#now it’s my right hand ring and pinky finger from cold weather and washing my hands in the cold

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

Every winter I forget how awful the eczema on my fingers feels until the eczema on my fingers flare up again

[4lexturn3rs]

Hot In Here - Alex Turner *smut*

It was a hot day in London, which was a rarity, so of course y/n had no clothes to dress for this weather. Her best friend Alex was coming over today to help her rearrange her apartment. She had been living there for a year now and needed a change.

The doorbell rang and y/n sprinted up to let her best friend into the loft. As she opened the door, her knees locked, and she felt her hands clam up. Alex's quiff had fallen in front of his face and had deflated due to the incessant heat. "Y/NNNN!!" Alex engulfed her in his enormous arms and she tried not to faint, maybe from heat, or maybe from the overwhelming random thoughts she was suddenly having about her best friend.

He unhooked his arms from her back, and she felt empty again. "How've you been, love" he walked into her apartment sliding off his shoes, having always felt at home in her presence. "Yeah, yeah, I've been alright, fucking heat's killing me slowly" she walked over to him and sat down on the counter next to him where he was standing sipping a cool glass of water. He began going on about his life and things that happened to him in the week, but y/n was spaced out on his fingers wrapped around the cool glass with the condensation dripping onto his hands. He finished talking and wiped the water onto his jeans. "Am I right or am I fucking right y/n/n" damn I should've listened, she thought to herself. "Fuckin...yeah Al" he nodded and relief washed over her. She had gotten away with her daydreaming.

"By the way, I meant to ask you, what's so interesting about my hands." Shit "how do you mean, you're so random" just play it cool y/n, you got this. "Well, you seem to be more concerned with me pinky ring than what I was really talking about, considering I just said 'your fashion designs are shit and you should give up immediately' which, by the way I don't really think" she had not passed as easily as she thought, what the hell kind of excuse did she have planned.

"I was just... spacing out, I'm sorry about that" his hand raised slightly to caress her cheek and hold her face closer to his. "Really... I find that one hard to believe love" confusion and lust coursed through her veins as she struggled to keep her feelings hidden from his deep stare. "What were you thinking about, huh? Imagining my hand running up your thigh like this' ' as he looked through her filthy thoughts and picked out ones to share, he began to bring these thoughts to life, as if they were his own memories.

"Maybe...my cold ring around your small neck, so small love, so small compared to me...always will be" she nodded her head along with him, completely mentally checked out only focusing on his hand and what it would unpredictably do next. Suddenly, his knees dropped to the floor, and he began to press sloppy wet kisses all over her thighs, just knowing how much she longed for him.

"Such a dirty girl, having these thoughts for me even though it could ruin our friendship, just can't help yourself, can you?" her head was in the clouds now and all she managed out was a simple sigh. He stopped. "What was that dolly, can't hear you" "no Alex, I can't help it, im sorry" she barely squeaked out "its Alexander to you now y/n" he place his index finger on the waistband of her panties and looked up at her through batting long lashes. "Okay?" he whispered. "Okay." she breathed back, feeling safer now that he had asked.

He slid her panties down, exposing everything to him. He bunched up her dress to her waist and went down on her. She pulled her hand over her mouth as to not moan too noisily, knowing how thin her walls are. Alex stopped and came up. He pulled her hands away from her mouth "I want to hear you, darling," and with that he disappeared under the table again. She was hesitant at first, but in no time, she was screaming his name. "Alexander, I'm gonna..." "I know baby, I know, let the whole city hear ye love, hear ye screaming me name" the knot in her stomach began to loosen as her moans seemed to cut through the heat and bring release and peace to her body. "Fuck, Alex, how did you do that" she breathed out trying to steady her voice. "Loads of practice," he said nonchalantly "now, let's get to moving"

(a/n) omg, I'm going to hell, let me know if you want more smut or any imagines you want, I'm down to write anything!

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele WW2 Extension - The Fear of the Unknown

June 10, 1944

Saying goodbye to Frances was hard after they spent the day of the 6th together grieving and writing home, being each other’s only comfort in the face of true despair. They held each other one last time before Charles had to return to his squadron, wrapped up tightly in each other’s familiar embrace and shared a few tears and extra squeezes before letting go. Frances left her second little brother with a kiss to his cheek – having to rise onto her tiptoes slightly to do so – and then took his face in her hands and made him swear through his tear-filled eyes to be careful out there.

Charlie could only whimper out a breathy, “I promise” to her serious expression. Frances tucked Richard’s gold ring into Charlie’s hand, closed his fingers around it without a word, and they parted ways.

Charlie was returned to the RAF after the initial landings at Normandy and he was soon assigned to a singleton Spitfire on the force. Flying alone was nothing less than brutal and he constantly missed his co-pilot, his best friend, and his brother. But he wore the gold ring on his right pinky, a piece of jewelry he never thought much of when it came to his brother who received it for his 18th birthday and rarely took it off, but the engraving of RB on the top of the band meant more to Charlie than he even knew possible.

The fight for Europe was far from over and Allies fought long and hard to push back the Nazi armies back into Germany. Charlie tried to focus on his work but it was difficult when his heart was still in that empty field on the coast of France. It seemed as if the rest of his squadron was perfectly fine, going about their day and fighting through in air battles like it was no big deal, but Charlie’s chest had felt so tight for days and no one seemed to care. Just another pilot lost in battle.

His reactions were slower and his attention wasn’t as strong, and his officers’ attempts to comfort him and convince him to keep his mind on his work didn’t seem to help. One flight in particular, it was cloudy and bad weather and the sky filled with gunfire made Charlie’s head more muddled than it already felt. He sat alone in his cockpit and flew his jet and tried to do his best to keep himself in the air. Between the weather and his mess of emotions swirling around in his mind, it was truly not much of a surprise that a few shots to his wing and he was spiraling towards the ground, pulling his parachute just barely in time.

June 13, 1944

Daniel hadn’t moved from his bed in five days. He struggled to eat the meals that Elizabeth brought him and he only got up to use the washroom in the middle of the night when the house was sleeping. Daniel wanted nothing to do with anyone at that moment and he wallowed in his sorrow for days on end from the moment Elizabeth got him into bed after fainting from the intensity of his panic attack. He simply laid in bed with the blackout curtains pulled and didn’t move.

Elizabeth had been in contact with Christine a lot and the women spoke over the phone in hushed tones, Elizabeth comforting her best friend the best she could through her grief of losing her son, and both of them sharing details of their husbands’ own sorrows. Corbyn was more determined to keep life as it was always before, Christine had said, as he continued getting up and getting dressed and going about his days but he never touched the newspaper or the radio and the emptiness that filled his light eyes was near chilling to his wife. They were just trying to get past day by day.

Evelyn returned downstairs that morning with a cold, still mostly filled dinner plate in hand and set it on the kitchen counter beside her mother. The women shared sad, knowing expressions and Elizabeth scraped the cold food into the garbage to wash the plate. The daughter went to retrieve the mail from the porch while her mother cleaned up the dishes from Daniel’s leftover dinner and their own breakfast and Evelyn froze on the porch as the letter on the top was addressed to them from the Royal Air Force.

It wasn’t in Charlie’s handwriting and Evelyn felt sick the second she realized what it could be. She rushed back inside without a word and thrust the letter at her mother. Elizabeth’s face fell completely at her first glance at the letter and the women huddled close right there in the kitchen as she ripped it open.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Seavey,

This letter is to regretfully inform you that your son, Charles Seavey, RAF Squadron 19, has been reported missing in action since 10 June 1944 over Germany.

I know that added distress is caused by failure to receive more information or details. Therefore, I wish to assure you that at any time additional information is received it will be transmitted to you without delay. The terms of ‘missing in action’ is used only to indicate that the whereabouts or status of an dividual is not immediately known. It is not intended to convey the impression that the case is closed. Every effort is to be continuously exerted to clear up the status of our personnel. Experience shows that many persons who have been reported missing in actions are subsequently reported as prisoners of war, but this information is furnished by countries with which are at war and thus the War Department and the Royal Air Force is helpless to expedite such reports. Congress has allowed continuation of force of pay and allowance to dependants of personnel being carried in a missing status.

Permit me to extend to you my heartfelt sympathy during this period of uncertainty.

Signed by the marshal of the RAF.

The master bedroom was dark and Elizabeth stood in the doorway with the letter in her hands and her eyes focused on the shape of her husband’s body under the blankets facing away from her.

“Daniel.” she called shakily. There was no answer. Elizabeth took a shaky inhale in preparation for what reaction he might have to the news, “Daniel, darling.”

He didn’t move.

Elizabeth shuffled over to the bed and walked around it to sit at his side where he was facing. His eyes were closed as if he were sleeping and she pet her hand through his tangled and almost shaggy brown hair.

“Darling, we need to have a little talk.” Elizabeth reached forward to switch on the bedside lamp and Daniel whimpered as the warm light burned into his tired eyes. He tucked his face farther under the blankets he had clutched in his hands.

Elizabeth glanced back down at the letter that was open in her hands, the paper quivering slightly as her hands trembled with anxieties, and she took another deep inhale. She rubbed her opposite hand over Daniel’s back and gave his shoulder a little squeeze.

“Can you listen to me, Dani?”

He barely gave her a half nod.

“I need to know that you’re going to be strong when I talk to you but that it’s okay to cry if you need to. You can’t shut down on us anymore, alright? We need you, darling.”

Daniel blinked his eyes open in confusion and he looked up at her under furrowed brows, waiting for her to continue as he shifted onto his back a little. Elizabeth took his hand in hers.

“We got a letter from the Royal Air Force this morning.” Elizabeth said gently.

Daniel’s entire body tensed.

“Charlie’s been reported missing. They don’t know where he is at the moment.” Elizabeth explained.

Daniel’s chest shuttered as he struggled to breathe.

Elizabeth patted his chest gently, “It’s okay. It doesn’t mean he’s gone. He’s just a little lost right now.”

She could see his blue eyes filling with fresh tears as he stared up at her. How much he looked like their little boy in that moment and she dropped her head to stare at her lap to keep herself from crying too.

“Lizzie.” Daniel whimpered.

“Yeah, darling?” Elizabeth sniffled, her voice trembling.

Daniel let out a small sob but he inhaled quickly to try and say what he needed to say before the tears took over, his bottom lip quivering as he breathed out a gentle, “Can you hold me?”

Elizabeth simply burst into tears, nodding as she shifted to lay next to him and he moved the sheets to welcome her under. The two parents cried together, arms wrapped tightly around each other as they laid frightened of the unknown. It had been a while since Daniel properly held her and Elizabeth wept into his chest with the feeling of relief it brought her, her head tucked under his chin and his strong arms engulfing her body under the warm sheets of their shared bed. But she held him right back, hands clinging onto the back of his shirt and kept him right up close against her with her legs tangled up in his.

The letter laid haphazardly on the other pillow, its contents staring at the ceiling right next to them as Daniel and Elizabeth cried themselves to sleep stemmed from exhaustion in each other’s arms.

Taglist: @randomlimelightxxx​ @hopinglimelight​ @hiya-its-amber​ @jonahlovescoffee​ @chanelwonders​

[hydrangeasimagination]

Ombrophobia

Pairing(s): Aizawa Shouta X Gender Neutral! Reader

Summary: The rain was solemn. Shouta hated it. Bringing memories with it. So many painful reminders. It rained when he found himself close to death in an alleyway. It rained when he met you too. 

Warning(s): Mentions of death, blood, injury. Angst!

A/N: I said there was Shouta content coming out... Never said it was going to be! Hope you enjoy! >:3c

Pain.

Agony.

It rippled under his muscles, the wounds he'd accumulated stinging and burning. The rain drumming on his skin overhead as he looked up into the sky.

He hated the rain.

He would have laughed if his lungs didn't hurt so much, if he didn't feel so dizzy from all the blood loss. A memory came to him as he lay, bleeding in some back town alley. Delirious and unable to think properly.

It was a day just like this one.

Beauty was something Aizawa Shouta had never been interested in, whether it be of others or his own appearance. Of course, he can admit if someone was attractive and can admit that he's pretty okay looking. Once more, he wasn't one to care for things of the like.

When something catches his attention and he can't help but stare, it always takes him aback. Nothing really captures his eyes other than cats or comfortable places for naps after all.

One day stood out starkly though, in his mostly mundane student life, made his time at UA perhaps a bit more colorful.

Though it had been less than colorful that day.

The rain was coming down hard, pouring in buckets and layering the skies in gray and white whilst the blue was swiped away. It was cold, damp, and Aizawa was furious that he forgot his umbrella. Yamada and Kayama had already gone for the day, much to his dismay, his parents were away for business as well.

Glaring out into the wet street, he felt anger bristle under his skin. He knew eventually he'd have to walk out in this weather, but just tried to stay dry for the time being. Until he knew he absolutely had to step out.

Sucking the air in between his teeth, eyes drifting shut while in an attempt to sooth an oncoming headache.

How troublesome.

Lids fluttering open again, the smallest of movement managed to grasp his attention. His eyes flickered to his left when he saw a flash of baby blue.

In an instant, his lungs stilled in that moment while his heart thudded dully against his rib cage.

It was you.

A hand held out, drops falling onto an open palm and splayed fingers. Eyes clouded just slightly as they peered out into the storm, the gleam of them barely phased to the gloomy weather.

The picture of someone in a moment of peace.

A very pretty picture.

Shouta felt the telltale feeling of heat crawl up the back of his neck, his cheeks suddenly ruddy and palms clammy.

Had you always looked like this?

This... Nice?

He's had a thing for you for a couple months now.

Was this the first time he's noticed?

Shit, he's staring.

His pulse spiked immediately when your gaze crossed his, realizing he's been caught, he just bowed his head. Muttering your surname under his breath in greeting to try and calm his speeding heart.

"Aizawa - san." You greeted kindly in response, the sweet smile nearly bright enough to blind, "You're usually not here this late."

Immediately, a sour taste filled his mouth again, overtaking the feeling of cotton tongue. Shifting to glare out into the wet concrete, a scowl pinching his brows tightly together.

"Forgot my umbrella." Aizawa all but spat, realizing that he would still have to walk in weather. "I gotta walk home."

It then hit him that it might look like he was annoyed with you, of which made him cast you a glance. He wasn't the best with expressing himself on top of being rather blunt in nature. But your features were pulled into one of concern, cloudy grays of the sky barely even taking from the brightness in your kind gaze.

"Oh no." You mumbled, brows pinching together in worry, a look on your face that made a pit grow in his stomach.

He really didn't like that.

Adverting his gaze, Aizawa stuffed his hands into his pockets and muttered lowly, "It's fine, I should be able to avoid getting too wet if I run."

"You could catch a cold like that."

The small quirk of his lips was something he couldn't suppress, a little bit amused. Being the type hero you were, it was a given you were so fussy. The parent-like smothering graced those you offered energy to, it'd be irritating if it weren't so endearing.

Seconds of silence dragged on as he realized that you were still there.

Still there... Because of him.

That shouldn't be making him happy but it was.

Though the tips of his ears were practically scorching at this point.

"Say, Aizawa - san?"

Okay, despite how much he liked your voice, hearing you speak so formally was... Strange.

"Just Aizawa." He muttered, scratching the back his neck.

A light huff of a laugh escaped you before you continued, "Alright, Aizawa..."

His eyes crossed your's again, chest ready to burst at the sight of the smile given to him.

"How about we share the umbrella and walk to the station together?"

Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, the heavy lead feeling of his tongue returned as his thoughts swum.

He took notice of the subtle powdering of color washing over the bridge of your nose, the sudden closeness of you to him. The dry heat radiating from you a nice contrast to the wet chill in the air.

You made him feel like the sun was out again, gracing him with its rays of warmth and brightening the rain. His lungs ached a little bit as it seemed as if he forgot to breath, the tips of his ears burning up.

His own personal sun.

There was a moment or so of silence before Shouta realized that he was just staring and admiring your radiance like a damn creep.

"Aizawa?" The call of his name from your lips left goosebumps racing over his skin again.

Shifting his posture, his back straightened and he spoke as casually as he could, "Sounds good."

There was an almost choked noise that ripped from the back of his throat as you were pressed against his side, the sudden closeness giving him whiplash.

God, you were gonna kill him.

The annoyingly adorable giggles that racked your frame made him curse, cheeks red as he groaned lowly in frustration as it finally hit him as to what you were doing.

"There were better ways than to get close to me." He groused, fingertips touching as you popped open the umbrella.

"And miss getting you all worked up?" You teased "Not a chance."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. But he made no move to step away, no move to remove the contact initiated. Not even drawing from you when you delicately linked your pinkies on the train ride, or playfully plucking at his tie between classes.

Not after it poured on your first date.

Nor the time he started a fight that left you in tears.

Through the falling and uprising.

Through years of hardship.

Not once did he move himself from your side through the years you've been together.

Even not physically there, he remained.

Dutiful.

Loyal to a fault.

... Right until the very end.

When he allowed one too many mistakes to let you slip between his fingers.

When the harsh, almost hateful, words he spoke were the last ones you heard before you were gone.

When he had to bury you and your memory before your time.

When the ring he had bought was all for naught.

They found you in an alleyway, not at all unlike the one he found himself. Bleeding and bruised from an attack, delirious and clinging to life.

The sky cried for you as he did.

He wondered briefly if this was how you felt.

Pain.

Agony.

It burns in his chest, the stinging behind his eyes nearly forcing him to shut them. Tears mixing with the falling drops overhead as he looked up into the sky.

He hated the rain.

But there was the sun.

Flooding the space with its brilliance.

His sun.

You.

Even though you were there, he still felt so cold.

His lips parting to weakly croak out the words he should have told you.

"I... I'm so... rry."

But you shake your head and just keep smiling.

So pretty and warm

The chill on his cheeks were gone for just a moment as you held his face. Sweetly planting a kiss on his head that made him want to chase your lips.

Gods, he missed you so much.

The sound of your voice made his heart ache again, crooning softly to him, "I've forgiven you a long time ago, Shouta."

But you drew your hands from him, making him panic, making him try and reach to you with shaking hands. Blood gurgled in his mouth, the metallic taste barely there as his heartbeat shifted between speeding and slowing.

"N... No... Don't go."

"You'll see me again." Your voice was like a song, the most beautiful one he's ever heard. "But not just yet."

Flashing lights and sirens blared.

Shouting voices were muffled as he stared at you, the rainfall thrumming on the concrete next to his head. His vision swam, the edges of inky blackness creeping in.

With the last remnants of his consciousness, he spoke to you once more as he choked on his blood, "I.... love you... I lov...e you... I..."

The sun smiled upon him again as your name came as a whisper, peering from between the grays and showering him in its luster.

"I love you too."

There was a peace like no other.

He managed to smile back, the blue sky blurring.

Then there was blackness.

[finecole]

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader - ’’Stark can’t fix doorbell’’

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader Word count: 2076 Note: In honour of our favourite bean returning to the MCU, I decided to finally finish this. Hope you like! 

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

‘’I swear to god if you stupid machine blow up again I am going to throw you off of the empire state building,’’ you mumbled under your breath as you took a step back from the desk, observing the little bionic arm. You held your breath as you took the tablet from the table behind you and pressed the start program button for the fourth time on that lovely Friday evening – the previous three times had ended up in spasms and sparks.

The arm started the simple procedure, raising its hand at first and then counting down from five fingers. The pinky went down, the index finger followed and even the middle finger cooperated. The ring finger, however, decided against its programming.

Frustrated, you ran a hand through your hair, throwing the tablet down on the desk. Pathetic, you thought, (y/n) Stark can’t even get a bionic arm to function. ‘’Well, at least it didn’t fucking blow up this ti-’

Too soon, sparks came from the first phalanx, followed by a small bang and the fourth small fire of the night. Unshaken by the mishap, you asked Jarvis to put out the fire, after which a small functioning arm appeared from the table top and put out the fire.

‘’Miss Stark, might I remind you of Flash’s party at 9?’’ Crap. A quick glance at the clock told you that you had approximately 20 minutes left to get ready. So, closing up the lab behind you, you took a quick shower and made work of your face and hair and put together a semi-decent outfit, not really in the mood to play dress-up tonight.

One kitchen-pitstop later, you entered the lift taking you down from the top of Stark Tower, a leftover sandwich in hand. Pepper and dad were out of town for some business at MIT, so you had had the paradise to yourself. Now, any sane teenager would have thrown a party, but those sane teenagers didn’t have a Jarvis lurking around.

In typical New York fashion, the streets were clogged by cars, so you decided you’d walk to Flash’s house, not to keen on taking the subway. It was an unusually cold autumn night; people, unprepared for the cold, hid their faces in their thin scarves and stuffed their hands into the pockets of their way-too-thin-coats. You followed suit, and to avoid as much of the cold weather as possible, you decided to cut through some alleyways, only to find a surprise waiting for you.

You turned a corner, accidentally bumping into someone as you entered the – quite shady looking -alleyway. Thrash and containers lined the walls, but aside from some rats and stray cats the alley was void of life. Despite that, it felt as if someone was watching you, so you turned around, only to be met by the sight of the opposing street.

You turned back around, a sudden voice startling you. ‘’Hey (y/n)!’’

You let out a scream and composed yourself, ready to fight – just like Nat had taught you - as a figure dropped down in front of you.

He put his hand up and took a step back. ‘’Hey hey sorry it’s me!’’

‘’Damnit Parker you scared the living hell out of me!’’

He pulled the mask of off his face, revealing his sweaty face and messed up hair. ‘’Well that was kind of the point,’’ a laugh escaped his lips.

‘’You do that again I’ll make sure to program a nightmare into that suit of yours next time my dad updates it,’’ you sighed, relaxing your body and forcing a faint smile onto your face. That fake smile didn’t go unnoticed by Peter; the two of you had been best friends for years now and he didn’t need his Spidey senses to tell him something was off.

He extended his arm and put his hand on your shoulder, eyes meeting. ‘’What’s wrong? I’m sorry for scaring you if-‘’

‘’No,no that’s fine – I’m fine, just,’’ apparently you couldn’t even form a proper sentence today. You looked down at the ground sighing, ‘’it’s just not my day.’’

Peter nodded slowly, deciding to drop the subject when he saw you look away. He’d ask later, he thought as he turned around and pushed one of the dumpsters aside, revealing a backpack webbed stuck to the wall.

‘’My party outfit,’’ he smirked, looking back at you before pulling the backpack off.

‘’So, did you plan for me to take a shortcut and ambush me or was it just destiny huh?’’ you inquired, rolling your eyes playfully as you walked up to him, looking at the clothes in his backpack.

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, drawing a circle with his finger telling you to turn around.

‘’Oh well sorry of course - it would be a sin to see an exposed chest before marriage,’’ you laughed, not forcing it this time. Peter had always managed to make you feel better, simply by just being there. His presence alone felt like a warm, fluffy comforting blanket.

He got dressed and soon the both of you were en route to the so called ‘party of the year’. You walked in silence – well, that was until Peter’s stomach started making whale-mating-calls.

‘’Did you eat anything today?’’

‘’Oh no, I was out being a ‘’friendly neighbourhood spider-man’ all day after school, told May I would pick something up from Delmar’s but I just got side-tracked.’’

An opportunity. ‘’Well we can still get some food if you want?’’

‘’No, it’s fine I’m sure Flash will have something.’’

‘’No really Peter we should go get some food,’’ you rambled. ‘’No alcohol on an empty stomach, right? And what if Flash doesn’t have-‘’

Peter stopped in his track, taking your hand into his own and using the other to lift your chin so that you would look him in the eyes. ‘’(Y/n) stop. Please tell me what’s wrong.’’

You just looked at him, mouth opened, waiting for something to come out – but there was nothing. Tears suddenly building up in your eyes told him enough.

‘’Okay you know what? Screw the party. Let’s go to Delmar’s, stock up on a whole load of unhealthy snacks and go watch a movie at my place. Pretty sure May even had some cake left over – I can’t guarantee you that it tastes good though.’’

You nodded, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill as relief washed over you. That, sounded much better than Flash’s party at the moment.

---

Two bags filled with snacks and sandwiches in hand, you reached Peter and May’s apartment. Peter fumbled with his keys, trying to find the right one when May suddenly opened up.

‘’Hey there!’’

‘’Oh hi May.’’ The both of you said at the same time.

May stepped aside, letting you in. ‘’I thought you were going to a party?’’

‘’Meh, not in the mood.’’ Peter said as he put the two bags down on the kitchen table and took of his jacket.

‘’We thought we would watch a movie instead.’’ You said.

‘’Oh, that’s fine! I’m heading off to a friend of mine, okay Peter?’’ Peter nodded, already stuffing the chocolate chip cookies into his mouth. ‘’I’ll be back in a few hours.’’

She took her purse that was sitting on the kitchen counter and said her goodbyes, leaving the two of you alone.

You quite liked the Parker residence. It was small, sure, but that was part of its charm. You were used to living in a large penthouse, and since it was just Tony, Pepper and you, sometimes it would feel like you were home alone for days. The small apartment was cosy, and May’s obsession with blankets and pillows probably helped as well.

Peter closed the blinds and threw a few bags of chips on the couch before he plopped down on it himself, inviting you over next to him and offering up the other side of the far too large blanket.

You got cosy, and without even saying a word the two of you decided to watch one of the Star Wars movies, but half an hour into the movie and you still couldn’t get into it. There was too much clouding your mind: why were you not able to get that stupid arm to work? You had made far more complicated things together with dad.

Dad. That was it. You just couldn’t get anything done without his help. Where you that stupid? How where you going to get into MIT like that, or any college of your choice for that matter. You couldn’t go through life holding your dad’s hand now could y-

‘’(Y/n)?’’ A hand on your shoulder shook you from your thoughts.

You looked over and were met by a concerned pair of eyes. Peter reached out and wiped away a tear that you didn’t know had fallen. ‘’Please talk?’’

You bit your lip, what were you supposed to tell him? You didn’t want to sound pathetic – but then again, this was Peter, your best friend. He wouldn’t care.

‘’You know that robotics project we are supposed to hand in on Wednesday?’’

He nodded, now completely turning on the couch to face you.

‘’Well, I tried – like four times, but I just can’t do it. And now, I realise, I’ve never done anything by myself. I’m always putting things together with dad, and what if I can’t do it - ever, by myself. What kind of Stark would I be? That would actually be the most pathetic thing, can you imagine the tabloids? ‘’(Y/n) Stark can’t fix doorbell, is Stark industries safe in her hands?’’ I really want this, Pete; really want to be able to do the things my dad can – imagine what I could do? I could actually help people, like dad. But now it all feels like some very, very far away dream. What if I just can’t do it?’’

You laid your head on your knees, looking away from Peter. The minute of silence felt like eternity.

‘(Y/n)… you are one of the smartest people I know, and I’m not just saying that to calm you down. Remember when I burst into your room in the middle of the night, suit torn and face beaten up? You fixed up everything, all by yourself because Tony would have killed me if he knew that I went after those criminals – who were definitely way too dangerous to take on by myself in hindsight but hey, you were the one that fixed up my suit. A million-dollar suit, made by your dad, and you – once again, you, (y/n) Stark fixed it. So what that stupid bionic arm thing isn’t working out today. You’ll try again and it’ll work. I promise.’’

You looked back at him and he gave a comforting smile.

‘’And the (y/n) Stark I know wouldn’t shed a tear about this, ya know?’’ he added, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

You threw the nearest pillow at his face, laughing, ‘’Hey!’’

Peter dodged it, of course, but you had a started an all-pillow fight, almost smashing aunt May’s favourite vase. Laughter and screams filled the room, and the movie was already halfway done when Peter’s spideysenses abandoned him for a second and he tripped, falling on to you as you both came crashing down on the couch.

You both said nothing for a moment as you realised what position you were in and the laughter slowly died.

Peter licked his lips, ‘’we’ll call it a draw then.’’

‘’Hey no - I obviously won that!’’

Peter imitated a shocked look, making the both of you dissolve into laughter again.

He was so close, his brown curls falling over his forehead framing his face like a crown. His chocolate-browns stared into yours, and as you drowned in each other’s eyes everything around you seemed to fade.

‘’Thankyou… for today.’’ You managed to produce as you seemed to sink further and further.

Peter nodded, lips parted as he hummed something, lowering his face slowly – sinking as well, until your lips met.

A thud split the two of you up, and Peter was on his feet in no time - only to notice that it was just aunt May’s purse which she had set down on the table.

A borderline evil smile crept up on her face as she looked at your rapidly reddening faces. ‘’So, tell me, how was the movie you guys?’’

[ecotone99]

[HR] Worst Best Day

We all come out the same way. Heads down, face flush, gasping for air. The first person to see us isn’t always the last. I never thought the path to salvation would look the same. My day started off the usual. A cup of coffee, some bagels, and a quick read through the New York Times classifieds for work. As I got up to get my next cup, page still in hand, I carelessly ignored my legs flopping in front of me.

As I rounded the corner to enter the kitchen, THWACK, the coffee table caught my tiny toe. Oh the excruciating pain. The over whelming deluge of expletives. The shock of near death only to realize I still have to walk twenty more feet on my destroyed digit. I hobble into the kitchen and begin pouring my drink. The glass begins to slip, so I tighten my hand a little on the mugs ring. Shaking the cup in the process. I shake it just enough to pour a little on my out stretched pinky.

The burning pinky aside I sip my beverage, insisting on ignoring the screaming finger. I open the cupboard and mindlessly grab around for the sugar. My toes still screaming the solo to free bird in my stylish pink sippers. Again I feel a sharp pain, this time on my index finger. I yank my hand out of the cupboard only to find that I had shoved my hand right into a wasps nest. This day is just starting off great I think to myself.

I begin my morning routine of getting dressed, combing my hair, and brushing my teeth. Totally oblivious as always to yet the ever growing amount of dangers facing me. As I reach for my tooth paste, my bulging finger staring back at me, I cuss again. Why this day, why now?

I open the tube, smile into the mirror nice and big, pour out the dot on the bristles, and begin brushing. All of a sudden it feels like my gums are alive. My teeth feel like they are removing in my mouth. I spit out the foamy mouth paste and stare horrified into the deep sink. The little white bubbles are crawling up the sides of my vanity dish. Holy hell, what is this?

I grab a magnifying glass and to my horrified eyes, find maggots!!! How can this day get any worse? I rinse out the sink. Throw away the toothpaste tube. I then proceed to remember the maggots that were just wiggling between my incisors.

With a heave my stomach turns into a convulsing ocean. I lurch for the abode, but to no avail. My magnificent strength and dexterity project the contents of my gut across the vanity mirror. I heave again, and another wave of morning breakfast finds its way to the surface. Leaning, broken and naked, shaking over top the vanity. Arms outstretched holding me aloft.

My hair wet, dripping the utter disgust upon my once polished porcelain. I begin to weep, my eyes washing away the hard worked hand of hours of preparation. My mind now beaten I slump to the floor. How can it get any worse? I can’t brush my teeth, I am now terrified to stand up and look at the mess I must clean. How can it get worse?

I should have stopped thinking it then. With not a moment to catch my breath a hideous eight legged monster climbed out from under my sink and onto my leg! I can’t take it, I’m done! I begin to hyperventilate, swatting maniacally at my own flesh to kill the vermin. I am completely crazed at the point of no return. I grab my slipper, reach for the sky and slam it down upon the hairy beasts menacing corpse. I felt a rush of adrenaline, a spike of emotional victory. A little win so to speak. Until the children of the whore of the earth sprouted out like millions of little hellspawn.

Their needy eyes glistening in the early morning light. I shrieked. How could this be? How could this even be possible? The exterminators has been here only a few weeks ago. How in the world could this day be even happening? I thought these thoughts as I stomped my way back to the kitchen. Hair wild and matted from my earlier expectorant bout. Eyes crazed I stared into the back door. My naked body tense, shaking in the reflection of the kitchen window, slipper still in hand.

My world shattered I stood in the kitchen for a moment to catch my breath. What else is there to go wrong I thought? The kitchen door opens and my father walks in, I am mortified I turn to run but my body is so tired at this point front hysteria I merely slump to the ground. My father rushes over to my side, “Oh my, are you ok, what happened?” He asks, helping me to my feet and handing me a dish towel to cover my lower private area.

“You look like you have had a rough morning,” he says to me with a chuckle. His grey hair and long beard made him look like Gandalf or Dumbledore, only if they were younger and more weathered. He was only 49 but he said his hair had gone grey when he was fifty all the time. I don’t actually remember when it started going grey I just remember he always had that big beard and long coat no matter what time of year it was, “always gotta be prepared,” he would say with a grin. People just stopped asking eventually and it just became his thing.

“Thank you, dad, today has been the worst. I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep, my toaster is broken and only toasts one side of the bread, and the refrigerator isn’t getting the milk cold enough to chill my coffee so I burned my tongue.” I whined to him as I slumped to my room. “I don’t want to be a bother, but, can you bring me my deodorant, I left it on the counter.”

“Yes dear.” He replied.

As I pulled my new cardigan over my favorite blue shirt I caught a glimpse of the back of the sweater in the mirror. There were three small holes just below the collar of next to the tag. How shoddy, this thing cost me 250 dollars and it’s got mice holes? I yank it off and examine it closer, sure enough three holes the sizes of a bb are in my new, lavender and gold cardigan. I am so upset at this point I am unable to comprehend what I am looking at in my hands.

My father walks into the bathroom. I am standing there holding my sweater staring like a zombie. “YO”, he shouts, “what are you doing?”

“Nothing”, I shake my head and look into the mirror. I pull in the sweater, quick reapplication, and most out the door. My father grabs my hand, nothing seems to have gone wrong again yet, we merrily skip to the bus stop, hand in hand. He jokes about the weather, and my shoes. I love my pink polka dots though but he insists they aren’t fashionable. I still love them though and chucks are classics.

We make it to the bus stop and still, everything seems to be goin just swimmingly. The morning affairs well in the past. My mind completely at ease, nothing to fear. I am stepping into the bus when the sound happens. Not loud at first, just a silent whistle, then a louder whine, soon my ears are screaming from the sound of the high pitched whirr. I beg the sky to make it stop. Everyone around me is on their knees. Hands firmly grasped to my ears, to no avail, I reach for my dad and step into the bus. We take out seats, still clutching our ears, “please make it stop,” we begged aloud together. Huddled on that bench seat, clutching one another, is the last thing I remember. It was the worst day of my life. It was the last day of my life.

After that whirr didn’t come silence. There first came crash like thunder, only for a second, like a million thunderstorms all at once. Like a flash of light everything went bright, then dark, then gone. Like a bolt of lightening to head, my last memory, was the worst morning I had ever had, but the best day I’d ever had with my dad.

submitted by /u/Kuv3dr [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2MFXFfa