You smiled back but tried not to laugh - not wanting to upset Peter. Scott wasn’t as used to him as you were. He must have felt ancient beside someone as young and sprightly as the kid because even you felt middle aged in comparison. Luckily Peter had the attention span of a little child so before Scott could even try and think about asking him to leave he was off. Where? Chasing butterflies and doing something you did not need to know about.

You swallowed your words before they came out once Peter had left you and Scott alone. He was washing up and you weren’t even bothering to offer to do it instead. The hangover brain was strong and you didn’t even remember drinking never mind being pissed. Just as you watched him wash the final plate Scott turned to look at you. ‘You don’t even remember what you did last night do you?’

Oh fuck. Shit. What did you do? What could you have done? How could Scott tell you didn’t know? Was he turning into a psychic because of the quantum realm? It wouldn’t surprise you. Less and less shit did since moving to Stark Tower.

‘No. How can you tell? Have you absorbed Charles Xavier’s powers?’ Thank god the panic didn’t show in your voice for a change because otherwise all those oscar worthy performances you gave in the shower would have been a waste of time. Scott’s face pulled into a smug smile as he sat down at the breakfast table you hadn’t left.

‘Oh poor Y/N,’ he pulled a mocking sad face and used his creepy high pitched voice you hated. ‘Is someone confused?’ He was revelling in having the upper hand for a change.

‘Funny. You’re funny. Now tell me what I did or didn’t do last night before I throw this plate at you.’ You both knew you would never throw a plate at his cute face. It wouldn’t be worth the lecture of Steve on manners either. Steve. What could he possibly teach you about manners - they were fucking impeccable?

‘That’s not asking nicely.’

Your stomach contracted slightly as you could almost visualise the two pathways the conversation could lead to. His eyes were burning into yours with a new intensity you’d never seen in Scott before. It made your mouth dry and you cheeks burn up slightly. You felt like you’d been shoved into an oven without warning.

‘Fine,’ he refused to break eye contact with you and it was infuriating in a way. You willed him to stop as if he could in fact mind read. ‘Please just tell me what happened.’ Normally you only took this tone with Tony, you couldn’t help but wonder if in a weird way it meant you were getting closer to Scott. Atleast more comfortable. That would help you make less of a spectacle of yourself on a daily basis (not that that wasn’t fun but- ).

He told you that it wasn’t as bad as everyone was making out but you had decided to play beer pong with Thor and lost. Badly. You’d apparently cried when Clint said he didn’t want to play just dance and stormed off like a grumpy toddler who couldn’t get her own way.

‘Jeez,’

‘I know. You’re classy.’

‘I can be classy!’

Scott snorted at your outrage, downing the last of his orange juice while you sat in mock disbelief. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’ Okay noted. Scott didn’t think ripped fishnets were classy. Interesting. His ex wife was classy - ah let’s not open that door.

‘I didn’t throw up did I?’ You finally asked the burning question every hungover Gen Z member had to ask. He ran his hands through his dark hair but you refused to let your eyes linger for too long. ‘No you didn’t.’ This was followed by a cat like stretch he seemed to revel in performing. You heard the bones in his wrists crack and narrowed your eyes at him because you couldn’t think of what else to say. He didn’t seem interested in speaking either, he was blank. Fuck it. You knew when to let a conversation end.

‘I’m gonna shower.’ and as you left Scott alone in the kitchen to find the bathroom empty you smiled: if Scott had been 18 he would have said ‘without me?’ and thank god he wasn’t. You liked your older men immature in some ways (the fun ways) but pick me boys you could not abide. Scott was certainly not one.

After you’d sucked any joy out of showering dry by obsessing over how sad Scott may or may not be about his ex wife (or if he wanted advice) you dried yourself. You were 18 what advice could you have for the man? Middle aged men did seem to come to you for advice despite your own doubts and lack of experience. When Steve had been left out of a mission because of another fight with Bucky you practically became his mother consoling the drama queen. Tony called it ‘hilarious’ but you had a different word for the experience. That being said you wouldn’t mind listening to all of Scott’s problems on a loop on a fucking tape but bias is bias.

The walk to Tony’s obnoxiously large living room was short from the bathroom. The sound of the cold tile against your bare feet was all you could hear for a moment before the sound of-

‘Shit. Shit!’

Clint.

You entered the crime scene cold and confused, your wet hair was dripping cold down your back making you shiver. Stood in front of the tv flaming at the nostrils was a pissed off yet guilt ridden Clint Barton looking down at his handiwork. Lay on the floor was the lamp you’d bought Tony for his birthday. Smashed.

Nat was scowling at the archer lecturing him on how to carry things like a cross teacher. Wanda, Vision, Bucky and Steve were less concerned. You weren’t concerned at all it was a fucking £10 lamp. ‘Nat it’s fine it was an accident it’s just a lamp.’ You interrupted her scolding which gained you a sympathetic smile from Clint. His eyes said thank you. Nat did not seem convinced but swallowed her pride and calmed down anyway.

You scanned the room until your eyes met Scott, which you knew you needed to stop doing so often. There they were. Pointing back at you : a mixture of humour and the sadness you couldn’t stop noticing even if no one else did. You caved first and smiled at him. It was impossible not to.

‘Are we forgetting he’s a millionaire?’ Scott laughed at his own comment.

‘Excuse me, billionaire.’ Tony revelled in correcting people on how much money he had. How many cars he owned was a fun one too or how many times he’d redesigned everything in the house because he was ‘bored.’ Nat rolled her eyes in your direction which you quickly returned.

‘Really? Billionaire?’ Scott couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His voice was so high and his eyes were so wide you just grinned at his adorable face. Bless him. He knew nothing about Tony’s empire. What no one wanted was Scott’s lack of knowledge to end in a long speech from the billionaire about his life story. No one would stay for that.

‘I bought you churros. You said I had to pay for everyone’s.’ Scott sounded as if he could cry, so naturally everyone laughed. Even Vision. You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him laugh before, it was so sweet. ‘Well I’m sure you’ll survive.’ Tony’s signature eyebrow raise was code for I’m-better-than-you.

Once everyone got up to get drinks and choose a film Scott snaked his arm onto your shoulder startling you. Everyone was on the other side of the room and no one was looking. There was a chance Tony was to see if you made a fool of yourself but you could live with that. ‘You jump so easily,’ he was not wrong. Everything startled you. ‘Did you know how much money Tony made?’

His hand left your shoulder, making you fight the urge to sigh in disappointment from the lack of touch. He sounded genuinely curious. Why he was fixating on Tony’s money you did not know. He didn’t steal anymore.

‘Everyone does. Why are you so interested? Are you planning a heist?’

Scott’s face changed. He was stood so close to you if either one of you moved there’d be no space to breathe. You wondered if he would ever fucking notice your ‘little crush’ on him or if it would continue like this forever. Would that be so bad? No. It would make more sense.

‘If I was you could be my accomplice.’ He sounded so confident. Of course it was a joke but still .. you? A criminal?

‘Hmm ... I think Nat would be a better choice.’ He smiled down at you as his hand found its way back to your shoulder. His touch, even in a non sexual way, made you feel like putty.

‘Sure she can come too. You’d be better company though, she’s a bit scary.’ You both laughed and then he was back to the sofa with the others. It took you a moment of standing around like an idiot taking Scott’s words in before you could join them.

Better company. Better company. Better company that a Russian assassin? Did that really mean much?

Taglist: @supraveng

[parkjess]

Hey, I hope you are doing well. Can I request a astro reaction to their s/o having to take meditation for anxiety and depression, please? Okay, bye bye ヾ(￣▽￣). Please be safe! ☆ﾟ°˖* ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Thank you for caring and requesting!🥰 stay safe everyone☺️

Warning: if you’re sensitive about depression and anxiety, please skip this.

Myungjun:

Myungjun woke up next to you, shaken off his dream due to the bed moving slightly because you were stretching your arms to get your medication from the night stand, having difficulty with getting that, you let out a sigh.

“Baby, hey, is everything alright? What are you doing?” Your boyfriend taps on your shoulder to get your attention, asking with his sleepy voice. -“I’m trying to get... this.” Finally you grabbed the little medication box, he furrowed his brows and lightly rubs his eyes to open them fully. “What is that baby?” He takes the box once you swallow the pill, reading the possible reasons for taking these. “Y/n...” by now he’s already sitting straight on the bed near you, “why didn’t you tell me?” He pats your hair. -“I don’t want to be a burden to you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but it’s really not such a big deal.”

“What are you talking about? You only give me happiness and peace, come on, let’s go.” He says and kisses your forehead, getting out of bed and you do so too without even asking where.

He took you to a picnic day, suddenly left and took you home because he had something at work. “I’ll be back soon, okay baby?” He cups your face and kisses your forehead.

When he came back you hear some unfamiliar breathing, sounds like, a dog?

“Baby?” Myungjun calls, taking his shoes off by the door, entering the living room you share. You were sitting on the big comfy couch, watching Netflix with some chips and beverage of your liking.

-“Hey... how was work... toda- Myungjun what is that?” You chuckle when you meet the little poodle (I’m actually not sure if that’s a poodle in the pic lmao), the puppy had a cute, soft look in his eyes, looking at you as if he wanted you to take him. “This is a little gift from me to you, I know you really like dogs, and I don’t want you to feel lonely when I’m not home.” You now realize he wasn’t at work today but left you to get you a dog.

-“Myungjun... this is so adorable, I love you so much.” You say and lean in to kiss your boyfriend’s lips, talking the dog in your arms afterwards. He did it for you.

Jinwoo:

“Baby what is that?” Jinwoo comes closer to your shared bedroom, you were working on some project on your laptop, sitting near the desk, with earphones plugged in both your ears.

-“Jin... Jinwoo where did you find this?” You look up at him, not hearing what he asked you beforehand Because of the loud music in your ears. “I asked what this is...” his voice lowered, although you thought he was upset at you because you didn’t tell him you take medication for a while now, but all he was doing is worrying about you.

-“I... I am...” you tried to explain but the words didnt come out well. “Y/n~~ you know I get more worried when you don’t share with me.” He was slightly annoyed by now, since he loves you so much and doesn’t want you to go through this situation alone. “Can you promise me you won’t hide anything else from me anymore?” He bends down and whispers, kisses your forehead right after.

Dongmin:

“Lee Dongmin! Can you please tell me where we are going?” You yell at your boyfriend who was walking before you with his big steps that you couldn’t catch up with.

-“Were here.” He stops suddenly, not even breathing heavily as you do. “What the-“ you weren’t able to say as you panted due to your fast walking. “Okay... what are we doing here?” Dongmin knew you best, he didn’t even have to see your medication to know you’re taking them, or your current condition. The local park in your neighborhood was your favorite, the view of children laugh together, parents sitting on bench watching their mini versions, sun sets slowly, all of these was making you stay at peace. And ofcourse your boyfriend was the only one who knew all of those little details about you, like nobody else did.

“Why?” You ask, crossing your arms against your chest. -“Because you love being here, with me.” He says with a smirk spread on his face. “I sure love it, but Dongmin... why all of the sudden?” Simply asking, he takes a step closer to you, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

-“I want you to appreciate everything you have, and always remember these moments with me, and with all the people you love who love you even more back.” While he was talking, you realized what he meant, without him mentioning the medication, or even the word that described your inner pain. Somehow, he managed to heal it for a bit, like a 1000 pieces puzzle, he was the 100 first pieces.

Dongmin wrapped his arms around your shoulders and brought you closer to his chest, -“You gave me forever, you can’t escape it,” he chuckles, all you could hear at this moment was his heartbeat and his calming voice.

Moonbin:

It was the usual weekly day Bin and you always go on a date. This time he took you for a weekend out of town, spending time together once a week when the two of you are busy the rest of the time is the best thing and you only could adore him for planning this.

Moonbin suddenly stopped, tired of walking for an hour, but having great time talking with you about life and everything that was going on lately. You sat on the cool grass, beautiful, pink flowers growing near, suddenly tears started to stream down your cheeks. “Baby?” Bin softly asks, moving the piece of hair that hid your face. “Oh my- baby, what’s wrong?” The tone of his voice became more nervous, you couldn’t answer but just nod your head. “Look at me, dear, lift your head baby...” he placed his finger beneath your chin, managing to lift it so you could look at him.

It never happened with him before, this anxiety attacks, and you couldn’t even explain it to him. But you wanted him to know what you’re going through so badly, so you pulled your backpack closer, taking the medication out. “Baby...” he lowers his voice, taking the medicine in one hand while the other is holding yours. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-“. you cut him off by saying, -“No, don’t be sorry. Please, just hug me.” You say while sobbing, as he immediately obeys and hugs you tightly. “Everything will be okay, believe me, we will go through this together.” He whispers in your ear while hugging, as you stayed like this until the sun set.

Minhyuk:

Minhyuk was the sweetest kind of person around you, he liked to take you with him everytime he had something exciting to do other than work. Your boyfriend was aware of your anxieties thanks to Moonbin who told him because he was worried. At first, Minhyuk wanted to call you and tell you he knows, but he wasn’t sure if he should or not, so he waited for the right time to talk about it with you.

-“Y/n, wanna go down town?” Minhyuk asked when you just got out of shower. “Uhm... sure...” there was something different in his question, a sudden urge to go somewhere instead of just chill at home. And the fact that he was already dressed, and not in the usual sweats he wears on days off.

A night out with Minhyuk can’t be bad, it can only help you get the bad thoughts out of your mind. When you arrived, Minhyuk was trying to distract you from everything that might be too much for you to handle.

“Baby! Strawberries!” Minhyuk tapped your should several times, calling out excitingly since your favorite snack was strawberry drizzled with sweet syrup on top. You laugh at your boyfriend when he grabbed the stick with coated strawberries, posing for a picture.

-“Minhyuk... why all of the sudden?” You ask him when he takes your hand in his, walking slowly in the crowded space. “Ah... I missed being with you like this I guess...” he replies with his husky voice. -“come on, we went for a walk like two days ago, for 3 hours!” You chuckle at the end. -“Think of a better excuse.” You say and hand him your phone, this time you posed for a pic. “I know you have anxiety attacks,” he wasn’t able to keep it a secret from you anymore, finally saying it out loud when the place is getting less crowded. -“I know you do, Minhyuk. Just wanted you to finally say it yourself, I saw you looking in my bag this morning when you found the medicine.”

“The reason I didn’t say it earlier, is that I care for you, a lot. I don’t want you to feel depressed or lonely ever, and I’m here to make you feel better, I love you y/n.” It felt like he was confessing his love again to you, his sweet words made you fall for him like you did for the first time.

Sanha:

Sanha noticed you’re feeling different lately, and he didn’t want to ask you what happened since he knew you wouldn’t tell him because you don’t want him to worry about your condition. But he once saw the medication box you threw into the bedroom’s trash bin, instead to the bigger one, and he searched for it on the internet.

Most of the time when you’re with him, you feel much better, but he knows how depressed you are when he’s not around.

You woke up, he’s missing again, but his covers weren’t folded which means he’s at home today. He usually folds his covers when he leaves to work at home and leaves a note to you, and this morning, no folded blanket, no notes.

“Sanha?” You call out his name, looking for your y’all boyfriend around the big house. There’s a scent of something good cooking. Vanilla.

-“Y/n, you woke up!” Sanha drop the tongs on the counter and run to hug you, being careful not to touch you with the oily plastic gloves.

“Are these- churros?” You ask when you see the heart shaped dough inside the boiling oil. Your boyfriend hums and nods his head as a response, -“I planned to make you a breakfast in bed, but since you’re here now, you should taste one.” He leads you to the kitchen counter, it was a complete mess, but it somehow warmed your heart to see the mess he did, just because it was with good intentions. “What is it all for, Sanha?” You ask him while taking a bite from the heart shaped-chocolate drizzled churro, it was as soft as a cloud, a bit sweet.

-“I know you love this, and I know you’re taking medication baby. You should have told me, I want to take care of you when I’m able to.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know next time, but can we eat now?” You stick your thumb nail between your teeth and bring the other half of the heart churro closer to his lips.

His words made your heart calmer, he was really the cure to your current condition.

[marvelous-writer]

Responsible for Making Sure You’re Responsible

Summary: Peter knows he’s hurt badly enough that he can’t just slap a bunch of band-aids on his injuries, and especially the giant, still-oozing puncture wounds on his back and along his shoulders from the tips of Toomes’ wings. But it’s not like he can just stumble into an emergency room and ask to get stitched up. So where to go instead?

May would have a heart attack if she saw him right now, not to mention immediately figure out his secret. Ned would also definitely freak out, probably waking his parents in the process. Mr. Stark was an option, but Peter wasn’t about to bother him, not after how the man had made it crystal clear that he didn’t want anything to do with Peter ever again.

So no hospital, no May, no Ned, and no Mr. Stark just left… Happy. 

Or: following his final fight with the Vulture, Peter is left grievously injured and in need of some serious help. Cue Happy to the rescue.

Word count: 6,880

A/N: Me and @blondsak‘s first collab!!!

Link to read on AO3

Peter doesn’t know how he made it from the Coney Island Cyclone all the way to Avengers Tower. To be honest, the entire journey was a bit of a blur as his steadily bleeding injuries throbbed painfully in protest from all the web-slinging. 

When his feet hit the landing pad of the Tower, Peter distantly wonders why he had decided to come here, of all places. Even through his foggy brain, he knows he’s hurt badly enough that he couldn’t just slap a band-aid on the many deep cuts, burns and bruises littering his whole body, especially the giant puncture wounds on his back and along his shoulders from the tips of Toomes’ wings. But then again, it’s not like he could just stumble into an emergency room and ask to get stitched up. At least, not wearing his original Spider-Man costume, which - though basically rags now - was still far too easily identifiable beneath all the stains and grime. 

As for going home, that was definitely ruled out—May would have a heart attack if she saw him right now. Peter could maybe have chanced going to Ned’s, but Ned would have almost definitely freaked out at the sight of him, which would have led to his parents waking up and Peter losing any hope of his secret - not that it was still much of one anymore, but still, he had to try, didn’t he? - staying under wraps. So Ned’s place was out, too. Mr. Stark was another option, but Peter wasn’t about to bother him, not after how the man had made it crystal clear in the form of a forced walk of shame from Brooklyn to Queens - in Hello Kitty pajama pants, no less - that he didn’t want anything to do with Peter ever again. 

So no hospital, no May, no Ned, and no Mr. Stark just left… Happy. 

It’s definitely not ideal, but the fact remains that Happy’s his best bet right now, and Peter, well—Peter is pretty desperate. And the only place he knows Happy could be was back at the Tower, from where he assumes the man had been overseeing the move before the plane took off and Peter’s night went from  really, really bad to totally screwed.

With a deep, weary sigh Peter limps towards the glass doors, one hand pressed firmly against a shoulder in a futile effort to staunch the worst of the bleeding, surprised to find that the door is unlocked as he steps inside. He’s too out of it to notice that the once well-furnished living room is now completely empty. He passes by the kitchen, looking around at the vacant space. He doesn’t exactly know where he’s going to be honest. There’s a small tingling at the back of his head, the only warning he gets before an unfamiliar face comes around the corner from the hallway, a small squeak of surprise coming from the man - a security guard, by the looks of his uniform - at the sight of him. 

“Don’t come any closer! I’ll—I’ll shoot!” the guard cries out, though it comes out shaky, like he’s scared or maybe just inexperienced. All the same Peter doesn’t hesitate to put up his throbbing arms in temporary submission, biting back a groan from the pain. The shaking flashlight suddenly stills on Peter’s chest, the guard taking in the tattered remains of Peter’s homemade suit. His going wide as he exclaims, “Wait—you’re Spider-Man! What are you doing here?” Then, all shakiness gone and replaced with excitement, “Are you here on Avengers business?” 

“No, it’s n-nothing like that,” Peter weakly replies. “I actually need to talk to–”

“I heard that you were, like, an honorary Avenger now,” the guard interrupts, seemingly not noticing Peter’s injured state. “Is that true? I mean, I saw that on The Bugle’s Twitter page but I wasn’t sure if it was true. But I guess you did  fight with Iron Man against the Rogue Avengers, which was totally awesome by the way! That basically means you are then, right?”

Peter’s head is spinning from all of the questions, worsening his pounding headache. He closes his eyes beneath what’s left of his mask, gritting his teeth. 

The guard must take his silence as affirmation, continuing, “I knew it! My buddy Marv keeps saying there’s no way they’d add a low-level vigilante from Queens to their roster, but then he’s always been more of a Cap guy and anyway, he’s from Brooklyn so what does he–”

“S-sorry, but—where’s Happy Hogan?” Peter interrupts with as much force as he can. He’s starting to feel really lightheaded, and he can’t afford to let himself pass out in front of an overexcited Spider-Man fan, and especially one who was obsessed enough to believe any Spider-Man news that came from The Bugle—a news site that Peter knows for a  fact  offers a substantial reward for any proof of Spider-Man’s identity. “L-look, I need to speak to Happy right now. It’s a-an emergency.”

“Uh, okay, sure,” the guard replies after a moment, looking slightly put out even as he pulls out his cell phone and starts swiping through it, putting it up to his ear as he continues to eye Peter curiously. Normally Peter would have no issue hearing the ringing and Happy picking up, but he’s just so tired. Instead finds himself zoning out even as the guard starts rambling to the other person about Spider-Man showing up, until–

Peter startles when someone pokes him in the arm, looking up to see the guard is now standing right in front of him, holding out his phone. “He says he wants to talk to you.”

Trying to blink the exhaustion out of his eyes, Peter nods and takes the device. “Hey, Happy.”

“Kid,” Happy replies with a sigh, the relief in his tone something Peter’s never heard from him before. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re okay.”

“Me too,” Peter agrees without thinking, then blinking slowly again, “but uh, about that–”

“Look, this line isn’t exactly secure,” Happy interrupts, and now Peter hears voices shouting in the background, along with what sounds like large trucks rumbling, “and neither is the tower anymore, for that matter. How about you head to my place? We’re just about finished getting the tech loaded and off the beach.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Peter replies numbly, the fog in his brain clearing just enough for him to memorize Happy’s address—relieved when he realizes it’s still in Manhattan, and in the Upper East Side at that. Happy doesn’t really come across as a glitzy kind of guy, but Peter supposes it makes sense that Mr. Stark would pay him very well, considering his job title and all.

“...still there, kid? You get that?”

“Wha’?” Peter asks dumbly, pulled out of a second daze in as many minutes. Man, he really needs to focus if he wants to make it to Happy’s in one piece. “Oh y-yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you there, Happy.”

There’s a pause then, as if Happy is mulling something over. But whatever it is he must let it go, saying instead, “I’ll see you there. And no dawdling at the churro stand, you hear me?” 

The line clicks before Peter can reply. Wearily he drops the phone from his ear, passing it back to the guard. “Thanks.”

Not wanting to invite further conversation, he immediately starts limping back toward the landing pad—only to come to a halt when the guard calls after him.

With a sigh Peter turns around, “Yeah?”

But where he expected the guard to bombard him with more questions, or maybe ask him for an autograph, the man looks only worried now. “Just wanted to check, uh—you sure you’re gonna be okay? ‘Cause to be honest, you don’t look too good.”

Peter smiles behind the torn mask, feeling a tiny bit of warmth spark in his chest at the man’s concern. It’s almost enough to overtake the cold that’s already seeped into him—Peter suppressing a shudder as the two war for dominance.

“Thanks, b-but, I’ll be okay.” 

“If you say so,” the guard says after a few moments, clearly not buying it. But he doesn’t say anything else and after a pause Peter turns away again, stumbling over to the doors and back outside. The chill of the night air seems to sink right into his bones, and this time Peter can’t stop the whole-body shiver that wracks him.

“Okay, you j-just gotta make it to Happy’s and then he’ll s-stitch you up and you’ll be f-fine,” he says to himself—taking a deep breath as he tries to shore up enough strength for the trip. “C’mon Spider-Man. Just this one l-last thing and then you can rest.”

With those words of self-encouragement Peter sends a web out and jumps over the edge, falling and falling only to shoot out another web and clumsily catch himself—ignoring the deep stabbing pain as his bodyweight pulls on the injured shoulder, feeling another burst of warmth flow down his back. 

Gritting his teeth, Peter takes aim for the Upper East Side, willing away the tendrils of darkness that keep pulling at his mind as he flies through the air, focusing on nothing else but getting to Happy’s place and continuing to talk to himself just to stay awake. 

“You got th-this, Spider-Man. Just get to Happy’s and th-then you can s-sleep,” he whispers just as Happy’s building comes into view. 

With no small amount of giddy relief he lands on the small balcony and wrenches open the sliding glass door. 

“S-s-see Happy? No d-dawdling,” he announces with a lazy smile, only to belatedly realize the place is still dark. Distantly his mind registers that he must have beat Happy here.

For a few moments Peter sways, before he hears a dripping sound. 

“Wha’s l-leakin’?” he asks the empty room. He glances down when he hears yet another drip, blinking dumbly when he sees it’s coming from him. 

His blood, landing onto what has to be super-expensive carpet. Shit! 

“Ohhh no,” Peter whispers, looking around in a panicked daze. Everything is starting to go blurry now and no—he can’t pass out here! Happy already barely tolerates him… what will he say if he comes back to find Peter ruined his floor?

“Think, Peter, think,”  he says to himself, before stumbling through the apartment toward the hallway—cursing when he trips over the edge of the coffee table, knocking over a plant on his way down. For a second he just breathes as he lies on the floor, eyes closing as he nearly gives in to the exhaustion… only to grit his teeth and stumble back onto his feet.

He leans heavily against the hallway wall for support as he staggers toward the bathroom. 

“M-made it,” he whispers as he crosses the threshold. He clutches at whatever is within reach as he hauls himself across the tiled floor, spots gathering in his vision. But by some miracle he eventually manages to collapse over the edge of the tub, curling up against the far corner of the porcelain. 

With a sigh of relief Peter finally allows his eyes to close and stay closed, telling himself that he’s safe now. After all, Happy is on his way, and he’ll handle everything for Peter, just like he does for Mr. Stark, right?

Right,  Peter thinks. 

It’s the last thought he has for a while.

_______________________________________________________________

“Come on! It’s a frickin’ yield sign!” Happy yells as he blares his horn at the car in front of him. He’s been stuck at this intersection for over seven minutes now, chipping away at what little patience he has left now that he’s back in Manhattan, yet still too far from Peter.

Because frankly, it’s a miracle the kid is even alive after a crash like that. The minutes after he’d first seen the scrawled note - during which he’d frantically searched the wreckage for a matching teenaged vigilante to go with the copious bloodstains strewn about the sand - will forever haunt Happy, especially knowing that Peter had been on the downed plane.

And while at first he’d been relieved to hear that Spider-Man was at the tower and looking for him, when he’d heard how out of it the kid sounded on the phone… well, let’s just say it had reminded him far too much of a different reckless superhero he knew, albeit back in the man’s less sober days. 

But where back then he’d been saving Tony from choking on his own vomit, tonight had raised red flags in Happy’s mind for other reasons. Because Peter wasn’t drunk or high, no—he was injured, badly enough that he was spacing out and slurring his words.

Happy can only hope it’s just a minor concussion, and not something worse. Because if anything happened to that kid, he would never forgive himself for it, and not only because Tony would have his head. Peter’s aunt was at home waiting for him, probably wondering where the hell he is at twelve-thirty in the morning on a Saturday night. 

He recalls then what he’d told the kid not a week earlier, when Peter had called while he’d been busy and distracted preparing for Moving Day: "Stay away from anything dangerous. I'm responsible for making sure you're responsible, okay?" 

Happy chews on the inside of his cheek, feeling another cry of worry-induced—and if he’s honest, guilt-induced—road rage rise up in his throat, only to force himself to swallow it back down. 

He’s not going to let himself lose it, not yet. Because Peter has to be okay. He has to be, because Happy doesn’t know how he’ll live with himself if he isn’t. 

It takes him twenty minutes before he arrives at his apartment building, not stopping to talk to his doorman as he quickly gets into the elevator. 

“Come on, come on…” Happy mumbles to himself as he impatiently punches at his floor’s button as the polished elevator doors slide shut in front of him. 

He all but runs out when the doors slide open on his floor—only to nearly crash into his next door neighbor Ms. Devine and her yappy shih-tzu, Mr. Fluffers.

“Sorry, Ellie,” Happy hastily apologizes, then when Mr. Fluffers growls at him, adds in a faux-casual voice, “Taking the dog for a late night walk?”

“Fluffy here runs on his own schedule,” the older woman responds kindly enough, only to narrow her eyes as if sniffing out a chance for gossip fodder. “And what has you hurrying home in such a rush after midnight?”

Making sure Spider-Man isn’t bleeding to death in my apartment. “Just checking that I didn’t leave my oven on.”

Ms. Devine continues to stare suspiciously for a few moments, before smiling tiredly and saying, “I’ve done that before.” 

“Haven’t we all,” Happy says with a polite smile as he walks around her, reaching in his pocket for his keys. “Have a good evening,” he adds rather dismissively, not looking back at what he is sure is a disapproving glare.

He waits until she turns the corner before racing down the rest of the hallway. Happy stops at his door, hands shaking as he fumbles to slide the key into the lock on the knob, scared of what he’ll find inside. He braces himself as he steps into the dark entryway, shutting the door behind him—careful to lock the deadbolt just in case Ms. Devine gets any ideas and decides to make an impromptu housecall. 

“Peter?” he calls out as he walks further in, feeling around the wall for the light switch, his hand meeting something wet. He finds the switch and the lights come on—only to gasp at the sight just mere feet away from his face. All along the light grey wall of his living room and turning down the hallway are long, broken, halting finger trails of red. With growing horror, Happy realizes it can only be one thing— blood.

Fear shoots through Happy as he turns away from the blood-smeared wall, finding a trail of red droplets along with a plant lying on its side on the floor—its dirt burrowing into the carpet and mixing with more blood stains, as though whoever knocked it over had landed in the mess and only barely managed to get back on their feet.

“Oh shit,” Happy breathes out as he follows the bloodied dirt trail, leading to the bathroom down the hall, finding the door open with the lights on. “Peter?” he frantically calls out.

Stepping a foot inside, it looks like something straight out of a horror movie. There’s smears of blood across the floor, as well as a handprint on the edge of the sink. Happy’s eyes scan over the scene before they settle on the blue and red— too much red —covered figure lying in the tub. 

“Oh my God,” Happy exclaims as he rushes forward and bends over the edge, hands hovering over Peter’s all-too-still form. Shit shit shit!!! 

“Kid? Peter?” Happy calls as he shakes the kid’s shoulder, gently at first and then more forcefully—closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in relief when the kid lets out a weak, pained groan.

“H’py? S’ you?” Peter mumbles, lifting his head, the goggles of his ridiculous homemade mask squinting in the lighting. 

“Yeah, it’s me,” Happy says with no small amount of relief. Placing his hands under the kid’s armpits, he helps Peter’s slumping form straighten a little bit, alarm growing when he spots a pool of blood beneath the kid’s form, standing out against the pristine white tub floor. Happy reaches up and carefully peels off the torn remnants of the mask, revealing Peter’s pale and dazed face. His curls are slightly damp and sticking to his sweaty forehead. Unsure what to ask first, Happy blurts out, “What are you doing in the bathtub?”

Peter blinks slowly. “May says tomato sauce is… is hard t’ get out…” 

Happy brows pull together in confusion. “Tomato sauce? Kid—what are you talking about? You’re bleeding.”

Peter nods slowly, his chin dropping to his chest as he blinks with half-lidded eyes. “S’ what I said…” he mumbles, his eyes closing further. 

“Hey, hey, hey—no falling asleep on me. I have to make sure you don’t have a concussion or anything,” Happy tells him sternly. 

“But m’ tired,” Peter mumbles, words slurring together slightly. 

“I know, and you can sleep soon. Let’s just get you out of the tub and cleaned up first, okay?” 

“M’kay,” Peter mumbles, blinking sluggishly. 

Happy helps him out of the tub, practically carrying him with how wobbly the kid’s legs are, and sits him down on the closed toilet seat. “Do you promise to stay upright if I let you go?”

Peter gives the tiniest of nods, before slowly slumping sideways until his head and the ball of his shoulder hit the tiled wall. Happy waits until he feels confident Peter is safely propped before nodding back, patting him gently on the arm and leaving the bathroom. He practically runs into the kitchen, grabbing two pills of prescription strength ibuprofen and filling a glass of water heading back the way he came. 

“Here kid, take these,” he says, depositing the pills in Peter’s open palm and then holding the glass for him after he puts them in his mouth, helping the kid take a sip to get them down, then a few long gulps to quench his thirst. Satisfied, Happy sets down the glass and moves to the cabinet under the sink, pulling out his heavy-duty first aid kit. 

For as much as he had ignored the kid the past few months—and he’d be beating himself up about that for a good long while after this, no doubt—Happy had taken one aspect of his reluctant side gig of Spider-Man’s Keeper very seriously from the get-go, and that was preparing for a night just like this. One where Peter would call because he was injured and needed help getting patched up, and Happy would grumble but give him his address and tell him to swing over. 

As such, he had promptly taken his SI company credit card details and ordered an expensive, industrial-sized first aid kit to keep at home. He had hoped he wouldn’t ever have to use it, of course. But for now, he just finds he’s glad he had the foresight to plan for such a scenario—knowing that if he hadn’t, they’d be in a lot more trouble right now than they already are. 

“M’ really sorry, H’ppy,” Peter whispers as he watches Happy unclasp the kit and start pulling out supplies, carefully laying them out on the bathroom counter. Happy glances over at him, relieved to see the kid seems more coherent now that he’s both hydrated and medicated. “I didn’t... didn’t know where to go, and m-May would freak out—” 

“Kid, it's okay. I’m glad you’re here and not bleeding out in some alley,” Happy interjects as he grabs some face cloths from the small bathroom linen closet. Finally, with everything set up on the counter within easy reach, Happy turns back to Peter.. “Let’s get you out of that hoodie so I can see how bad it is.” 

Getting the top part of the kid’s homemade costume off of him is a bit of a struggle, but Happy takes it slow as Peter struggles to lift his arms above his head, parts of the fabric sticking to his skin with dried blood. Once it’s off, Happy’s stomach drops at the sight of the dark bruises blooming across the kid’s torso, as well as the cuts and deep puncture marks on his left shoulder. Just from being at the crash sight he knew it had been one hell of a fight, but seeing the consequences in the form of the actual wounds littering Peter’s young body brings it home in an entirely different way. 

“Happy?” Peter’s voice takes him out of his thoughts, looking up to see a puzzled look on the kid’s overly pale face. 

“Yeah,” Happy nods, blinking a few times and forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He turns the faucet on, rolling up his shirt sleeves and washing his hands and forearms thoroughly before running the face cloths under warm water, wringing them out. “This might sting a little,” he warns as he kneels down in front of Peter, bringing a cloth down to one of the sluggishly bleeding cuts, earning a pained groan.

After a few minutes, Happy’s managed to clean and bandage the cuts. The two puncture wounds on the kid’s back were shallow enough that they only needed to be cleaned and bandaged, but the two on his chest just below his clavicles would both need a couple of stitches. The only problem being that said kid is half-asleep and fading fast right in front of him. 

“I’m gonna have to stitch these chest wounds up, alright? Think you can hold on for a few more minutes?” Happy asks. 

Peter blinks heavily a few times, clearly struggling to keep his eyes open. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Happy says as he reaches up for the first aid kit from the sink countertop, grabbing the suture packet inside. He wipes away the blood and disinfects the left-side wound first—being the more serious of the two—before taking out the pre-threaded needle from the package. “Ready?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Peter replies with a shaky nod, cautiously eyeing the needle before closing his eyes as if bracing himself.

“Try not to squirm too much, kid,” Happy says before getting to work. To his surprise, besides a slight flinch with every pull of the thread Peter remains obediently still, and Happy wonders if he’s had to do this himself a time or two—feeling a pang of distress at the idea of the kid alone in his bathroom with nothing but his aunt’s sewing kit for supplies, biting down on a washcloth to muffle any noises of pain as he shakingly attends to all manner of jagged cuts and wounds.

He wants to think he’s just being dramatic imagining such a thing, but still he refuses to ask Peter—deciding not knowing is better than having his suspicions confirmed. As it is, the kid stays completely stoic even as Happy finishes stitching up the left wound and moves on to the right, being sure to be careful and thorough but still going as fast he can—knowing the kid is operating on his last reserves. 

“Alright, your torso is good to go,” he says as he finishes pressing a bandage over the second line of stitches, looking back up at Peter. “I need you to tell me the truth now. Do you have any other wounds that need seeing to? Because this isn’t the time for modesty if you do.”

Peter blinks slowly, before looking down at his legs. Happy watches in patient silence as the kid seems to take stock of himself—taking the chance to give a cursory once-over of the kid’s sweats. He personally doesn’t see any stains that seem to indicate more than shallow cuts, and is relieved when the kid looks back up only to shake his head.

“I think ‘m okay now,” the kid says, voice weak but tone honest enough that Happy believes him. 

“Alright,” Happy says simply, getting back to his feet—ignoring the way his knees crack and protest at the movement. “I’ll be right back. Try to drink more water if you can. No passing out while I’m gone.”

Peter doesn’t reply but also doesn’t slump any further, which Happy takes as acknowledgement enough before he swiftly moves back into the hallway, heading for his bedroom. He grabs one of his old Stillman’s Gym t-shirts and a pair of drawstring sweatpants that no longer fit him before going back to the bathroom—heartened to see the kid is still awake, albeit barely.

“Lift your arms,” he orders, watching as Peter does so as much as his injuries will allow before pulling the t-shirt over the kid’s head and getting his arms through the holes. “Think you can stand up and get those ruined pants off?” he asks next, Peter taking a deep breath before nodding determinedly. Happy can’t help but hover as he watches the kid stumble to his feet, using one arm to lean against the wall for support as with the other he fumbles with his waistband. Happy pointedly doesn’t watch, just leans over and stares at where the torn sweats are pooled at the kid’s feet as holds open the clean pair of sweatpants so Peter can step into them, lifting them up to the kid’s knees and letting go as soon as Peter has a good enough grip to pull them up the rest of the way himself.

Leaning back up, Happy does one last visual assessment to make sure he’s not missing any hidden injuries. Satisfied, he carefully wraps an arm around the kid’s uninjured lower back, leading him out the bathroom door and down the hallway.

It’s a testament to how absolutely exhausted Peter must be that he doesn’t ask any questions as Happy guides him into the guest bedroom, pulling back the covers and helping him settle in beneath the sheets.

“Th’ks, Hap,” Peter mumbles, eyes closing. He’s out almost immediately. Happy shakes his head as he watches the kid for a few more moments, making sure that his breaths are deep and even and pressing two fingers to the kid’s neck, double-checking his pulse. But everything seems to be fine, and Happy lets out a long sigh, giving himself just a few seconds to collect his thoughts as he tiredly rubs a hand over his face.

Tonight was close—way, way too close. And besides that sociopath Toomes, the blame for it rests squarely on exactly two people’s shoulders—neither of which are Peter. 

With that thought in mind, Happy gives the kid one last look before walking to the door. He closes it most of the way but leaves it just open enough so that he can peek in later, making a mental note to leave Peter a glass of water and some more pills for when he wakes up. 

He silently makes his way back into the living room—pointedly not looking at the dried blood streaked across the walls and staining the carpet—and pulls out his cellphone. 

He’s not too surprised to see he has a dozen missed calls from just the last hour, most of them from his team with the exception of one from Pepper and two from Tony. He debates calling Pepper back first—having no doubt she needs some answers about exactly how everything went to shit tonight so they can start getting ahead of the morning news cycle—but in the end selects Tony’s name. He finds himself mildly stunned when the man picks up on the first ring.

“Hap?”

“It’s me, boss.”

“Good. Listen, Fri’s been keeping me updated on the crash and apparently there’s evidence the kid was there but ran off, is that–”

“Don’t worry, I found him,” Happy says with a sigh. “He’s injured but he’ll survive.”

“Thank god,” Tony replies, and the sheer relief in his voice is enough that Happy is left surprised by him for the second time in under a minute. Tony wasn’t usually so transparently sincere when it came to those outside his inner circle, but his genuine concern for Peter couldn’t be more clear. Happy can’t help but wonder when that development happened, though—on second thought—he supposes he’s not all that shocked it did. The kid can be annoyingly endearing.

“That said, you’re gonna have to call May Parker and come up with a whopper of a good story,” Happy continues, “‘cause I sure as hell ain’t taking him back to Queens yet, what with the shape he’s in.”

“Sure, sure, I’ll figure out something.” A pause. “How bad is it? And where are you two? Does he need–”

“He went to the tower looking for me, after. One of the guards rang, and I told him to meet me at my place,” Happy explains. “Kid took some serious licks during the fight with Toomes but I managed to get him patched up. He’s sleeping now.”

“Good, that’s good.”

And now they’re at the part of the conversation that Happy would rather not deal with. But it’s no longer something he can afford to avoid, not after stitching up the passed out child down the hall. Because Peter is just a child—only  fifteen, for Christ’s sake. Happy swipes a hand over his face again, shaking his head—hating that he ever let himself forget that.

“Listen, bo—Tony,” he begins, “you know I’m not one to actually speak my mind too often, but this was… Look. I don’t know much but I do know that kid needs his suit back, and probably a whole hell of a lot more from you—from  both of us—from now on. Because this? This was an absolute shitshow as it was, and if he hadn’t been okay, I don’t know if—”

“You don’t have to tell me how bad I fucked up, Hap, I'm well aware,” Tony interjects, but there’s no anger in his tone, just weariness. “And just so we’re clear, this isn’t gonna happen again—I’ve already got a plan. As soon as the kid’s healed up he’s coming out to the compound. I’ve decided to make him a full team member—got a new nanosuit ready for him and everything.”

Happy frowns. He’s not sure making Peter an Avenger is any better for his safety than taking his suit away was. But then, if there’s one thing Happy tries to keep out of, it’s all the team drama and politics that Tony seems to constantly be dealing with. As long as the kid’s identity is safe, he supposes it might not be a bad idea—if Peter even wants it, that is.

“Just make sure you let him know it’s a choice and not a demand, boss.”

“Of course I’ll make sure he knows that,” Tony says irritably, but Happy knows him well enough to recognize that he’s only annoyed because he understands  exactly why Happy felt the need to say as much. After all, taking the kid to Germany, making Happy his main contact, keeping him out of the loop with the Toomes investigation, taking away the suit… Tony hadn’t given Peter much choice in anything up to now. 

Happy thinks about pressing the point, but decides it’s not worth it. Him and Tony might not be on the exact same page but they’re at least reading the same book, and that’ll have to do for now. In any case, Happy doesn’t intend to go anywhere, so if the time comes to set Tony straight again where the kid is concerned—he’ll be there then, too.

“Alright, well, if that’s everything for now I think I’m gonna try to catch a few winks while the kid is out,” Happy says. “He should be recovered enough to go home tomorrow, so you can tell his aunt to expect him then.”

“Got it, and yeah, I should hit the hay soon too,” Tony replies with a long sigh.  “Get myself ready for the PR storm that’s no doubt already brewing.”

Silence again, and Happy thinks about apologizing for what happened—knowing all too well that if he’d just listened to Peter’s friend when the kid popped up on his screen, this whole mess might have been mostly prevented. But he clenches his jaw instead. He has things to apologize for, certainly—but it’s not Tony who needs to hear them.

“Tell Peter I'll be in touch soon,” Tony continues when Happy doesn't respond.  “And Hap? Thank you.”

Happy pauses, uncertain exactly which thing in particular he's being thanked for. It could be for looking after the kid, or for saying his piece just now, or simply general gratitude for all the years he's faithfully had Tony’s back. He supposes it doesn't matter which one it is though, not really. The reply is the same. 

“No problem, boss.”

With a small smile, he hangs up. 

In a span of an hour, Happy’s managed to scrub every last drop of blood from the floors, walls and the bathroom. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to wake up and see the mess in the morning. He also threw the tattered remains of his suit in the washing machine and then into the dryer—one less thing for Peter to worry about. 

Tossing the bloody used paper towels in a plastic bag, Happy disposes of it in the kitchen trash can, leaving it hopefully out of sight and out of mind. 

If only the sight of an unconscious and injured Peter in his bathtub could be as easily forgotten.

Casting his guilt aside for now, he grabs a glass from the cabinet and fills it up halfway, along with a few ibuprofen in a plastic Dixie cup. Turning off all the lights, Happy heads back down the hallway to the guest bedroom. 

He quietly pushes the door open with his foot and walks over to the bed, placing the water and pills on the nightstand within easy reach. Happy’s eyes fall on the kid, who is passed out, his mouth hanging open slightly. Another small smile finds its way to his face as an odd feeling spreads through his chest at the sight. Before he can talk himself out of it, Happy reaches a hand out, placing his palm on the kid’s forehead. He tells himself it's to check for signs of fever, but if it's also to physically reassure himself the kid is going to be okay, well, nobody’s gonna know anyway. 

“You’re gonna make my hair turn grey before its time, kid,” he whispers, receiving a soft sleep-sigh in return when he drops his hand. “And that’s only if Tony doesn’t manage it first.”

With a fond shake of his head, Happy makes his way out of the room, sparing one last glance at the sleeping teen before closing the door behind himself, leaving it open a crack once again. He heads to his room, choosing to leave his door open as well so he can hear should Peter wake up and need him. Going through his nightly bedtime ritual, his mind races with everything on his agenda for tomorrow—dealing with Damage Control’s rather displeased (to put it mildly) reaction to the plane crash and the almost-stolen tech, the inevitable PR nightmare, and finally, scheduling security detail for Pepper as she makes the rounds of meetings she'll undoubtedly have handling her end of all the former.

But right now, those things don’t seem as important. The important thing is the injured fifteen year old sleeping in his guest bedroom. The very one who he was supposed to be watching out for, and who he completely and utterly let down. 

As he lays down in bed and turns off his lamp, Happy vows to himself to be better from now on. Better at being there for Peter, even if that involves the kid talking his ears off with stories about school, his adventures patrolling Queens or all the annoying pop culture references he can't seem to stop making. From seeing everything Tony’s been through he knows the superhero business can be a lonely one, and Happy doesn’t want that for Peter. The kid should know he has more than just his teenage buddy in his corner. Which is why as soon as he can tomorrow, he is going to tell Peter exactly that. 

With that last thought in mind, Happy closes his eyes, soon drifting off. 

________________________________________________________________

It’s close to seven-thirty in the morning and Happy is sitting at the center island in the kitchen, all dressed and ready for the day, sipping from a mug of coffee. Despite it being Saturday, he still has a lot of work to do, starting with driving Peter home. 

He’d better get the kid up now so he has a chance to wake up a little and eat something before he goes home and faces the music with his aunt—Happy shooting off a quick text to Tony asking what cover story he gave Mrs. Parker so he can make sure their stories line up. And once he’s got that taken care of with the kid, Happy can apologize to him for the dismissiveness he’s shown over the past few months and explain how things are going to be different from now on. 

First though, he needs to get Peter’s suit out of the dryer. But when Happy goes to grab it, he finds the machine empty. Confused, he heads back down the hall, stopping outside the guest room and knocking softly. “Peter?” 

He’s met with silence on the other end. Happy’s brows pull together as worry pools in his gut. “Kid? I’m coming in.” 

But when he opens the door, he finds it to also be empty—the bed neatly made. Happy walks further into the room, seeing that the window is slightly ajar, the curtains gently blowing in the wind. 

“So much for that talk,” Happy mutters to himself with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. He can only hope the kid doesn't blow his cover with his aunt. Should Peter reveal everything, he has no doubt his phone—being the only connection the kid has at the moment to reach Tony—will be blowing up with calls and texts from an understandably irate May Parker. While Happy is personally of the mind that she deserves to know the truth, he’d rather not deal with putting out that particular fire on top of everything else on his plate today.

He’s about to walk out of the room, but something on the nightstand catches his eye. Happy goes over and picks up a small folded piece of paper, finding neat handwriting inside. 

  Dear Happy, 

Thanks for helping me last night and letting me stay over. I would have let you know I was leaving but you were sleeping and after how late I made you stay up, I didn't want to bother you.

Also, don't be mad but I thought you should know that you snore REALLY loud. I'm no doctor but you might want to get that checked out.

Sincerely,

Peter Parker

 “That little shit,” Happy murmurs, reading over the part about his snoring again with no small amount of disgruntlement. Yet all the same he makes a mental note to call his doctor later in the day and make an appointment.

After all, he might have missed out for the time being on the big talk he had planned. But actually paying attention and taking Peter more seriously? Letting him know in every way he can that he’s listening, that the kid can trust that he’ll be there if he needs him?

Taking responsibility for all that begins right now.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #414

“mirror, mirror, tell me who you see  /  am i you or me?  /  i can never remember”

How many people have you kissed? Four. Ever kissed someone you weren’t dating at the time? No. Of the people you’ve kissed, how many do you regret kissing? Two. Ever been kissed by a legal adult when you were a minor (or vise-versa)? Yeah, with Jason, but it was only a two-year difference. Ever kissed someone on a dare/as part of a game? No. Where’s the most public place you’ve ever made out with someone? Nowhere public. I wouldn't do that. Can you snowboard? Never tried. Have you ever made a mixed cd for someone? No. Do you use recycle bins at your house? Yes. Do you own more than one bathing suit? No. Have you ever kissed someone who smokes weed? Jason did occasionally with his best friend, but he stopped for me. How are you right this second? I'm all right. Last night was pretty rough, so I'm just glad that's over. My body is just tired. Is there anything you disliked about your last birthday? Honestly, I barely remember what I did on my last birthday. I just remember it was fine. Oh wait, actually, on the way home from going out to eat, we had to call the cops while behind a car whose driver was obviously drunk or high OFF. HIS. ASS. He was swerving like crazy and almost hit SO many cars. I was having an absolute panic attack. I pray to God that guy was more than just found and fined. Do you keep a diary or journal (offline or online)? No, unless you count surveys, I guess. What were you like a year ago? I was the unhappily the same. Is someone on your mind right now? Fucking always. Having a warm dream about him last night didn't help. Who was the last person you sat next to? My mom. What do you currently hear right now? My screen is split so I can watch John Wolfe play some indie horror games. What’s something you need to go shopping for? I need to get new bras baaaadly because I'm tired of none fitting properly. What’s the last thing you ate? I had a donut 'cuz Mom stopped at Dunkin' for coffee. Do/did you do good in school? I did up to college. Then I just... sucked. Do you always get along with your siblings? I mean I don't see/talk to them every day or anything, not even very regularly even, but we generally get along fine now as adults. We disagree about shit for sure, but keep our mouths shut. Or probably talk to Mom about it while I'm not present. I don't even think they like me half of the time. Are you frustrated with anything? So much. Why did you fall for the last person romantically? There were/are a lot of factors. Just she as a person is phenomenal. What’s your younger sibling’s name? Nicole. Can you speak in a different language conversationally; if so, which language? A tiny bit of German. Do you ever fear of falling asleep? With my nightmares, I used to dread it. Now, thankfully, my APAP mask has prevented them from happening, mostly; I've only had two in the month that I've had it, and I ordinarily had them every single night. Do you have an idea of what kind of profession you’d like to have? I do, but I honestly doubt I'm going to succeed in even making it a part-time job by this damn point. Which beach would you say is your favorite? I don't have a favorite. I don't even like the beach very much. What kind of cookie is your favorite? Chocolate chip. Have you ever had a churro? Yes. Too crunchy and ridiculously sweet, not a fan. Truth be told, are you more into looks or personalities the most? A good personality beats good looks any day. How is/was your chemistry class in high school? I actually didn't take chemistry; my graduating year, physical science was offered as the alternative, which I took. How does alcohol affect you? I get hot, and my face flushes badly. It'll make me more talkative. Have you ever tried lemon brownies? No, and I don't want to. I don't like lemon-flavored stuff like that. What was the last type of meat you ate? Beef. Have you taken any medication today? I have prescriptions I take every day. Have you ever watched Parks and Recreation? I've seen some of it at Sara's house. What is your favourite kind of pasta? Just spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs, really. I've been on a major chicken pesto kick lately, though. Have you set an alarm today? No. Think of a random person, and give them a message here, no names: Literally just the chance to say "I'm sorry" would be fucking amazing. Just two fucking words. What if there were two of you? Would the world be in trouble? No. That'd be a waste of space, though. Not like I'm contributing much to society. Would you prefer an ice cream sundae or an ice cream cone? I dunno man, it depends on my mood and what I want in the moment. Do you watch movies with the subtitles on? No; I find it to be distracting. Is the last person you kissed yours? I hate this saying. She's her own person that belongs to nobody but herself. But to just go along with it and answer the question, no, we're not together. Do you think you will be married by the time you are 25? Welp, I'm halfway through 25, so. Do you have siblings over the age of 21? All of my siblings are. Do you have a hard time admitting you’re wrong? No. Especially as I've aged, I'd say I'm pretty quick to accept if I've fucked up. Who has the ability to hurt you the most emotionally? Jason will probably always have that power, even if he's not in my life. Would you ever be a stripper? God no, nobody wants to see that. What are your plans for tomorrow? Just get through the day, man. Do you owe anybody money? No. How would your parents describe you? Reserved, shy, a deep thinker, animal lover, uhhhh... What is the most you have ever weighed? Let's not. Would you ever work at McDonald's? No. I'm never working in food service. If you aren't already, would you go vegetarian or vegan? I want to be a vegetarian and being a vegan would be perfectly ideal for me, but I really don't think I can healthily accomplish either. I am FAR too picky to where I'd almost definitely become malnourished. To make it even worse I absolutely cannot "suck it up" if I don't like a food, so it's not like I could choke down stuff I don't like. Not to mention I'd be pretty sad without any yummy food to look forward to, aha. Coolest person you've ever met? Uhhhh I don't know. Do you wear boxers? No. Girls, how old were you when you first learned how to put in a tampon? I don't remember. Would you ever attend a gay pride parade or festival? I would absolutely love to. Did you see Paranormal Activity 2? I think I've seen all of the movies. I liked them, given paranormal horror films are probably my fave. What would you do if an old man grabbed your ass? Kick him in the fucking balls so goddamn fast and probably slap him across the face at the same time. Probably cry later from feeling violated and having my fear of men aggravated. Do you like moustaches? It depends on the person, but I'd say I generally prefer an attached beard and a mustache versus JUST a mustache. Could you hack into someone's computer if you tried hard enough? No. I have no idea how to do that. Have you ever smoked a cigar? No. Do you go out on Black Friday? Hell no. NOT worth fighting people for deals. Do you have curtains in your bedroom? No; I have those blinds that you can close upwards or downwards. Did you like the Spice Girls when you were little? Yeah, I did. Can you sing the entire Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song? I think I can. Do you get heartburn? I'm literally on an antacid prescription, or else I get insane heartburn every day. Are you scared of elevators? To a moderate degree, yes. I'm terrified of it getting stuck. Have you ever seen a dead body in person? Yes, at an open-casket wake. Have you ever seen The Goonies? I have. If you're white, do you ever wish you were black? Or vice versa? I'm fine being Caucasian, but ultimately don't care. Do you bake cookies all the time around Christmas? I don't bake. Do you like your hair pulled? Uhhh... I'm assuming you mean this in a suggestive context, in which case no. Never pull my hair, actually. What kind of jeans do you like? Ripped skinny jeans. What do you think is overrated? Who really cares. Let people enjoy what they enjoy. And what are your goals for the remainder of this year? Lose lots of weight, find a job, get back into old hobbies and develop new ones... Name a city that starts with A in your state/province etc. Asheboro. Name a landmark that starts with M in your state/province etc. I'm blanking right now. When was the last time you gave a horse a carrot? Been years. I think I've only done that once, and I can't even remember where it was. Have you ever had to shovel snow? No. How many seasons is your favorite TV show in so far? MM was just revived for its fifth season! :') Where would you most like to go in your state, etc. that you haven’t been? NC actually has this really old Wizard of Oz theme park! It's on the other end of the state, though, and NC is one wiiiiiide state. What was the last bird you saw? A robin, I think. What color was the last thing you drank? Green. Has a wild animal ever been loose in your house? Besides insects, no. Well wait, scratch that, once or twice we had a small mice problem when we lived in the woods. What’s the name of the bookstores in your city? The only one I know off the top of my head is Books-a-Million. Where do your parents live? I live with my mom, and Dad lives in the same city as us. Have you ever seen or touched an iceberg? No, but that would be cool. What colour are your father’s eyes? Brown. If your ex turned up on your doorstep now, with nowhere else to go, would you let him/her stay? Well one, this isn't my house, so I can't make that decision. My mom being who she is though, she'd let pretty much anyone stay the night. If it was Sara, Mom would let her stay as long as she needed. The last time you cried, was it connected with someone of the opposite sex? Ugh, yes. My PTSD was BAD last night. Delicious warm brownies or a giant cookie? I'll take the brownie. Have you visited a haunted building or area before? No, but damn I'd love to. Have you been to North Carolina? Ayyyyeeeee that's my home.

[stylesvolume94]

She’s Moved On

July 21, 2020 // 11:03 pm 

“Ah, c’mon H, I’m sorry!” Benny was trailing behind a stomping Harry attempting to get him to understand his remorse. “Listen, I didn’t plan for tonight to go down the way it did...you know that if I had any idea she was going to show up I wouldn’t have asked you to come with!”

Harry suddenly spun around just as they had stepped up to his apartment door. Face red with anger and fists clenching at the hoodie in his hands as a reminder to not hit anything, Harry got up in Benny’s face not bothering to keep his voice down. 

“That’s just it, Benny! Never wanted to go in the first place, but you always have to push and push!” Benny cast his head down slightly, furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw in frustration. He had only wanted to get his friend out of hiding and around good company, but he never expected her to be there. Then again, it was a very popular fair and the whole group knew that Brayley still lived in the area. 

After several minutes of heavy breathing and counting back from one hundred, Harry closed his eyes and brought his hands to his face, hiding his shame in the soft black hoodie. He shook his head trying to rid his anger away the best he could. He knew it wasn’t Benny’s fault that she showed up, anyone could’ve shown and if anything, it was Harry’s fault. He was the one that dated her, not Benny or any of his other friends. Being the first time in years he had seen her, he was more than taken aback. 

With a final shake of his head, he ran his hands down his face. “Just please leave. Wanna be alone for the rest of the night.” Harry turned to put the key in the lock, having a bit of trouble from his trembling hands. 

“M’sorry, Harry. Really, I am.” Benny’s voice came out as a whisper and Harry knew he really meant what he said. Out of their small group of friends, Benny and Harry were the closest. He had been there on Christmas day when Harry was alone and in a fit of rage from his breakup. Had been there when Harry broke down in the worst amount of guilt and shame he had ever felt. He was the one who drove Harry to his first therapy appointment and rehab group and has never once made Harry feel badly for his past mistakes.   

With these reminders, Harry turned back to his best mate, glancing up at him and offering the smallest tinge of a smile. “Yeah, I know.” He whispered. “S’ok. Just tired now. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, a’right. Goodnight, H.” Benny retreated towards the elevator just down the hall as Harry entered his apartment. He went straight to the kitchen and opened up the cabinet closest to the fridge as if on instinct. He furrowed his brow when he was met with a few glass dishes and then dropped his head in humiliation. He’s been sober for years and here he was looking for a drink. He felt sick. 

Opting on a glass of apple juice, Harry sat at his dining table, staring at nothing in particular as the darkness surrounded him. The only light coming through was from the moon and Harry wondered if Brayley was laying on the beach with her new boyfriend, talking about nothing as her face split into a shit eating grin and her hands gestured wildly in the summer breeze. Tears sprung to Harry’s eyes at the image. 

With a defeated sigh, Harry carefully placed his head in his palms and rubbed at his temples. The events of hours ago replayed in his head as he remembered seeing his ex-girlfriend for the first time in several years; a real wakeup call and kick in the ass if anyone were to ask how he felt the moment his eyes landed on her beautiful figure. 

---------

7:18 pm

“C’mon man, it’ll be fun as shit. You know Dax will be there and he’s bringing his bag, so don’t pussy out now. Come get high with us, eat some shit food, and go on a few rides. You can’t mope around forever.” 

“Y’know I don’t do that shit anymore, Benny. Stop being a dick.” 

“The only one being a dick here is you, H. Just say yes, and I’ll stop askin.”

With a roll of the eyes, Harry rose from his spot on the worn leather couch to gather his keys and wallet before heading to put on some shoes. Less than pleased, he followed Benny out the door for their twenty-minute drive. Bennet had been trying to convince Harry to join him and their group out to the local fun fair, but Harry was stubborn. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to be around other people and definitely not at a place that reminded him of his past mistakes. He eventually gave in, only wanting his friend to shut up and the night to be over. And maybe he wouldn’t mind a churro and slurpee. 

7:47 pm

“All right, what’s our game plan?” Benny clapped his hands. Rubbing them together, he was way more excited than Harry thought he should’ve been upon arriving to the fair and meeting the others. It was quite a beautiful evening; seventy-some degrees with a breeze coming in from the lake. The sun was still high but would go down in the next hour or so. Laughter, music, and the squeak of rides filled Harry’s headspace and he wondered if he might actually be able to enjoy himself or at least use the pleasurable environment to lift his mood. 

As promised, Dax brought his drawstring with small baggies that Harry had no interest in accepting. Jace and Brit showed up hand-in-hand, Tyson trailing behind already a bit red-eyed and too smiley. Harry loved his friends, adored them really even if they were all slight druggies who partied too much. They were good company and were the only ones who stayed after Harry’s bad breakup. His ex didn’t take a liking to them, she had thought they were bad influences that were going to take his mind off his music and ambitions. Harry hadn’t thought so and this led to more fights than he could count. Memories of past fights were interrupted by a happy Tyson.

“Hazzy bear! What is up, my guy?” Ty walked up to Harry with his arms outstretched and a goofy grin plastered on his face. He was laughing at nothing and upon pulling him into a tight hug, Harry scrunched his nose at the smell of whiskey encasing the slightly shorter man. 

Harry spoke with a mixture of disgust and understanding, browns furrowed. “Tyson, you’re high as shit mate.”

“Hell yeah!” Ty bellowed out joyously, making Harry flinch and his nose turn up. He took a step back. “How much did you drink before coming here?”

“Oh c’mon, H! Don’t start with your newfound sobriety shit. I’m here for a good time, don’t ruin it!” Though his words came out seriously, Ty ended his scolding with a childish giggle. “How long you been sober for anyways, Haz?” Harry didn’t want to talk about this now. It seemed too heavy a conversation for a ‘fun’ night out. Then again, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself should Ty begin pressing for an answer. 

“Three years.” His face was firm, his voice even more so, indicating the end of the conversation. His friend didn’t catch on. 

“Ah, y’right, y’right. And what, no Brayley tonight?” As Tyson started to smirk, Harry grew tense and eyes widened at the sound of her name. ‘Why bring her up,’ Harry thought, ‘There’s no reason, no fucking reason.’ 

“What the fuck, Ty? Stop, you know that shit’s touchy.” Jace smacked Tyson on his right temple, as Benny scolded him. 

“Oh, fuck off, mate. I was just messin.” Harry shook his head, eyes downcast and chest tighter than a minute ago. Though the sun was shining and weather still nice, Harry felt his body turn cold with remorse and then flush not a minute later with embarrassment. 

He hated the reminder of her. Hated the constant nag of guilt that still hasn’t subsided, and as he was given a round of sympathetic glances, he felt he was going to be sick. ‘I don’t need sympathy. Don’t deserve it.’

Suddenly, there was an awkward tension amongst the small group. They all knew what happened between Harry and Brayley, how he treated her and how she left him. Harry was a wreck after but before his sadness was anger. He was pissed that she had left him, that she wasted two years of his life, and even more pissed at the idea that she had gotten with him for the money and fame. Of course, though, that wasn’t true. 

When his year of anger vanished, he was hit with regret and guilt. That’s when he started his therapy for anger and rehab for alcohol. The years seem to drag day by day, yet they’ve passed so quickly. Dr. Tallon said Harry’s been getting better, giving him weekly exercises and tasks to get him through any temper fits and a prescription for the anxiety and grief that is also improving. 

Harry liked Tallon, though often felt he was too therapeutic at times, way too sympathetic and kind. Harry didn’t need sympathy. He needed answers to why he did what he did, for someone to explain to him why he felt so fucked-up and broken when years ago he felt lively and powerful. Maybe soon he’ll figure it all out. 

Harry was brought out of his thoughts once more as he heard Tyson slightly slur Brayley’s name again. As he spoke, Harry stalked toward Ty with a scowl on his face and fists balled at his sides. “Fuck, Tyson! Would you shut the hell up about her, already? I don’t want to hear her name come out of your mouth again or I swear-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Harry.” Ty interrupted with a less than amused tone. “I only said her name because she’s here.” 

Harry felt his chest cave in and for a second he couldn’t breathe. ‘Here? Right now?’

“What?” He meant for his question to come out more authoritative, but it ended up sounding quite pathetic when his voice cracked. Tyson didn’t answer. Instead, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder to turn him slightly right. 

His face softened and hands carefully reopened. If anyone were to see him now, they would think he had just witnessed something magical. Maybe a love-at first sight situation or the setting of the sun on a beach with waves lightly crashing and weather just absolutely perfect. But the truth could be seen in his eyes; they were pained, so sad and shocked and confused but also happy in a way that he got to witness her beauty once more. 

And there she was, wearing small jean shorts and a bleach-spotted black t-shirt that seemed to be torn from the bottom to make a crop-top depicting some sort of band that was too hard to make out from the distance. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he saw her wearing such revealing clothing. The problem with this thought was the outfit wasn’t that much revealing at all but being with Harry meant wearing clothes he deemed appropriate. The old Harry, of course, for now he understands how controlling a nature he had with Bray. 

She looked amazing. She was a bit tanner than he remembered and her hair a longer length but still a wavy brown that made her look incredible. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from her small frame. Seeing her for the first time in so many years seemed almost mocking, as if the universe wanted to toy with him, punish him. Brayley was laughing, smiling up at this man next to her who wore a smile just as big. 

-----------

11:21 pm

Harry was brought out his head when his phone buzzed from inside his jean pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text from Tyson. ‘I’m sorry Haz. Didn’t mean to ruin our time or make you uncomfortable. Call me tomorrow? Maybe we can go to lunch when I’m not high as fuck. Love you H.’

Feeling as though he’s sighed a thousand times since he left for the fair, Harry let one escape his lips before he downed the rest of the juice in the glass. He stood to place the cup in the sink then headed for his bedroom. Harry didn’t bother taking off his clothes nor do his usual routine, he was too tired, felt his heart was still too heavy in his chest.  

Harry closed his eyes and tried to allow his brain to shut down. He wanted sleep, prayed for it and for the day to be forgotten so he could move on. But as the minutes dragged into hours, Harry huffed and turned to face the ceiling. Memories of his ex at the fair began playing through his mudded mind once again, but this time, with every glimpse of her and that man she was oh so happy with that evening, came a flashback to when Harry called Brayley his. 

------

8 pm

The two were in line at a cotton candy stand. Harry watched as the tall, also tanned man handed over a few bills to pay for the purple and blue swirled candy floss. He saw Brayley snap her head to the man’s face and he realized she too had her hand up with some cash, ready to pay. Harry felt his heart squeeze painfully at the sight; she was surprised at this man’s kind gesture.

November 15, 2016

Throughout their relationship, Harry had asked Brayley to pay for their meals only a few times. Brayley didn’t mind and often found herself asking to pay because she felt so lucky to have Harry in her life. She wanted to treat Harry to nice meals and hoped that those small gestures reminded him of her love. 

The last time he made her pay came about unexpectedly, though, and further into their dating. Brayley thought they were having a really nice night out. Harry had finished writing for the album, had finished recording and his record was in the mastering process. Harry wanted to celebrate and Brayley hadn’t seen him so happy to go out for dinner since their very first date. When the bill came and Harry looked across the table to his girl with expecting eyes, Brayley knew the night was going to take a turn. 

“I pay more than half the rent. I pay for all your car problems. I paid for your books this semester too! And what, you can’t get this one fucking food bill?” After going back and forth for several minutes, Harry tried his best to keep his voice hushed. He spoke in the most threatening tone, face hard and hands beginning to ball under the table. Brayley was surprised at his sudden anger but not as much as she wished she should have been. She was too used to his foul mood that never went away; she just didn’t think he’d bring up his paying for her as a way to make her feel guilty. 

“I didn’t ask you to pay for my books.” Brayley felt defeated, utterly helpless and completely embarrassed in that moment. “You surprised me with it, and I never asked you to pay for my car maintenance either, you said you would so I could focus on my loans. And I pay you back for my share that I don’t pay outright for the apartment.” Tears started forming in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. “Please don’t make it sound like I’m using you for money or something because we both know that isn’t true.” Throughout her pleading, her voice was soft and never once raised. She always hated that about herself; how she was never able to fight back when Harry belittled her and made her feel weak.

“Well sorry I’m just trying to be a good boyfriend, hm? Maybe you should try being a decent girlfriend sometime.” So, Brayley paid for the meal, hesitantly of course. After paying off two thousand dollars’ worth of some student loans, she was unsure if she would be able to afford their expensive Italian meals. She’d quietly asked Harry once more when she saw their waiter approaching if he could just pay for this one night, but as the young man reached the table, Harry only stared at her. She knew she was going to hear it when they got home, knew she was in for a loud and lonely night, yet again. 

A few days after that date, Harry walked through the door with his hands full of Chinese take-out, ready to surprise his girl after a bit of guilt crept its way into his chest. Upon shutting the door and turning towards their bedroom, he heard Brayley crying in the hall bathroom. He pressed his ear to the door to better understand her through violent hiccups. She was confessing over the phone, to her mother he later found out, that she was late on a loan payment because she didn’t have the money right then and was now facing a hefty fee that she knew she couldn’t pay. She never brought that up to Harry and Harry never helped her out. 

---------

8:32 pm

Brayley and the mystery man had moved to stand in line for the ferris wheel. Its slow blinking lights and very faint stereotypical clown music used to be enough to make Harry lose his ever-loving mind, but as he witnessed such a gorgeous woman be helped inside a blue-scraped car, Harry couldn’t help but feel like absolute shit. That should have been him on that ride. It should have been him she was smiling at as the wheel turned to lift them high into the sunset. 

June 15, 2015

“Hey, H, could we go on the ferris wheel?” Brayley had tugged on Harry’s jacket sleeve, asking to go on her favorite ride at the fun fair. She had a soft spot for it as that was the ride her father always took her on as a child. Now she wanted to experience it with the new man in her life, her boyfriend of two years. Harry was apprehensive about even going out that night but Brayley mentioned that he promised she could pick their entertainment for the weekend. 

“Don’t wanna.” Harry muttered, his mood the same as it was the moment he agreed on steeping out for the evening. He was less than pleased to go to a damned fair; he hated the noise, the children, everyone in bathing suits as they come off the beach and right onto the fair rides. He hated the fun fair, always had. Brayley was determined to get Harry on the ride. She thought he would love it, think it was somewhat dreamlike, but she was dead wrong. 

“C’mon, it’ll be super cool! We’ll be able to see the whole fair and out into the lake, too. It’ll be really pretty, c’mo-” 

“I said I don’t want to go on that fucking thing. Besides, we don’t have enough tickets.” As he spoke, Harry kept his eye on a football match he had pulled up on his phone that his friend Benny sent him. He took a seat on a nearby bench making Brayley talk as she followed. 

“Yeah we do! S’only like four a person, I think. I can cover for both of us.” At this point, Brayley was begging for her boyfriend to do something with her, something she enjoyed for once. 

As he tried listening to what she was telling him, Harry missed the main point of the video, getting frustrated at his girlfriend’s voice. “I don’t want to! Why can’t you just accept that?” He barked at Bray, resulting in her frame deflating and face flushing from his scolding. 

But just like every day, her voice was the softest she could make it. “Because I wanted to do something fun with you.”

“I brought you to this damn fair, didn’t I? What, you’re not having fun?” Harry set his phone on his lap, putting all his attention on the girl in front of him. He knew that if he focused on her she would get slightly uncomfortable at the confrontation-like position of them and stop asking. 

Brayley knew at this point he wasn’t going to change his mind. But, maybe guilt-tripping him a little would get him to soften up. “We haven’t really done anything except eat and watch people play games...” 

Then again, he’s never been soft with her. “You know what? Go on the stupid thing your damn self. I’ll wait here until you’re done.”

That’s how Brayley ended up in the single rider’s line, waiting her turn to be ushered into a tiny swaying cat. She wanted to be excited but part of her was embarrassed to be standing where she was as she witnessed dozens of smiley couples get into their own little car. She was brought out of her sadness when the worker opened her side of the gate to let her into a shining red one with a young man already inside. Confused, she stepped up and in, taking a seat next to the other single rider as he latched the safety bar across their laps. 

“Hi, I’m Chris.” His voice was kind, soothing and distracting as he stuck his hand over to shake hers. 

“Brayley, nice to meet you.” She offered a kind smile. 

Chris returned the gesture. “You as well. So, nobody to ride with, huh?

“Yeah, no. Unfortunately, not. I didn’t see you in the single line?” Maybe small talk will make this experience way less awkward. 

“Yeah, my boyfriend was with me, but he chickened out at the very last second. Had to be let out but he said he’d get us some corndogs while I took a quick round.” Chris was nice, super nice. He seemed really sweet as well and as the two slowly moved then stopped every so often to let on new riders, she found herself becoming comfortable next this stranger. She had completely forgotten about her small tuff with her own boyfriend just across the way from her, but she didn’t care. She wanted a minute to herself to be in the company of someone who didn’t have a scowl on their face every second of the day. 

When the ride ended and the two strangers said their goodbyes, Brayley made her way over to Harry. It should be noted that he had witness the entire exchange between the two just moments ago and was not very thrilled at the idea of his girl talking to another man. 

That night, Harry broke three plates and five glass cups after accusing Brayley of finding her ferris wheel partner on purpose to make him jealous. She fell asleep in the guest room; too upset to sleep next to her boyfriend’s hard, whiskey-filled body, and too afraid to confront him the next morning. 

---------

9:47 pm

Harry unapologetically had watched his ex and her new man walk to the opening gate of the beach. Benny was trying to get his attention but as he pressed Harry to stand from the food truck-provided bench, he was met with a deep huff and child-like cross of the arms. A real pouter if he’d ever seen one. The two lovebirds seemed to float over the sand with hands interlocked. Slowly, she placed her opposite atop the man’s forearm. Resting it there gently, she glanced up as if to see if he was angry at the action, to see if he would pull away and scold her for touching him. But he didn’t. Instead he leaned down and placed a delicate kiss right above her brows and then another on the top of her head when she blushed furiously and looked towards the ground, biting her lip to tame the smile stretching across her now reddened face. It made Harry sick. He longed for a chance to do that with her; hold her hand and lie on the beach to watch the stars shine above. 

October 3, 2016

“Stop.” Brayley laugh at Harry’s deep tone, thought it was a playful demand. “Said stop, Brayley.” Impatient. Again, she tried slipping her hand into Harry’s to thread her thin fingers through his thick, ring-covered ones. He wasn’t best pleased at the final attempt. “Brayley! What the fuck, I said stop!”

Harry had fully turned toward his girl with arms down by his sides and fists balled. He took a threatening step forward, warning her that should she try again he would flip immediately. Brayley backed down, like a dog submitting to another to show they understand the others dominance.  “Sorry...I thought you were just messing around...”

Harry wanted to scoff at such a pathetic reply. Wanted to laugh in her face for trying to ease his anger but instead he surrendered to the fire burning hot in his chest. “You always think I’m pissing around when I’m not. You joke too fucking much and it’s annoying as hell.” With one last glare, he turned to continue down the wooden path that lead to a bench-filled side of the beach. They were to have a picnic and watch the sunset. Brayley already felt too uncomfortable to continue the night. “Sorry.” She whispered, though Harry was already several yards away. 

A little while later, when the sandwiches were devoured and lips stained red with wine, Brayley looked over to her boyfriend of two years. In her slight haze of a mind, she forgot about his flaws, how he treated her like trash and did almost everything but make her feel loved and secure. She saw him for his outward beauty. How it augmented when the sun was low enough to cast such a magnificent golden glow upon his tanned skin and made Harry close his eyes ever so softly to bask in its brilliance. 

Without much thought to anything at all, Brayley leaned over the picnic basket, closed her eyes, and pressed her cold lips to Harry’s warm ones. His eyes flew open at the sudden pressure and hands jutted to pull her away. “Brayley, are you fucking kidding me?” He seethed.

Out of breath and slightly confused on what had just happened, Bray furrowed her brows and returned to her original place on the blanket. She thought for a minute then tried her hand at reasoning. “There’s not many people around...I just wanted to give you a kiss...”

Harry was more than fed up with her excuses. “Doesn’t matter! I don’t like PDA, you know that. So why do keep trying to kiss me and hold my hand? I hate it when you do that shit in public. I told you to just fucking stop!” Properly shouting at this point, the pair caught the attention of passerby who wore sympathetic smiles, that is if they dared to look over. 

“M’sorry. Won’t do it again.” Another whisper. She was too embarrassed to look over. 

Hours pass by and the pair remained on the blue checkered blanket, but now Harry had laid down with his feet buried in the still hot sand and sweater-clad arm resting over his eyes. Brayley felt fine at this point, not as loopy as she had before; Harry’s scolding sobered her quickly. But as she watched the waves crash over and over again, she felt the breeze become more intense with the passing minutes. She took a chance at asking Harry for a bit of help. 

“H?” She tried. “Hey, Harry?”

“What?” A grumble, could’ve been worse. 

“Would it be all right if I wore your jacket...just for a little bit? I’m getting kind of cold.” To get her point across, Brayley let out a shiver and began rubbing her hands together. Harry was having none of that, his nerves were shot way too early in the day and now he was completely done. 

“Oh, you’re getting cold, huh? Didn’t I say this was gonna happen? We come to the beach at night and you think it’s gonna be like ninety degrees or some shit. I told you to bring a jacket, I told you several times, so what, now I have to be cold just because you decided to be stupid and not listen to me?”

She was too tired to argue. Tired of the way he always spoke to her and tired of the fighting. She knew if she had responded, Harry would’ve gone off and their late-night picnic on the beach would be properly ruined. So, she brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around herself before laying her right cheek against her freezing skin. Looking out into the ocean, she sent a prayer that Harry’s attitude would lighten up as quickly as the sun had set. Two hours later, she was properly shivering. Harry stood to pack up the basket and empty bottle of wine, not before commenting that her teeth chattering was the most annoying sound he’s ever heard. 

---------

2:02 am

Harry hadn’t had a proper cry in months but after doing so he felt the smallest bit better. This was what he needed; he needed to see her one more time, had to remember all that he did in order to work through that shit that was kept mudded up in his conscious for so long. He needed to cry it out. If he was ever going to get better, be better, Harry knew it was time to put Brayley Wright behind him. Not completely forget about her because being with her taught him so much, the understanding just came too late. 

Chest moving softly and slight hiccups escaping passed his lips, Harry began talking to himself. He tried to tell his mind that he was okay, that everything was going to work out no matter what, he couldn’t control fate but he could control how he lives his days from now on. As he reasoned with himself, Harry began nodding at the silent words he was thinking. He was feeling himself drift off, finally, but before sleep completely took over, Harry whispered one last line to the dark apartment bedroom: “She’s moved on. It’s time you do the same.”

[slutsofren]

Churros & Dole Whip

Summary: It takes a lot to get your CEO husband, Kylo Ren, to leave his work and go on a date. Not to mention a date to Disneyland. He loves you very much and begrudgingly agrees since it'll make you happy. Just, don't forget to mention the matching shirt!

Alternatively, I commissioned a self insert art piece of Kylo & myself on a date at Disneyland and wanted a companion fic. Check my tag (Churros and Dole Whip) for the art!

Tags: car blowjobs / smut / fluffy Disneyland shit / sex in Cinderella’s castle

Read on AO3 here!

“Yes, Lord of Utmost Darkness, you will go to Disneyland with me today.”

“Dearest, I’ve already told you time and time again, you can go for the both of us. You know how much I hate the heat and being surrounded by,” he flung his hands around the air, “people!”

“Please, my love, just for one day can we both not be Kylo Ren and his strong and intelligent wife,” you pleaded. Since Kylo moved to Los Angeles to be closer to you for a third of the year, he listened to you whenever it came to the rules of the city. This was your territory as his was New York. You’d never deny his constant need to not just show you off around the bright city lights, but to also show you these places he’s held so dear. Now it’s your turn.

Kylo grumbled something under his breath and you saw his walls finally breaking. He could never resist you for long. Before you knew it, Kylo obliged to wearing the shirt you had already picked out for him. A black shirt sporting “I’m the Prince Charming” across it to match your “I’m the Princess”.

He picked the shirt off the bed where you laid it and looked at the shirt, looked at you, back to the shirt, and one more look at you and rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I love you so fucking much.”

You gave him as big of a smile as you could muster and crossed the room to drape your arms around his big broad shoulders, “Not nearly as much as I love you.” You kissed his cheek and he turned to face you, circling his arms around your body. You both gave in to a short yet lovingly filled kiss.

He groaned, throwing his head back dramatically and you laughed so much your whole body shook. What an absolute baby, you thought. “Come on, get ready, love.” 

Kylo, begrudgingly, got dressed. You had already gotten your shirt on and were on your cell to call a driver. It only took a half hour from your quaint home in the Arts District of Los Angeles, otherwise you’d be complaining like hell with the traffix. You both always grew irritated at the constant construction that seemed never ending on the 5 freeway. 

“Dopheld, dear, will you bring the car around,” you asked sweetly, “Mr. Ren and I are ready for our outing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am, I’m not that old yet,” you whined and threw a pout as you hung up. Dopheld apologized quickly before ending the call, surely he knows you’re only half joking with him.

Kylo finally came around the bed, dressed all handsome in his Prince Charming shirt. When you faced your incredibly indulgent husband, he shrugged and twirled, letting you preview how the shirt fell on his body, kissing his broad shoulders and impeccable chest. You admit you drooled a little in your mind. Who could blame you?

“Come,” you say as you walk around him, giving him a small pat on his plump ass, “Disney awaits.”

Dopheld arrived in your security vehicle, with the kind of work you do, a girl could never be too safe, especially when your husband was who he was-- those were some precious jewels he had on him.

Both you and Kylo dressed down for your day ahead at the theme park, he even sported some black jeans that hugged his ass perfectly. It also helped that his cock looked delicious in them too. Today was going to be a great day with maybe a little bit of teasing. Maybe.

The time it took to get from your apartment in the Arts District to Anaheim took less than an hour, but oh, did his cock truly look appetizing in those jeans!

“Dopheld, dear, would you mind giving us some privacy?”

Your assistant obliged and Kylo lifted a brow towards you, questioning your motives already. Once the blackout separator was raised, you swiveled in your seat to face your dearest.

“Is there something you’d like to say, little one?”

You dramatically fluttered your eyes up at him, a playful grin kissing at the corners of your lips. You had less than an hour until you reached Anaheim but you wanted to make the most of this.

Kylo pushed a stray piece of your hair behind your ear as you unbuckled the seatbelt without saying what you were planning and settled yourself on your knees between his spread legs.

“Oh, it’s going to be one of those dates then,” Kylo said with a hint of humor in his voice. Ever since you both got married, his anger has drastically settled around you, a person who he could be free of his past and let loose around. That isn’t to say he didn’t let his anger get the best of him elsewhere.

You rubbed your greedy hands up and down his thighs, coaxing his raging hard-on. Not once did you feel the need to look anywhere but his eyes. The simultaneous lust and encouragement that he flashed in his expression gave you more of a confidence boost.

You began to kiss up his open thighs, doing your best to not let go from his body and start feeling yourself. Kylo took this as an open invitation to slide down the seat a little more, petting your hair out of your face. The jacket that he brought along was thrown somewhere to the left of you.

By the time your kissing had made it to his covered bulge, you could feel his cock straining against the denim, seeking your touch, your comfort. You looked up from kissing Kylo’s magnificent body and he cocked his eyebrow, “Well don’t stop there, little one, you should always finish what you started.”

“With pleasure,” you whispered as the zipping sound filled the back of your security car. You pulled down this jeans ever so slightly to release Kylo’s cock from it’s cloth cage. You grasped it within your hands and laid ever so gentle kisses up and down his shaft, letting miniscule touches of your tongue reach out to him the closer you got to the tip, that ever so delectable tip that shared the same colour as his lips.

The more you teased him the more he leaked, almost as if it was crying out to you like tears, wanting to be inside of you; that’s all Kylo ever wanted. To be close to you, to hardly ever leave your side.

His hands wrapped themselves around your hair, fingering those soft tendrils. You gave his jean covered thigh one small and gentle kiss as you wrapped your fingers around his length expertly. He always felt warm, sometimes too warm in your hands and mouth, but that was alright, it was like a sign for you. That he’s really here and he’s real.

You held his cock in your left hand as you laid chaste kisses up his thigh all the way up to the tip, the look in Kylo’s eyes growing dark with want. He sucked his bottom lip as you sucked the head of his leaking cock in turn. Kylo pressed his fingers harder against the back of your skull, encouraging you. Your hot tongue curved around him, taking him in, feeling those raised veins you’ve come to love. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises as you take him deeper and deeper in your mouth. Your hands working his shaft where your mouth can’t reach. Kylo let out a groan as you swallowed him whole, taking him deep, deep, deeper.

Kylo lets out yet more groans after groans as you moan around his cock, the vibrations of your throat sending his cock wild while being sucked in the confines of your mouth. Your head bobbing and weaving in his hands.

The tip of his fat cock hit you deep in your throat, you loved the feeling of being so full, of his scent, his touches, his hums of pleasure, of his cock burying itself so deep inside you that you could practically touch the stars that flurried in your vision. These were the moments you craved so badly.

With his fingers clutching the back of your skull so tightly, pulling and pushing your head deeper and deeper on his cock, you could feel the tightness of his balls underneath your hands, grasping at the moment before they’ll spill all you wanted to savor on your tongue, painting your throat.

Kylo let out a stifled shout as he released everything his body could offer. His taste far too familiar in your mouth, a whole goddamn buffet behind your lips.

“Fuck,” he breathed heavily as you pulled off him with a pop. You wiped your mouth and he raised you up by your chin to meet him for a kiss, “Good girl. Always pleasing me.” Your lips raised into a proud smirk 

“I’m always here to serve-”

The blackout window lifted just an inch and you heard your beloved assistant clear his throat, “We are pulling up.”

As you adjusted yourself back into the companion seat next to your husband, he helped adjust your hair, pushing it away from your beautiful face, like you were the only star in the entire galaxy, the only star that belonged to him and him alone.

Kylo adjusted his cock back into his jeans and you fixed your lipstick in a small handheld mirror you carried with you, careful to reapply whatever parts were rubbed off from your adventures.

Dopheld was gracious enough to not acknowledge what went on in the backseat, he never did. You paid him well enough and it was because of your marriage that he was able to meet a husband of his own.

Outside of the car windows you watched with excitement as your assistant brought your car around to the executive drop off zone, an area explicit for higher profiled visitors. Afterall, between Kylo and your own empire, you were a multi-billion dollar couple. It was the least the Disney company could offer. You made idle chatter with Kylo as you approached a rather handsome Japanese man.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ren, welcome. My name is Tetsu and I will be your personal guide for the day.”

Kylo turned and looked at you, what the fuck written across his face, you grinned wide and offered a hand to Tetsu, the Cast Member met your gesture and you both shook hands. “Thank you so much Mr. Tetsu, we’re looking forward to today's plans.”

Kylo looked astonished and began to pick up on all the hints- the shirts, the private entrance, this tour guide. You had already set all of this up, knowing that you were going to drag his ass all the way out here. He grabbed your hand in his and you only gave him a mischievous giggle and walked ahead dragging your stoic husband to the happiest place on Earth.

Tetsu led your way through the private gate entrance into the theme park and announced the morning was to be filled with a variety of experiences but for now, to begin your day with the newly refurbished Pirates of the Carribean. You admired tastefully with the additions, wanting nothing more than to read more about women as pirates in history. When your boat came along to the scene of Redd threatening to shoot men at an auction, you elbowed Kylo, “That could be me!”

If it wasn’t inappropriate for him to just kiss you and dip you back, he would have been on it in a heartbeat. Alas, there were eyes watching, and plenty at that too. There were cameras everywhere in that particular ride giving warnings to guests with similar and more explicit ideas.

Next on the agenda was Haunted Mansion, feeling super ecstatic to sing along to the theme and do your best to follow along with the Ghost Host narrator. As your small group entered the foyer of the ride, you felt your body buzz with excitement. 

Using your best impression, you held onto Kylo’s strong arm, "When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls, whenever candle lights flicker where the air is deathly still, that is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight ..."

Kylo couldn’t help but laugh, genuinely laugh at the sight of you. You truly were something else and he was so happy to be your husband- that thought alone made him feel like a damned domesticated dog but it was worth it, to be here with you, sharing a laugh. Seeing you smile. He would never trade this lighthearted feeling, especially not after what you two suffered through to get here.

As the stretching portrait room went on, you encouraged Kylo to look to the ceiling as the Ghost Host came to one of your favorite parts, “And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows and no doors which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out!,” he laughs. “Of course, there’s always my way.” Thunder claps and there, a body is hanging from the rafters, as the room fills with sweet screams. Yours included.

Kylo jumped with your scream, “Babe, what the fuck?” You let out a hearty laugh as your Cast Member guide led you through the portrait hallway, even smiling to himself.

By the end of the ride, Kylo seemed a little more relaxed, just indulging you in these lighthearted pleasures as you recited line after line and sang along to the various songs that played in each “land” throughout the park. 

The precious Cast Member you were with wholeheartedly agreed in each and every one of your whims and desires, it was only your dearest Kylo who was putting on a little bit of a rebellion.

“Please, just wear this,” you pleaded, “I already bought it, you have to wear it now!”

Kylo threw his head back and closed his eyes, “I don’t want to.” He put his hands over his face, trying to cover up the little hint of a smile kissing on the corners of his rosy lips.

In your hands was a helmet, modeled after one of the characters from Disney’s latest contracts. Not only did the black helmet look slightly like a dome but it was also adorned with Mickey Mouse ears.

“Well, if you insist…”

The voice you used was his absolute weakness with you. You used this soft spoken voice of pure innocence to get whatever your heart desired with him. Kylo was a strong man, just as you were a strong woman who would fight with every ounce of your being to get what was yours. Today though, today was different. You weren’t you and Kylo wasn’t him. Today you were both ordinary people and ordinary people at Disneyland… wore silly things on their heads.

“Give it here,” Kylo took the helmet out of your hands and put it on his head. “Happy?”

You put his face in your hands, “If I could marry you right now, I would,” then laid a gentle kiss on one of his freckled cheeks. Just saying that made his heart squeeze, that is the one thing he wants to give you more than anything in the world.

You reached into your bag and pulled out the iridescent Minnie Mouse ears you purchased for yourself and placed them on your head. Now, your fun filled day was really starting.

Mr. Tanaka, your Cast Member guide, led you two through your itinerary while simultaneously filling you both up with churros and dole whips, of sweet mint juleps, as well as a chimichanga… or three. Kylo didn’t have much of a sweet tooth often and never wants to admit it either but he enjoyed these treats with you. When it came to the chimichanga, he openly admitted they were probably one of the best trashiest things he had ever eaten and put in his body which was saying a lot.

Lastly on your day trip, your guide let you two finally experience a treat. Nighttime in one of the newest parts of the Disneyland park- Galaxy’s Edge. This latest edition was constantly packed day and night with tourists from all over the world. With it being one of the largest land expansions since the acquisition of Lucas Films’ Star Wars, it was quickly becoming a main attraction.

“Whoever this Darth Vader guy is, he gets it. I like him,” Kylo mumbled under his breath while browsing the wares in Dok-Ondar’s Den of Antiquities. The shop was filled with Dark Side memorabilia as well as intricate gifts for the fellow enthusiast.

You grasped his hand, “Of course you do, he’s kind of like you. Tall, brooding, dark,” your flirted with your eyes.

“Now, now, what did I say about finishing what you start.”

The two of you wandered Black Spire Outpost, spending a lot of time looking around the Sith side of the area until the fireworks began. The scenery was so beautiful with the most attractive man in the world’s arm around you.

Your time in the park concluding, Mr. Tanaka guided you through the dispersing crowds to your dinner reservation in Liberty Square, the dark and ever secluded Blue Bayou.

Your guide left the two of you as you settled into a secret area for priority guests and that would be the last you’d see Mr. Tanaka for the rest of the evening. There were just too many seductive looks at the other, you both had practically been eye fucking across your dinner table in the Blue Bayou.

Which isn’t to say that his hands didn’t wander under the table. He did more than just drag his long fingers up and down your inner thigh, he teased you and didn’t bother to finish what he started as you ate and left the restaurant.

“What is next on the agenda, Mrs. Ren,” he asked as he held your hand and looked down at you, hints of smiles kissing his dearest lips.

You grasped both of his hands as you continued to walk towards the next part of your evening. “Follow me, Mr. Ren, let’s make some fantasies come true.”

There was a small secret entrance underneath Cinderella’s Castle, the pinnacle of the theme park. Inside was a special room where select guests could spend the night in the castle itself.

Up the winding stairs and into the room, each little detail made to last in your memories forever. The canopy bed was the central part of the room, made to look like it came straight out of the medieval film. Kylo, still holding your hand, whispered, “Can we fuck in here?”

You let out a hearty laugh and pulled him a little forward, walking him towards an opened window for you both to watch the firework show. “We can desecrate this entire room with our blasphemy, Kylo.”

He bent to kiss you deeply, showing you how much love and adoration he has in his heart. Kylo made some shitty choices in his life but you? You were the best decision he could have ever made.

As his tongue slipped past your lips, loud booms went off in the sky. His large hands cupped your face as more and more fireworks went off. This entire moment reeling with love and excitement overwhelmed you.

As the kiss settled, his face lit up blue, white, gold as the fireworks shot off. “I love you, starlight.”

You replied with another chaste kiss to his lips, “As I love you.”

He held you close as the two of you watched the show in the sky but you couldn’t help but stare at him. Kylo truly was the love of your life and you both fought like hell to get to where you were today. It was all worth it. He was worth it.

“What is it, starlight, something on my face?”

Kylo looked down at you and began to brush invisible crumbs away. You said nothing as you rose onto the tips of your toes and gave him a sweet kiss on his lips.

“You’re perfect, Mr. Ren.”

Kylo grabbed your jaw as he kissed you tenderly, your fingers finding themselves in his long black locks. You felt his other hand find and tickle its way under your black shirt, leaving flaming hot traces on your skin.

Both of you separated for a brief moment as you took the other's shirt off, tossing your matching clothing away, softly landing somewhere else before coming back together in harsh clashings of teeth and bruising lips. His lips, gosh, his plush rosy lips. Perfect in every way but never looked better when they were pressed against your skin, leaving sweet succulent trails of lust and love behind.

He could taste the Californian sun on your skin as he kissed every bit he could reach on your cheeks, your forehead, wanting nothing more than to love on you and praise you for the goddess you are. 

“Take me to bed,” you whispered.

You jumped as you felt Kylo’s large hands caress your bottom as you wrapped your lengthy legs around his waist. He let out a groan as you bit his lip, enticing him to be a little rougher with you. You felt him carry you to the bed and drop you, your body bouncing a little off the bed, eliciting a soft laugh from your plump lips, fresh full of your husband’s kisses.

With space between you now you looked at his face, still flashing with the multitude of colors from the sky. Tones of gold, red, each color you wanted to taste off his skin. “I love you,” you whispered. He responded with a sly smirk, hands slowly unbuckling his belt.

His silence was deafening.

You propped your body up on your elbows, an eyebrow cocked as his retrospective cock tastefully filled out his jeans.

His belt whipped around as he stripped it from his belt loops. For a brief moment you thought he would use it until he saw the expression on your face, a devilish mixture of fear and desire. He discarded the belt somewhere off to the side, removing his jeans after. “As much as I would love to give your plump little ass a nice spanking, I’m sure the children outside wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before, dear.”

Kylo stepped forward and grabbed the hem of your pants, pulling them off your legs in a swift motion. He tapped your thigh, “On your knees.”

You did as he asked, not commanded, no. Never. Kylo knew that in the bedroom, you both played your own game of tug-of-war, dominating the other round and round the bedsheets. Just like when you were lovers.

There was a nice gentle breeze as he removed your panties, inching down your legs. You felt his warm tongue licking its war around your center, his teeth even taking little bites around your thighs.

The pillow against your face felt heavenly as you let out a long breathy sigh as Kylo began his adventures in eating you out. You were faced to the window, still watching the light show just on the other side of the glass. Everything felt perfect.

You felt the mixture of his saliva and your own spent dribbling down your thighs, a sign that you were more than ready to feel his thick cock in you. The bed dipped behind you as Kylo pulled your body up, a hand caressing one of your breasts, removing your bra, as the other found its way to your core once again.

He played with you, teased you. Teasing your shoulders and neck with sweet kisses. You reached over and pulled him down, straddling him. “Enough playing, my love.”

Kylo removed his last article of clothing, his boxers, and you hovered over him. He rose, one hand on your hip and the other finding itself tucked beneath your hair at the nape of your neck, he pulled ever so gently, a sigh escaping your lips.

He took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking, biting, kissing, teasing, yes yes yes, oh yes. 

The soft moans escaping your lips only egged him on more and more, not to mention your growing impatience. You reached around behind you and lined his cock up to your entrance, anticipating the stretch.

“Fuck me hard,” Kylo whispered deeply, his voice a low growl. 

You smiled against his mouth, “As you wish.” You both let out a groan against the other's mouth as you lowered your body onto him. Bodies coming together in unity and the utmost love. You began to grind against him, loving each thick inch he had to offer you.

A whine left your lips as Kylo lowered his body back down against the plush comforter. Fireworks still exploding, not even halfway through the show playing outside the beautiful window, matching the show playing in the bedroom. Heavy breaths and sighs filled the room, creating your own symphony, melodic music of your love for the other.

Kylo’s sharp fingers grasped your hips, aiding your bouncing on his cock, leaving tiny crescent moons across the skin as if matching the constellation of stars across his body. Truly the moon to his stars. He furrowed his brows, concentrating hard watching his length disappear in your pussy.

You leaned forward a little, still giving him a show beneath but wanting to touch his soft luscious hair so bad. Your fingers became lost in his locks, caressing his head. In this new position your tits came into his view and he let out a louder moan, “You’re so good to me, little one.”

You responded by flipping your bodies, forcing him to kneel on the bed without losing contact between your cores. A soulful laugh left your lips as he smiled, “Now be good to me, Mr. Ren.”

“As you wish, Mrs. Ren,” he mirrored.

Kylo bent to kiss you, softly and gently. Nothing will ever be more perfect than this.

[mamahanu]

Damn, I wanted to insert text for the "500 words or less" fanfic ask but unfortunately Tumblr doesn't allow for that many words in an ask. Which is honestly just one of MANY fucked up things about Tumblr... Anyway it's for your story, Omertà, and is in chapter 25 halfway through - approx a 500 word segment starting with, “Shit!” Tony exclaimed, tone the complete opposite of Friday’s calm voice. “Shit, okay. Friday, can we move him?”

Curse you, Tumblr! Never fear, @dragonnan. I know the passage you’re talking about. :-) Omertà consumed me for many, many months, and I still think about it, even though it’s complete. My commentary will be in (bold.) 

“Shit!” Tony exclaimed, tone the complete opposite of Friday’s calm voice. “Shit, okay. Friday, can we move him?”

(The thing about Tony right now is he’s panicking. And prior to this he has been building up his panic reserves for days. The last time he actually saw Peter, he yelled at him and took his suit back. The reaction Peter gave him was not what he expected. His original reaction was one of the most hated moments in Homecoming for me. It made no sense. Peter doesn’t do what he does because of a fancy suit. He does it because it’s the right thing to do. Therefore, he reacted accordingly in my fic, and now Tony has a better understanding of what makes Peter tick. He’s been worrying and fretting about Peter getting into all kinds of trouble, and now it’s like a nightmare come to life, seeing Peter so injured.)

“Excuse me,” the woman said, standing up, “I am a nurse, and it would be very unsafe to move him without the correct equipment and without know the extent of his injuries—” (So this, this right here, is Claire being a BAMF. I’ve not known her to take any shit in any of the Netflix Marvel stuff I’ve seen, so she’s not taking any from Iron Man either. She is a delight, and underappreciated.) 

“Claire,” the man behind him said, “he’s got an artificial intelligence that probably just read off the injuries to him.” (probably, Matt? come on. Everyone and their dog knows you can hear it.)The woman crouched down again next to Peter, checking his pulse and muttering something very vulgar about her companion.

(I LOVE Claire. I love her and Matt and how they interact. I love her in Luke Cage. I just love her. She has no powers. She gets in terrifying, life-threatening situations and she still helps the supers. Because she knows no one else will do it, and they need her. She takes the Night Nurse gig very seriously. I knew in my heart of hearts that if Matt had come across Peter this injured, the first thing he’d do is call Claire.)

“Analyzing,” Friday said as Tony shushed the others. He heard footsteps and turned, seeing the masked man walking up to them. He held out his hands in a peaceful gesture.

“Mr. Stark,” he said, calmly. “There are some things I think you need to know—”

“Did you have anything to do with this?” Tony snarled.(So I really enjoyed writing this. This is Tony’s go-to Dad mode for me, at least when Peter’s hurt. All snarl and bite.)

The vigilante sighed heavily. “An associate of mine brought him to me, after a request of an associate of his.” (I.. worked this about 10,000 times to try to make it less confusing. And I didn’t like any of my solutions. So... it stayed the same. I was displeased.)

“Well that’s not vague and confusing at all,” Tony said, sarcastically.(Tony was also displeased.)

“This is a different world. We aren’t all Iron Man. Most of us don’t have the protection of billions of dollars, and even some of the best lawyers would have a hard time picking apart those Accords, despite how unconstitutional they are,” the other man snapped back. (Speaking from experience there, Matt?) “So forgive me for protecting the identities of those who would be quick to suffer Secretary Ross’s wrath.” (So for those of you who read this fic this far, the anti-accords speech is nothing new. Peter was spouting it. MJ was spouting it. Everyone who is enhanced in my fics do not like the Accords. As they are horrible and nothing good can come from them. Tony spent a good amount of time in the background learning some things about his guilt-ridden support of them. I’ve said this many times: Steve didn’t have to do him like that. But Tony wasn’t in the right, either.)

“Not you, too!” Tony yelled. “Look, I’m doing my best with them, okay? Nobody is going to be sent to any kind of prison until they make more sense. I’ve got mutants in high places looking them over—”

“Enhanced peoples,” the masked man corrected. Tony rolled his eyes. “Does Spidey know that no one is going to be imprisoned until they’re sorted?” he pressed. (I really like Big Brother Matt, too. I am in full support of more representation of this.) 

Tony paused. “Why—well, I mean, he’s asked and I’ve told him not to worry. But it doesn’t matter. He stops bike thieves, for God’s sake—” (The fact that Tony found him going after alien weapons’ dealers and holding together a Ferry still will not sway him from the idea that Peter only gives directions to the Churro lady.)

“He’s in something way over his head, and has been for almost a year now, if I figured out the timing right,” the masked man interrupted. (Matt is incredibly perceptive. From the moment he met Peter as Spider-Man, he knew who he was, and what he was doing. He just didn’t know the name of his employer. Peter... was in WAY over his head, and had been burned so badly by Fisk he didn’t trust anyone to help him out of it.)

“Mike,” the woman from the floor called. “Don’t be an asshole. Stark needs you to get the point.”

“Boss,” Friday chimed in. Tony held up a finger for silence. “I do not detect any fractures in Peter’s neck or possibility of damage to his spinal cord if he’s moved. As long as he is kept fairly still, it should be safe.” (I made this up. I did not google this. I took what I remembered from First Aid and hoped for the best. @kitcat992 can school me later. XD)

“Send out Mark XLII. When it gets here, we’ll load him in. Also, call Cho. Let her know we need her at the Tower ASAP.” (So, to be honest, I’m pretty sure Tony would say ‘screw it’ and throw Peter over his shoulder. But I cringed at him doing that. I thought it was a better idea for him to get one of his suits, considering the extent of Peter’s injuries.) Tony was glad he held off on actually putting the building up sale until after he started moving everything over. There was still an active medical wing there. Tony hadn’t moved the equipment or beds. He told Pepper it was because he wanted to add a certain usefulness to the aesthetic of the place for potential buyers. He was pretty sure she knew he was keeping them there in case of a spider-related emergency. (I, as the author, knew there was medical stuff in the tower. I also hadn’t said there was medical stuff in the tower prior to this point. So I just... blurted it out in a blurb here. If I ever go back and edit this, I will be sure to layer that in in previous chapters.) “Also, tell her we need the fancy meds that we use on Steve, alright?”

“Got it.”

Voila! I hope that proved satisfactory, my friend, and I’m sorry it took so long to answer! 

Fanfic Directors Cut: ask me anything. 

[rambling-at-midnight]

Inferno: Part 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

I’m not sure how long I’ll make this... maybe three or four parts?

If you’d like to be added to my Peter Parker, Marvel, or Inferno Taglist, let me know!

You storm into the compound, not even noticing the ground cracking where you stomp your feet, and fling your bag, which is filled entirely with clothes, away from you with so much force that it hits the concrete wall and makes a dent.

“What the hell was that?” your father slams the door shut.

“You know exactly what!” you yell back, pointing a finger at him when he takes an angry step forward. “The boy you spend my entire captivity gushing about—the boy that’s never been to prison, the boy that hasn’t killed anyone yet—you bring him with you to pick me up? Me, your biological child—”

“I wanted you to be friends!” Tony roars. “God forbid I try to put you out of your comfort zone, Y/N! I get that you’re angry, and I’m sorry you were stuck in that awful place for so long but I was fighting the whole time for you to be free!”

“You took me nowhere when I was free!” you scream back, feeling your fists heat when you clench them and your face heat as well. “You bragged about me to nobody because you’re ashamed of me, and don’t admit it! Now you’ve found the perfect straight-A kid and what, you bring him everywhere? I bet he’s gone on vacation with you to Hawaii, right? You even brought him to pick up your delinquent child like you’re showing her off like a prize pony at a show!”

Tony kicks a chair. It skids across the room and into the far wall. “I wasn’t showing you off at all! I wanted to help you adjust after a year of captivity! I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think about me!” you bellow. “You never have, because I wasn’t something that you got to choose, but you chose precious Peter Parker and that makes him perfect, huh? I bet you take Peter Parker on vacations and talk about him to all your rich friends and you never mention poor charity case Y/N Stark, the criminal vigilante!”

His face red, Tony roars, “Do you want me to talk about you with my friends? What do you want me to talk about, Y/N? ‘Hey, Rhodey, let’s talk about Y/N, whose mother kept her a secret her entire life—’”

“Don’t you dare talk about my mother!” You point a flaming finger at him, not even recognizing the heat. You suppose that’s what happens after a year of numbness. All the emotions come rushing out at once.

“I am not replacing you with Peter Parker, Y/N,” Tony says, softer now, and it makes you even angrier. What right does he have to be quiet when everything inside of you is raging?

“You’re right,” you say sarcastically. “He’s not my replacement. He’s your do-over. Well, have fun with that, Tony,” you spit. “I’ll get my delinquent ass out of your hair. Maybe I’ll go meet up with Cap, won’t that be fun?” It’s an empty threat; Cap doesn’t like you after you’d almost torched his ass for beating up your father in Siberia and you don’t like him that much either. He’d always been too... uppity.

I bet Peter’s uppity, you think derogatorily, and almost feel bad. It’s not Peter’s fault that your father’s an ass.

“Do you want me to talk about you?” Tony asks, a little desperately. “I’ll talk about you right now. Do you want me to use the Instagram you made me? I’ll put it on a story right now.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you hiss. “I want you to leave me the hell alone. God knows I heard enough talking from you from the past year to last me a lifetime.” You storm out of the room. For some reason your eyes are stinging.

“Do you want me to take you on a trip?” Tony calls after your retreating back. “We can go anywhere, Y/N! Please, come back and we can talk about this!”

That was definitely one of the worse fights you’ve had with your father. He wants so badly to please, but he’s also prideful and stubborn, and so are you. You’re bound to clash heads a few times. And shoving you into a loud, cramped helicopter after about a year of almost solitary confinement didn’t help matters.

You didn’t want to be angry with your father. You wanted so bad to be happy to see him, because you do know that he feels bad that you were locked up and he couldn’t do anything about it. And you do love him. But you haven’t been anything but angry ever since you realized that they were locking you up unfairly. And now that you can’t get in trouble for heating up, there’s no reason to bottle your anger up.

You’re going to catch a few criminals.

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

You know who Spider-man is. Obviously. You weren’t allowed to log into your own social media accounts, but you weren’t completely cut off from the world. So yes, you’ve heard all about the masked web-slinger, even if he’d only barely emerged before Germany and hadn’t operated in your same area of New York. You’ve seen videos of him doing his thing on the internet. He seems like a cool dude, if a bit naive. He takes churros from old ladies and helps people recover their stolen bicycles. He says hi to people and does backflips to show off to those who ask for it. He seems like an all-around upstanding guy.

You weren’t expecting to see him, although perhaps you should have anticipated that after the initial hordes of fans excited to see that you’ve been released. You’re sure there will be thousands of theories floating around the internet until your father releases the initial statement. Maybe they’ll think you escaped from the prison. Maybe they’ll think you killed all the guards in order to escape. Maybe they think you’re on the run now.

Besides, he seems to operate in the skies, and you prefer to keep your feet on the ground.

Either way, Spider-man stands in front of you now, extending his hand. You reach out to take it back but he recoils and you see why; you’re still glowing with heat.

Your face goes red (with a blush, not heat) as you shake out your hand and then take his firm grip.

“Are you good?”

You take a look around at the various bodies on the ground and shrug. What was sure to be a gruesome scene is still a gruesome scene, but in a different way. The bodies of four men lie on the ground. Spider-man took out two of them with his webs and you took out the other two by shattering one’s kneecap and severely burning the other’s arm after he shot you. You’d already been having a bad day, so who can blame you for grabbing him with a red-hot hand?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say briskly. The wound hurt for barely a second before your skin closed around the bullet, as it tends to do. Walking back to the compound will surely be a pain in the ass, and so will doctors cutting you open to fish around in your guts for the metal bullet, but it’s better than bleeding out. You quickly pull your shirt up, exposing unmarred skin. “See?” You tap the tender bump near your hip bone and grit your teeth with pain. The bone must have stopped the bullet. “It’s right there.” If only you’d had enough warning to harden your skin.

“Thank you so much,” the girl you’d saved says breathlessly. She clutches her purse to her chest and, despite what had nearly happened to her, seems no worse for the wear. To the contrary, she looks at you and Spider-man with a near-hero worship. “I can’t believe I just got saved by Inferno and Spider-man.”

“Do you want an escort home?” Spider-man asks, making you blink with surprise. You’d never thought before to walk the people you save home. He really is a nice dude.

The girl shakes her head. “My Uber is here.” She points behind her. “Thank you so much again, though!”

You wave good-bye to her and take a step back, ready to start your trek back to the compound, but the bullet grinds against your bone and you grit your teeth to keep from screaming.

“I’m pretty sure that having a bullet in your skin is not ‘fine’,” Spider-man says gently. “I’ve got a first-aid kit back at my place, if you want—”

“Really, I’m fine,” you wave him off. You’ve had worse. Much, much worse. “It was cool to meet you, though.” You awkwardly dip your head at him. “You’re pretty cool, Spider-man.”

Spider-man snorts.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s just...” he brings his hand up to his mask and almost looks like he’s going to pull it off. “Well, if you knew who I am under this mask, you wouldn’t say that.” His hand drops back to his side.

You shrug. “Then keep wearing the mask. I doubt I know you, anyway; New York is pretty big. You might know my identity, but I’m not pressed with burning curiosity to know yours.” At least, you hadn’t. If running into Spider-man becomes a regular occurrence, you might become more curious. “Besides, I think I’d still think you pretty cool. You’re a superhero, aren’t you?”

“Look, I really don’t feel cool with you walking home on your leg—”

Your voice has a hard edge when you insist, “I’m fine. Really. But maybe I’ll see you around?” There is a disgusting hopeful note when you ask that, and you curse yourself for sounding desperate.

“Definitely.” Spider-man nods and you’ll be damned if you can’t hear a smile in his voice. He takes a step back and trips over a trash can, landing hard on his ass, and you cover your smile with your hand in order to preserve his dignity. “I—I’ll just—I’m going.” He flips to his feet and waves like a dork at you. You wave back and he jumps onto the side of the building to your right. It takes you aback; seeing his powers on YouTube is very different than seeing them in real life.

When he’s at the top, Spider-man peers over the edge of the building and waves at you a second time, making you realize that you’d been watching him climb. “Are you sure—”

“Bye!”

Inferno Taglist:

@paullrud @eridanuswave @loveissupernatural @moistpotatobear

Peter Parker x Reader Taglist:

@iconicbabesss

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen