#or maybe he wanted to make Pete truly hurt for his mistakes who knows

[yujeong]

Hello there! First of all, huge thanks for providing us with the terms Pete used, I didn't realize he was using such specific ones (he 100% says muay khao, I remembered it but I also rewatched the scene for the millionth time and heard it clearly). Now, googling the term, the result was this: Muay Khao, translating to "Knee Fighter" in Thai, is a Muay Thai style that emphasizes clinch warfare and devastating knee strikes. This approach is characterized by close-range combat, where fighters utilize clinching techniques to control opponents, setting up powerful knee strikes. and while it does hold truth, it misses half of the moves a Muay Khao fighter uses. In this video I just watched, the other weapon they use is elbow strikes once they have secured a clinch. (They also use sweeps, but it's not important for this post.) Now, in regards to the Pete-Porsche fight scene in ep10, all of those elements are included in the fight, however, one thing we have to keep in mind is that Pete doesn't want to fight. He keeps trying to hold Porsche at a distance, as shown here:

(He's calculating all the variables and then tries to get out of Porsche's hold and point the gun at him)

and here:

(He grabs the gun and moves back, pointing the gun at Porsche instead of going closer)

and here:

(He kicks Porsche in the stomach and stays where he is, once again pointing the gun at him)

Only once he sees Porsche can't stay still and stop fighting does he get fed up with the guy and starts engaging in the fight - for a few seconds before Porsche sends him to the ground. With all that out of the way, let's see what moves Pete uses: 1) Kicks

He kicks Porsche in his weak spots - the first one at the elbow to drop the gun, the second behind the knees to make him drop to his knees and the third on his face to make him fall to the ground. He also kicks him in the stomach on the third gif I shared above to make him stumble backwards and away from him in order to create more distance between them to use the gun again. 2) Punch(es)

It's one punch really. It's at the point where Pete wants to end this, hence him using his dominant hand for the punch and punching Porsche in the face. These are all typical Muay Thai moves so far. Let's see the Muay Khao ones: 3) Knee Strike(s)

Here, Porsche made the mistake of forcing Pete into a clinch, a Muay Khao fighter's natural environment so to speak. It makes complete sense for Pete to use a knee strike here and I also included the little moment afterwards, in which Pete is shown to hold Porsche's face titled on purpose - another boxer move from him. 4) Elbow Strike(s)

So, typically, an elbow strike is done either on the opponent's body or face, so I assume what Pete did here - striking Porsche at the back of the head - isn't allowed in an official match. However, he avoided a kick by Porsche and swirled behind him, so an elbow strike seemed like the most logical move from his POV. All in all, I can see what you mean OP. Pete seems to have had this type of training from his father and I love how they implemented this into the fight he had with Porsche.

Quick question before I throw myself from the balcony:

In episode 11, does Pete use the word มวยเข่า / muay khao as in 'knee boxer' when he refers to his father's career? If that's the case, can somebody please make an proper analysis of the fighting choreography between Pete and Porsche in episode 10 in order to determine whether Pete followed his father's training regime or not.

[tobeornottotc]

Do you think vegas will make it in the end? I know they said season 2, but do you think maybe they said that so as to distract us from thinking this? I'm getting stressed, i want vegaspete to both be here..do you think vegas saying things like making merit to meet in the next lifetime or eat so you can have strength to kill me later on can be considered forshadowing? Also, build, on the live conference thing said something about mile/kinn slapping him, so we are hopefully getting that, in your opinion, what do you think would cause the slap? Will it be because pete chooses vegas and defends him? Or something else entirely

Hi!

Sorry for the late reply. Let's get into this. Normally I don't promote things but anon if you haven't yet we discuss all of this and more on a 8 hour twitter space breaking down things all things episode 11 and VegasPete. Vegas will be one of the characters that will be in the danger zone essentially. his story depends on where the directors and writers want to stop at before they deal with him in season 2. So it's hard to explain to you what could happen with him. It's either he will be seen as dead by us the audience with a cliff hanger waiting for his rebirth to happen in the next season or if they will tackle his rebirth in this season as they have been foreshadowing to both him dying and being awake, or a side of him dying and being reborn anew into something of good. The next life conversation is part of these foreshadowings essentially the religion believes in making merits for your next wife 'washing' away your bad karma, your evil deeds, and those you hurt and getting repentance and mercy to become someone else. This isn't a scary foreshadowing because it's a positive way to view *dea*th, it is about it being a tool to bring purpose and a new happy peaceful beginning again. Deth (i'm gonna have to spell it like this so i don't get flagged) in KP is a good thing, Porsche is connected to this with the phoenix he needs Deth to be able to reborn into the queen of the chessboard, so does Vegas who is also his queen of his chessboard, both queens have to become something new for their story to take place and for their loved ones to be protected and happy. There has been so many, like so many foreshadowings for VP with deth and rebirth, I just even got a new one from a fan, but I feel confident for now they are tackling and keeping this with Vegas, we will see him go through some type of deth but they'll hopefully talk or hint at his rebirth too.

As for Build getting slapped. I can see Kinn being betrayed by Pete but a slap feels out of order since Kinn already left Pete and forgot about him. I feel like the show wants KInn to make mistakes but they don't want him hated, they've rewritten him to fit that, so slapping Pete when it could make him look heartless and extra I don't think I believe that but then where else or what other reason would Mile have for slapping Build? So yeah I get your point, Kinn slapping Pete upon him admitting he wants to leave or betrays them seems again cruel, is there a chance Pete may ask for the slap, for a punishment because his head isn't focused on his work? Is there a chance Pete may ask Kinn to do that? Yeah that's what I would lean into more than just cruelly slapping him cause youre butthurt he betrayed you. But like I said I'm uncertain about this statement, however Build did say it and it wasn't an error so Mile must have slapped him and made him realise Pete is a masochist. Even the actor is saying it.

Thanks anon! there's a lot to think about when analysing VegasPete dynamics and boy did the show go all out for it. They have spent so much energy and effort thinking and making these two be filled with depth and symbolisms and things to foreshadow and explain the psyche behind their love story. For that I truly want to trust this team and see what they do with the ending. They are changing the novel's ending so this analysis is not a spoiler, but more just on what the show is giving and it is deth and rebirth with VP. Who will go? who will need to be rebirthed? how will they show it in the story narrative? that's what we have 3 episodes to figure out. Thanks again have a great day <3

[imaginesbymonika]

“Until they discover what a mess I truly am.”

Pairing: Pete Davidson x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of depression, fluff at the end

As a writer for SNL Y/N knew a bunch of famous people, she worked with almost everyone since she had started in 2013. The young woman began writing at the age of 17, being the youngest female writer in Saturday Night Live history. On the one hand, it was super fun, the thrill of working among people such as Seth Meyers or Lorne Michaels filled her with pride. At the same time, it was intimidating and occasionally mentally exhausting. It felt like she frequently had to prove herself to everyone, prove that she was worthy of being a writer for SNL at such a young age. She constantly had to work twice as hard.

The first person that looked at Y/N as an equal writer was John Mulaney. John treated her like an adult and whenever she happened to be in the writers' room with him, he always wanted to hear her ideas and opinions on scripts and previous shows.

He explained that he saw a piece of himself in her, and he knew exactly how tough the first year could be without having at least one friend.

To this day still, Y/N was incredibly grateful for him.

Over the years she had met a lot of writers, some of them grabbing her attention more than others. But at the end of the day, none of them seemed to be 'dateable'. John always wanted to set her up with one of his friends, but she always declined saying he was her friend, not her dating service. Until Y/N met Pete Davidson.

„Sorry, I’m late.“, he announced after entering the writers' room. He sat down on the opposite side of Y/N and flashed her a quick smile, before leaning back in his chair.

„I saw how you stared at Pete this morning.“, John later said as the two left the SNL building. She simply rolled her eyes and turned her head away from her friend, humiliated that her cheeks were burning up.

The very first-time Y/N realized she had developed quite the crush on Pete was after his proposal announcement.

He held up Ariana’s hand, while a huge smile played on his lips: “WE‘RE GETTING MARRIED!“. She could see the little tattoo behind his ear and sighed.

She could feel her heart breaking, but when his eyes met hers, Y/N smiled softly and nodded her head at him. Forming the word „Congrats“ with her lips.

From that moment on, she tried her best to get over him. Dating guys and having one night stands- Y/N did everything to keep Pete of her mind. She hardly saw him, during the time of his engagement, which was a miracle. But after the engagement was canceled, he was around more often. They sometimes made eye contact in the writers' room or at an after-show party. But Y/N kept her distance, knowing that once they would start talking again- her old feelings would resurface.

„Pete asked about you again.“, John explains while handing her a cup of coffee. „Thank you.“. Making her snap out of her thoughts: “Are you alright?“.

She simply nods: “Yeah, I’m fine.“.

„Did you hear what I said? Pete-.“.

„Yeah, I heard you.“, Y/N interrupts him, a bit more cold than she intended. She takes a sip before looking at her old friend apologetic: “John, you know how I feel about Pete- I don’t want to get my hopes up. He’s out there dating these supermodels, I just don’t-“, she pauses for a second: “I just don’t fit into that picture.“.

John, confused and a bit overwhelmed by her words swallows thickly: “Okay, wow. I never expected you to think that little of yourself-.“.

„Pete’s too good for me. Hell, he’s too good for anyone, really.“, she explains: “Let’s not talk about him. Please.”.

„That’s exactly what he said about her.“, Anna, John's wife, exclaims after Y/N left their apartment: “We need to do something about this mess.“.

„I don’t know.“, Pete says, holding a cigarette in his hand: “I mean, it’s not like I don’t find Y/N attractive... she’s really pretty, but I feel like she deserves more- better than this.“. He makes a hand gesture, pointing at himself.

„But Pete-.“.

„Look, I appreciate your concerns but - it’s always the same. I like a girl, we date then she gets to know the real me- like the real me. You know how fucked up I am. She breaks up with me.“, Pete explains: “And I don’t know, I can get it when they’re famous- like Ariana or Kaia...but a normal girl like Y/N? That would probably break my heart.“.

Anna and John exchange a look.

Y/N who walks into her office turns on the lights. One hour earlier she received a weird text message from John saying:

Sorry to text you this late, there’s some trouble at the office considering the sketch for tomorrow. Would be great if you could go there, rehearse it and look it over. Anna and I have our date night, so it would be you with another writer. Thanks. Love you.

„Hello-?“, a voice asks and Y/N lets out a high-pitched scream. She quickly turns around and sees Pete Davidson standing in the door frame.

„Oh my god, Pete.“, she says and runs a hand down her face. She can hear how he chuckles slightly. “You scared the living shit out of me. Don’t ever do that again!“.

„What? Say hello?“, he smiles and Y/N just rolls her eyes in response.

„I guess, it’s just you and me.“, Y/N points out and hopes that John was mentally preparing himself for what’s going to happen the next time they see each other again: “John said there’s some sort of Sketch, waiting here...but I can’t find one.“

„John texted you too?“, Y/N asks and her eyes widen: “Maybe he made a mistake?“.

„Nah, I don’t think so.“.

An awkward silence falls upon the two and after a few seconds Y/N walks over to her computer: “Maybe he sent me the script via E-Mail, let me check.“. Meanwhile, Pete sits down on the little couch and watches her.

„You should get a bigger couch.“, he exclaims and when Y/N looks up from the screen, he smiles at her. It makes her cheek blush and she quickly hides her face beneath the computer.

„Now... how’s life treating you?“, Pete asks and lays down, he stares at the ceiling.

Y/N sighs: “It’s okay, I guess. What about you? I heard you’re currently dating this actress. Kate. How’s that working out?”.

„No.“, he replies: “I’m not, we- well, she broke up with me a month later. I feel like they all think I’m a great guy until they date me and discover what a mess I truly am. Or maybe it’s the fact that Ariana said my dick is huge so- they want to check that out themselves. I don’t know.”.

The young woman stops typing and looks at Pete again, she leans back in her chair: “I hope you know, that’s not true.”.

“How do you know? I never showed you my dick. Or did I? If I-.”.

“Pete, you’re not a mess, you just have some mental health issues. If these women can’t 'handle' you that’s not your problem but theirs. You are a great guy and every girl would be lucky to have you by their side... I can’t seem to find an email, I’ll call John.“.She gets up from her chair and leaves the room: “I’ll get myself a cup of coffee afterward, you want some?.“.

Pete, speechless by her words slowly sits up straight on the couch. He never expected someone to say something so kind about him. He gets up and leaves the room. At the end of the hallway stands Y/N, slightly slapping the coffee machine.

„I can’t reach John, and this stupid machine isn’t working-.“, she says, frustration audible in her voice.

„Did you mean what you just said?“,he asks and Y/N looks up.

She stares at him for a few seconds: “Yeah, why-?“.

„This might sound ridiculous.”, he starts, crosses his arms, and leans against the wall:” But... did John talked to you about asking me out for a date?”.

As soon as the words leave his mouth the color on Y/N’s face disappears. She can feel how her mouth runs dry and her hands start to sweat.

“Because he talked to me about asking you out. And-.”.

“What did you say to him?”.

He wrinkles his forehead:” Of course, I said no.”.

“Oh.”.

Y/N can feel it. She can feel how her heart is breaking in ways she didn’t know were possible. If dying of a broken heart was a real thing, maybe now it would happen to her.

“Of course.”, she repeats his words and scratches her eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean- you wouldn’t date me either. That’s probably what you told John.”, Pete chuckles but stops when he sees Y/N’s facial expression. His eyes widen:” Shit, no.”, he says, almost like a whisper.

Y/N rushes past him into her office before the tears are falling. She didn’t care. Not now.

“Y/N- I...”, he starts but the girl shakes her head.

“Go Home, Pete. I’ll call John and tell him I didn’t find the script.”.

“I just assumed we were on the same page.”, he says, ignoring what she just said:” Like, look at you and look at me- I’m too much of a jerk for someone like you!”.

“Excuse me?“, she replies, her voice growing louder with every second passing: “Since when do you decide what’s best for me?“.

„I don’t want you to get hurt, I’m difficult. Fuck, Y/N, you know that. We’ve been working together for such a long time now. If we would get together, I don’t know if I could survive you thinking the same way these girls think about me now.“.

Y/N sighs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, as if she was trying to protect the last bit of her heart: “You’re right, we shouldn’t get together.“.

„W-what?“.

„Pete.“, she slowly takes his hand, her voice breaking: “You need to work on your mental health, you can’t just jump from one relationship into the next. That’s unhealthy. But... I will help you. I will be there for you until you’re truly ready to date again.“.

A soft smile spreads on his lips: “That sounds good.“, he leans down: “One kiss, though?“.

„Sure.“, she replies:” You can get more than one..”.And when their lips meet, it feels better than she could have ever imagined.

[kingreywrites]

And it all comes undone

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2816

Rapunzel Appreciation Week Day One: Birthday

Summary: For the first time in a very long time, Rapunzel had yelled at someone angrily. Not someone, no; her dad. The King, who wanted to order her to stay behind and hide. Rapunzel had yelled, because she knew that if it was her or Arianna who had been kidnapped, the King wouldn't hesitate - but it was Eugene, and, apparently, he wasn't family enough for him.

Or what if, in Secret of the Sundrop, Varian hadn’t kidnapped the Queen but Eugene?

Note: This doesn’t really fit the prompt for any other reason than taking place during Rapunzel’s birthday, oops :’)

Read on ao3

@s-vnshiine

Lost in the fog, her entire kingdom in danger because of what she did to - or, worse, didn't do for Varian, Rapunzel felt somehow detached from reality. There was… some kind of monster, chasing them and hurting people, and she couldn't determine what it was. People were yelling - yelling orders or yelling for someone or yelling in pain - and her heart was thrumming with anxiety and- and-

If she had helped Varian, none of this would have happened. The guilt was here, an ever-growing monster pressing inside her chest and taking the breath out of her lungs as her hands shook at her sides.

Suddenly, Eugene was behind her, his hand on the small of her back as he pushed her out of the way. He was frowning, trying to take a look at the thing hiding in the fog, but he still took the time to check her over, a small, worried smile on his lips. And just like that, she could breathe again. She- she wished she had helped Varian. She wished she had been there for him during the storm. And maybe if she had gone with him, none of this would have happened, but not because she would have saved his Quirin - because Corona would have been destroyed by the snow, and a lot of her subjects would have died.

In another world where she had helped Varian during the storm, who knew how many other newly orphaned kids would have attacked Corona in his stead, because she had failed as their Princess and let their parents die?

The guilt stayed there, warm inside her heart, but it quieted, becoming less smothering when confronted by logic. She should have done better after the storm, should have helped him then, but she couldn't have changed the initial situation. She… She would try to make things right. She set herself free again, she wouldn't let her dad manipulate and imprison her in a tower again, and she would help Varian, one way or another. But for now, he was a threat, and she needed to act. She couldn't allow herself to be submerged by her feelings.

A sudden movement to her right startled her, though not as much as the sight of her mother, sword in hand in the battlefield, did.

"Mom?" Rapunzel called, a mixture of feelings preventing her for saying more.

"Rapunzel!" Arianna ran to hug her, and even if it wasn't quite the time, Rapunzel melt into her embrace anyway. A growl from the fog made them jump back quickly.

"Mom, what-"

"I wasn't going to hide while my family and subjects risked their lives," she answered, raising her sword with a confident smirk on her lips. Rapunzel laughed, and went at her side, ready to protect her kingdom too.

Once they understood that the creature was playing hide-and-seek with them, it was pretty easy to defeat it - Rapunzel was used to finding a chameleon, big monster here was an easy job. She ordered Pete and Stan to drive it one way, and Eugene and Lance the other, to try and make it fall into her trap. Lance had said something that she couldn't hear over the noise, but the work was done anyway and soon, they had caught the creature, which was none other than Rudigger. Seeing the destruction that was left behind, the wounded still moaning in pain as others helped them to their feet, Rapunzel felt a cold anger building inside of her.

Varian went too far. She might feel guilty about her role in all of this, but it was no excuse for this, no excuse for Varian risking the lives of everyone. She knew she would have to make her mistakes up to him, but for now, and as long as he persisted in this path, he was a threat that needed to be stopped. It all needed to end. And now her dad was telling her that she shouldn't have left her room, and her mom was arguing with him, sword in hand, and Rapunzel only wanted all of this to stop. It was selfish, perhaps, but she was tired of being manipulated and hurt by those she loved on her birthday.

"Princess," Lance interrupted, voice too choked and nervous for her comfort. "Eugene's not here."

She swirled around so quickly she startled him. "What?"

"He- I didn't see him when you told us to distract Rudigger, and I still don't see him now," he explained. Her mind flashed back to his inaudible voice some minutes prior, that she had dismissed so easily. Another mistake. "I- I think someone took him."

It's funny, in a way, how she had wanted everything to stop mere seconds ago, only to regret it when time froze as dread washed over her. She… She hadn't seen Eugene since he had smiled to her earlier, hadn't even heard him and- How could she have not noticed? No matter how focused she was, she should have- she should- Lance shouldn't have had to tell her, because she knew he never would have had to tell Eugene if she disappeared. People were talking around her, but her heart was beating so loudly that she couldn't focus on any of it; couldn't focus on anything else than her guilt, slowly trickling into her growing anger.

Someone took Eugene.

Varian took Eugene.

"I'm getting him back," she growled, her nails biting into her palms as she tightened her fist. The King was already fighting her on it, telling her that it wasn't safe, but she didn't care - she would get Eugene back, one way or another.

One year ago, Eugene had given everything to save her - and Rapunzel was ready to do the same for him today. He was her dream and no guilt, no parents, no kingdom could ever make her give up on him.

------

For the first time in a very long time, Rapunzel had yelled at someone angrily. Not someone, no; her dad. The King, who wanted to order her to stay behind and hide. Rapunzel had yelled, because she knew that if it was her or Arianna who had been kidnapped, the King wouldn't hesitate - but it was Eugene, and, apparently, he wasn't family enough for him.

She bit back the scathing answers on the tip of her tongue, bit back the desire to tell her father that Eugene was more family than anyone else here, bit it all back because that was counterproductive and they didn't have time. Eugene didn't have time.

Finally, they came up with a plan. Rapunzel knew they couldn't impulsively burst into Varian's home, because he was too smart for it to work, but waiting and talking and thinking seemed to take an excruciating time. She didn't want to imagine the worst, didn't think that Varian was the sadistic type - he was, despite everything, a hurting kid that had resorted to anger out of desperation, as hard as it was to remember in this situation. But the fact of the matter was that Eugene was in his clutch. At the very least, he had to be knocked out and restrained, and that mental image only made Rapunzel want to be sick. Imagining Eugene being hurt and helpless, on her birthday… It brought back memories she tried hard everyday to forget.

She was supposed to sneak in accompanied by Lance, who had insisted on helping get Eugene out. Her parents, the guards and Shorty, disguised as her, would offer Varian a distraction while they freed Eugene. They had been proud of this strategy but, not even five minutes in, her and Lance had been captured, feet stuck on the ground by Varian's  weird purple goo.

"Welcome back, Rapunzel," Varian laughed, his eyes hard as he took in her appearance.

It was all so different from their first meeting. The guilt was roaring its ugly head again, because Rapunzel knew that the eager kid she had met back then shouldn't be so bitter and angry today, but her growing fury made it hard to sympathise.

"Varian," she growled, more poised than she thought she could be, "where is Eugene?"

He smirked, condescendance dripping from his voice. "Princess, I know it's hard for you to understand, but you are in no position to demand anything," Varian said, and Rapunzel had to fight the desire to tell him just how much she understood. She had never been allowed to demand anything, never had anyone truly listen to her wishes except-

Except for Eugene. And for him, she would bit her tongue and play Varian's game.

"In the spirit of compromise," Varian singsonged, going towards curtains she hadn't seen before, "how 'bout I meet you halfway?"

Nothing Rapunzel had imagined could compare to seeing Eugene, gagged and hands chained to the wall behind him as he strained against it. She called for him and she could hear him call for her back, his voice muffled by the gag and- and- Was he as horrified as she was right now when he found her again in the tower one year ago? In the split second he had to register the situation, in that split second before being stabbed, did he also feel like the entire world lost its focus except for her eyes, a sick feeling creeping up his throat? His hands were hung low behind his back, forcing him to kneel awkwardly, and she couldn't understand what he was yelling angrily under the gag, but she guessed it was unsavoury. Eugene, forced to be captive and silent was an unnatural sight that she instantly hated, and she only wanted to free him.

Rapunzel felt Lance's arms going around her as she tried to go to Eugene, felt Varian's solution anchoring her to the ground anyway, but she didn't care. She didn't care and she couldn't care, not when the love of her life was helplessly looking at her, fear evident in his gaze.

If Eugene could talk, she would have no doubt that the fear was for her and her alone. But he couldn't - and so, Rapunzel let this image burn itself inside her mind and harden her heart.

"Let him go, Varian," she ordered, but he ignored her.

"I will, but first, I need you to do something for me," he explained lightly.

"What do you want?" Lance intervened, more serious than Rapunzel had ever heard him. His gaze was hard and angry, but she didn't notice, eyes still meeting Eugene's as he strained against his bounds. She knew he hated this - knew the guilt he would feel because he had been used against her, had put her in danger by being captured. She knew he would think that, and that she would fight him on it because it wasn't his fault, but Eugene wouldn't see it the same way. He wouldn't care about what happened to him, but what had nearly happened to her because of him, because he was more self-sacrificing than anyone else.

Well, Rapunzel was too.

"Now you care about what I want," Varian exclaimed, drawing her focus on him again as he grew closer to Eugene. "All it took was threatening the things you love the most."

His hand went to pat Eugene's hair lightly, and he didn't even flinch at the death glare his former idol sent his way. Rapunzel did, though - she did when Eugene turned his gaze towards her again, and begged with everything but his voice that she didn't listen to the kid. Varian was explaining his plan, going on about how her unbreakable hair should be able to shatter the amber, but she was barely listening.

Earlier, she had wondered if Eugene had felt the same horror and fear when he found her bound and gagged in the tower. Now, she wondered if he had felt the same peaceful clarity, as he chose to give up his life and cut her hair so she could be free. She would do anything to keep him safe.

And, seeing how Eugene was fighting even harder to break free, he knew that all too well.

"It's not your choice, Lance," Rapunzel sighed when he said that she wouldn't risk her life for Varian's plan - but she wasn't looking at him, or at Varian for that matter. Only Eugene. His eyes seemed to be shining in the darkness, intense and pleading, but she couldn't listen to him, not this once.

Especially not when Varian poured his solution on the black rocks, to speed things along as he said. Watching the amber growing and Eugene having to scoot back towards the wall, with Quirin's shadow hanging over them all - it only fed Rapunzel's resolve. It's not your choice, and Eugene knew it, and was fighting his manacles so hard as she let down her hair that she worried he would dislocate a shoulder.

She wouldn't let him die near her birthday again. She wouldn't let him die nearly one year after he made the ultimate sacrifice for her - she had always been ready to do the same for him. Rapunzel wouldn't let Eugene die because she loved him, more than he would ever know.

Varian started his machine, and her entire body hurt. Eugene's screaming got louder behind his gag, but she could barely hear him, her entire body vibrating with pain. Her head felt like it would explode, pain pulsing behind her eyes as she fell to her knees painfully, trying and failing to be quiet. It hurt. It hurt, and Varian said it could shatter her but she was doing it for Eugene, she-

"Rapunzel!" Eugene yelled, pure panic in his voice - he had managed to get the gag off with his frantic movements. "Sunshine!"

She raised her head, mind cloudy with pain, and there he was, looking more scared than she had ever seen him. More scared than when he had decided to give his life for her - and she understood, really, because despite everything, she wasn't as terrified as when Eugene died for her. She didn't care about the pain, not when it could save him.

"Varian, please," Eugene begged, tugging on his bound arms again, "you're hurting her!"

She tried to say that she was okay, like he did when he was the one bleeding out in her childhood home, but she was too breathless to do it. Varian was talking but she couldn't make sense of his words, couldn't make sense of anything but the pain in her bones growing and growing and growing. Then, everything stopped. Her heart was still fluttering in her chest, her entire body still felt numb, but her hair stopped glowing and the pain reduced to aches. She didn't see Lance move after Pascal helped him; didn't see him raise his sword and break Eugene's free, didn't see Eugene run across the room.

But she certainly heard him when he called her name desperately, and she certainly felt him when his hands cupped her cheeks how so softly. His eyes were wildly checking her over, a little damp, and his wrist were red from the chaffing but, overall, he seemed okay - and the weight in Rapunzel's chest lifted with this realisation.

"Sunshine," Eugene breathed, something akin to tears in his voice, "I'm so sorry, I- Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," she murmured, and it wasn't a lie - Eugene was fine. Eugene was safe, and touching her, and now he was hugging her, his embrace warm and tight as they both trembled. She was okay, because he was too.

And when they had to stop Varian - when she had to rescue Cassandra and her mother, when she chose to face her destiny and grab the black rocks, Rapunzel wasn't afraid. She was thinking about her kingdom, her friends and family, Eugene, and she knew exactly what she had to do. She wasn't afraid of pain, if it was to save them.

Eugene had been scared, however. She could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, feel it in his shaky hands. She kissed him, to try and tell him that she was fine, but even when he softened, she could see that his anxiety hadn't completely left him. They would both need to heal from this.

"We have got to find better ways to spend your birthday," he laughed, eyes wet, and she could only smile sadly. A birthday where none of them were chained up or risked their lives sounded good, that was for sure.

However, seeing the new path drawn in front of her by the black rocks, Rapunzel wasn't certain they would have a peaceful birthday for quite some time. But, a long as they were fine - as long as Eugene held her hand tightly in his like he was doing now, as long as she knew he was safe and sound - Rapunzel knew it would be okay.

[love-sapphirerose]

Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon Episode 19

https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/yashahime-princess-half-demon/episode-19/.169235

Similar to the last time Yashahime gave Moroha something substantial to do, the insidious stupidity of “Princess Aya's Beniyasha Hunting” can only be truly appreciated if I just describe the events of the story in chronological order. Given the crummy vives that the preview gave off, I don't think anyone was expecting much more than a cheap detour from this episode, but I'll be damned of this series doesn't continue to impress with how little of a shit it gives about being good, or even mediocre, or hell, even functional. And before we dig into this post-mortem, I'd like to field any defenses that people might make about Yashahime being meant more for kids, and thus shouldn't be taken seriously. For one, this is a decades-in-the-making sequel to one of the most popular anime ever, so don't act like the show shouldn't have something to offer for fans whose ages can be counted with more than one digit. Also, y'all know that crappy kids' entertainment still sucks, right? It doesn't just get a free pass for being made with younger viewers in mind. Nobody in their right mind is going to argue that stuff like Avatar the Last Airbender or Steven Universe should be judged at the same level as Caillou, for Pete's sake.

Anyway, “Princess Aiya's Beniyasha Hunting” commits the gravest sin that any work of art can commit, in that it is a completely pointless waste of time that takes the precious minutes of existence that its viewers have been afforded on this earth and just flushes them straight down the toilet. I, dear reader, respect your lives much more than Yashahime ever will, so I'm going to dispense with the “twists” and lay it all out in order: Way back in Episode 1/7, when the girls busted into Hiiragi Dango's place to rescue Towa, they brushed by his daughter, Aya, and got a speck of mud on her kimono. Being a literal psychopath, young Aya then hatched an elaborate scheme to trick the girls and get her revenge: She recruited a band of mercenaries and forced Jyubei to sell Moroha's services as well, and then she established the false pretext of recruiting demon slayers to her father's employment to lure Hisui and his two nameless buddies into fighting the mercs in a big, competitive battle.

These mercenaries are cartoonish morons, and one of them, Lady, is a pretty offensive homophobic/transphobic/maybe-even-racist stereotype, but in one of this episode's few saving graces, it's actually hard to get all that mad about it, because these goofs are pointless and don't really do anything. They spend all night building a wooden façade of a castle on the battlefield for…some reason, and then they all sort of disappear once the firebombs start dropping. No, the demon slayers know that Moroha is the only one that really needs to be taken seriously as a threat, so they recruit Setsuna to aid them, leading to a cousin-vs-cousin showdown for the ages!

Except that obviously isn't what happens, because even though Setsuna and Hisui suck, they're not awful enough to be completely on board with burning InuYasha's kid alive in the middle of a field for the sake of some half-cocked job interview. No, we eventually learn that Moroha and the slayers were in cahoots all along, since they figured they could throw the fight and earn enough cash from the not-actually-real job offer for everyone to profit. Sure, the slayers apparently didn't even tell Moroha about the very real volley of firebombs they'd be tossing her way, but who's keeping track of neglectful homicide attempts amongst friends and family, eh?

It's that throughline of “not telling your teammates the most basic and necessary information” that really sinks this episode, which was already a bummer to begin with. Nevermind Hisui and Setsuna almost turning Moroha into barbecue; the big dramatic turn of the story occurs when Setsuna and Moroha both agree to not tell Towa about the fixed battle because…she's a bad liar, I guess? Except Moroha is the one that lets slip about the battle in the first place, and I don't know why anyone would assume that keeping Towa in the dark would be easier than just explaining that the fight is rigged, nobody is getting hurt, and so on. Even if you bought that silly excuse, the episode still doesn't make any goddamned sense, because once Towa predictably gets mixed up in the fight anyways and mistakes Setsuna's “acting” for real aggression, nobody bothers to just explain what's going on then, either! The episode establishes that Aya can't hear anything they say from her little tower, so why keep up the charade? And how is any of this easier than one of the girls just telling Towa, “Hey, we're going to scam the spoiled daughter of that guy who kidnapped you out of some money by faking a battle. If you want in, cool, but if you can't keep up the ruse, just, like, hang out here this afternoon or something. We'll be back in a few hours, tops.”

It's just so unbelievably lame, and it's the kind of plot that is doubly frustrating because it depends entirely on characters withholding important information for no reason other than to cheaply manufacture some consequence-free drama. Also, remember how the whole setup for the battle was a lie, anyways? Yeah, Kohaku shows up out of nowhere to explain to Aya that he knew the whole thing was a waste of time, except he didn't tell his own crew of demon slayers this because…he wanted them to learn a lesson?

To recap: Aya, a character we've never met, goes to insane lengths to deceive Hisui, a cardboard cutout that we do not care about, in order to double deceive (and possibly kill) Moroha, all on account of that one time she got some dirt on Aya's clothes. Then, Moroha, Setsuna, and Hisui attempt to trick Aya, which ends up being a waste of time since they already fell for Aya's initial trick, and there's a bunch of needless drama with Towa because everyone made a conscious decision to also trick her, even though she probably would have been able to allow the secretly useless and entirely overcomplicated ruse-within-a-ruse to go off without a hitch, if only she had she known what was happening in the first place. Takechiyo even gets in on the action by tricking Towa into thinking Moroha got horribly murdered in her arms. Why? Who the hell knows! Maybe it's because Takechiyo just gets off on psychologically abusing teenaged girls. I'd buy it. Just look at the little creep.

Throw in some harmful stereotypes and a hilariously clunky last-minute scene where Towa gets all tearful over Moroha's safety – despite definitely not giving a crap all those times that Moroha was in actual danger – and there you have it: “Princess Aya's Beniyasha Hunting.” No, Moroha does not transform into Beniyasha. Yes, I'm just as mad about all of this as you are. The only reason this episode is getting a two-star rating is because there's a funny bit where Moroha plays along with the bounty hunters' silly entrance-theme bit. I'm giving it one extra start for making me laugh exactly once. That might be damning Yashahime with faint praise, but with nineteen episodes down and only a handful to go, I'm afraid that faint praise is just about the only good thing Yashahime can hope to earn at this point.

[naazaif327]

I’ve been thinking about the one-on-one sequence in the TUC finale, and God, each of the PCs have such perfectly in-character reactions

Ricky’s reaction seems fun and silly at first, talking about the exact kind of gear his dream home gym would have, but when it comes down to it, he see the truth even before Rowan, or Pete, or even Kingston. It’s not that the world is at stake, though it is, or that The American Dream is lying to him, though he is. Ricky states the truth immediately: this dream isn’t just about an individual, it shouldn’t definitively come true for just one person, it should have the potential to come true for anybody. And despite not being the smartest, Ricky understands these basic, true facts of love and empathy faster than anyone else.

Sophia is who she’s always been. Emily, playing her, is almost in tears as the visions of Dale are described, and I picture Sophia the same way, feeling the full brunt of the pain and loss of her husband, seeing him for a little bit, before being pulled away once again. She smiles sadly, and when the vision ends, when the dreams are done and she’s back to reality, she cracks a funny joke, digs her heels into the ground, and continues to fight. Because she is what she is, and she knows what she has to do. There’s no time to wonder what if, to dream of a happier life. Despite the pain, despite the loss, she’ll do her duty.

Kugrash sees through the dreams because he knows it can never be true, he doesn’t want them to be true because he didn’t earn them. He destroyed his relationship with his family, and maybe they’ll forgive him and maybe they won’t. But it’ll never be something he forces upon them. He doesn’t fully understand that its specifically Robert’s version of the AD, but he can see into its heart, and he see a shriveled up lump of greed. He knows exactly what he’s dealing with, because he used to be the AD. And he doesn’t empathize with it, but truly, deep within himself, he pities it. And he looks around at his friends fighting for their lives, he thinks of all the people he’s hurt, and all the people he’s saved, the homeless, the unloved that he sheltered, and he does the only thing there is left to do.

Rowan, truly, has nothing but love for the American Dream in her heart. It’s not some shapeless fondness or amicability. More than her lovers, more than the entirety of Faerie, more than her Queen, more, even, than her new friends, she loves the American Dream. She loves the choice, the glamour, the love and the strength, the theatre, the romance. It is everything to her. She gave up her life to serve it, She may be a bard, but really, she’s more like a Warlock or a Cleric. She loves the American Dream, she draws her power from it, but more than that, it embodies everything she’s ever wanted to be, and to see in the world. She, more than any of the rest, sees how twisted and wrong its form is, and she sympathizes with it more deeply than anyone else ever could. She doesn’t reject or accept its offer, she begs for it to return to its natural being as the culmination of everyone’s choices to make the world as it is.

Kingston Brown is tired. He doesn’t really understand the being in front of him much, what it wants, whether its good or bad, how it feels. All he wants is to keep his friends and his city safe. He has sacrificed for others his entire life. That’s not a single choice. Over and over and over he made the choice to help other people, often to the detriment of himself. He has given most of himself, in little pieces, to everybody else, and what remains of him stands by those choices. The vision he is shown is painful to watch, but its fake. 10 out of 10 times, he would never have chosen that life. He’s lived his life, and fought his battles, and it hurts, and he’s tired, but he’ll keep fighting, keep giving, and keep loving, down to his last breath. 

Pete sees it all. He sees the bargains and the visions and the sacrifices. He sees each of his friends reject what was offered. He understands. When the dream finally turns to him, it’s like coming home, in a way. Its always been leading to this. Pete’s power, his magic, has stemmed from the chaos, the lack of laws and orders, of boundaries and binaries within his life. The dream comes to him, wanting to be one thing. begging to exist in a singular, binding form. And Pete smiles, and says “reveal yourself to me”. Because of course this isn’t the American Dream. Dreams are fluid and everchanging, as is Pete. He knew he was a guy, but outside of that, his whole life has been a series of changes and randomness. This is essence of dreams, of imagination, of love. It has the potential to be anything, absolutely anything, it frees you from your body, from being stuck with the choices and the history and the mistakes. It is NOT what it is. and Pete sees that with one last perfect Natural 20.

[missperfectlyfine13]

A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole (Chp. 3/?)

Read Below or on AO3/FF 

“Where are you headed? Is Jake coming home this year?” Aubrey’s voice makes Chloe’s head snap up from her suitcase.

She looks over at the confused blonde standing in her doorway. Ok, so she hasn’t told Aubrey that she’s going to Beca’s for Christmas. Something tells her that she would take offense to it, especially with Aubrey’s strong dislike for the freshman girl.

“Nope,” Chloe chirps, stuffing a pile of pajamas into the half empty suitcase.

Aubrey trails farther into the room, taking a seat on the edge of Chloe’s bed, “So where are you going then?”

Chloe swallows nervously, “Um, I’m going to Beca’s for Christmas.”

“Seriously?” there’s a serious sour bite to Aubrey’s tone, one that already has Chloe’s stomach churning, “You know you don’t have to go home with that scraggly little alt girl…you’re always welcome to come home with me.”

“I know, I thought it would be nice…and she offered,” Chloe mumbles, turning her attention back to her packing.

Chloe also hasn’t been very up front with Aubrey about how close her and Beca have become. She’s just tried to keep the peace this year with the way her best friend has been acting.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” Aubrey snaps, “You’ve said no to my offer for the last two years.”

Chloe just shrugs, because honestly, she’s not sure herself.

“Do you like her or something?”

Chloe knows that she’s just trying to figure it out, but she can’t help feeling like this is somewhat of an interrogation. She’s not sure how to respond to the question, so she stays silent, pursing her lips in a way that means ‘I’m done talking’.

Aubrey nods knowingly, her own little frown visible, “She’s with Jesse, you know that right? She’s straight Chloe.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Chloe mumbles in defeat.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt…ok?” Aubrey sighs.

“I won’t…I’m going as her friend and nothing more,” Chloe finally zips her very full suitcase up and stands from the floor.

Aubrey looks at her with softer eyes now, “Chlo, I know you. This is probably more harmful than it is helpful.”

“It’s just a stupid crush Bree, I can move past it,” Chloe doesn’t know why she’s defending herself so vehemently.

“Ok, I get it. Just be careful,” the blonde gives her a small smile before standing up and heading out of the room.

Maybe this is a mistake. Chloe knows what is happening. Every time she’s around Beca she feels herself falling just a little more. It’s a very slippery slope she’s on right now, one that ends up with a broken heart. Why is it that she can never help herself though?

************

Surprisingly, Beca talks off Chloe’s ear for a good majority of their flight to Seattle. Chloe had assumed she would put her headphones on and promptly fall asleep. Maybe she’s just as excited as Chloe is…although right now she’s more nervous than anything.

“So, tell me again who’s going to be there…so I don’t mess names up?” it’s probably the fifth time she’s asked it on this flight alone.

Beca chuckles, “Chlo, you don’t have to worry, I’ll introduce you when we get there.”

Chloe’s sparkling blue eyes bore into Beca’s, she hopes she’s getting the message across, “Beca just tell me.”

“Ok fine weirdo,” Beca scoots around so her left shoulder is against the seat and she’s facing Chloe, “my mom, Janette; my step-dad, Peter; and my two brothers, Lucas and Ethan. Lucas is my full brother, he’s 15. Ethan is my half-brother and he is 4. On Christmas day, my grandma and grandpa will be there, as well as my Aunt and Uncle and their families, but I’ll introduce them to you later.”

Chloe shuffles in her seat anxiously, “Ok cool, I’m excited to meet everyone.”

“You don’t have to freak Chlo, they’re super chill and they’re excited you’re coming,” Beca reads her emotions like an open book.

Chloe sighs looking up at the ceiling of the airplane, “You know, sometimes I feel so lost…I just feel like I don’t belong anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” she can feel Beca’s eyes on her still, “but for what it’s worth, you have me. I know I’m not much, but it’s something, right?”

She knows it’s not how Beca means it, but the statement makes butterflies erupt inside her, “Hey don’t think you’re nothing, I’m so grateful I have you.”

Shortly after their conversation, Chloe falls asleep, her head resting gently against Beca’s shoulder. She finally wakes up to Beca shaking her, telling her they’ve landed in Denver for their connecting flight. They walk sleepily through the airport, and before Chloe knows it they’re back on a plane. They both settle in quickly and Chloe is asleep again, dreaming of a warm fire, mistletoe and Beca’s lips against hers…

************

When they step out of the airport in Seattle, Chloe’s eyes turn into saucers when she sees the white on the ground and the sparkling little flakes falling from the sky. Beca looks at her in amusement as she skips out into the snow, spinning around in a circle.

“Bec isn’t it pretty!” Chloe feels so carefree and happy in the moment, holding out her hand to catch a few flakes, which immediately melt against her skin.

Beca walks out past the overhang to join her, snowflakes immediately clinging to the fabric of her beanie and hair, her cheeks turning red in the chilly air. Chloe can’t help thinking that she looks beautiful.

“It’s alright I guess,” Beca smirks, “I can tell you’re from the south Beale.”

“Beca!” both girls immediately turn their attention to the voice.

A few feet away is a moderately sized blue SUV, a man who looks to be in his late forties stands next to it waving. It must be Peter, Beca’s step-dad. Both girls quickly grab their abandoned suitcases and walk over to the car. Peter looks like a genuine guy, someone that would give you the shirt off his back. He’s smiling at the two girls like he’s been waiting all month to see them.

“Hey Pete, how’s life?” Beca says casually and she throws her bag into the open and waiting trunk.

“Can’t complain, and this must be Chloe,” the man turns to look at Chloe, he’s grinning warmly, he’s got wrinkles by his eyes and a dark bushy beard.

“Yup,” Beca replies, making a popping noise on the “p” of the word.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Chloe chirps pleasantly.

“Nice to meet you too Chloe, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Peter motions to the back seat of the car, “why don’t you two sit in the back, I don’t mind being the driver,” he winks at the two.

Beca and Chloe quickly climb into the back seat of the car and they start down the road. Chloe watches the snow fall as they drive. They get on the highway; she can tell they are heading out of the city. She vaguely recalls Beca saying she lives in a smaller town just outside Seattle itself.

After about 30 minutes of driving, they are pulling up to a cozy looking two story house. Chloe would bet money on it being perfectly decorated on the inside, maybe it even smells like cinnamon or evergreen.

“Alright, here we are, home sweet home,” Pete gestures at the home as he parks the car in front of the garage.

As they step inside, Chloe’s suspicions are quickly proved correct. Off to the right of the entry way, she can see the living room, where a large tree is perfectly decorated. There is garland wrapped around the railing going upstairs and little signs and decorations everywhere…and it does smell like cinnamon.

“Come on, lets take our stuff upstairs before the ambush,” Beca nods her head to the stairs.

Chloe follows Beca closely up the stairs and down the hall. They walk to the end of the hall and Beca pushes open a door she assumes is her room. As they walk in, Chloe drinks in her surroundings carefully. The walls are covered in posters, most of them being about music. There are fairy lights hanging around the top of the ceiling. In the corner there is a fancy looking computer set up. The first thing Beca does is open up her bags containing her music equipment, which she promptly hooks up to the computer.

Chloe gingerly sets her bag down in the corner and takes a seat on the edge of the double bed in the middle of the room.

After Beca has successfully plugged in her equipment she turns around to look at Chloe, almost apologetically, “So, there isn’t really anywhere else for you to sleep but in here…I hope that’s ok. You can share the bed with me or I can get the air mattress down from the attic.”

Chloe tingles with excitement thinking about sleeping next to the brunette, “Oh that’s totes ok. I don’t mind sharing with you, the mattress would probably take up a lot of space in here anyways.”

“Awesome,” Beca looks relieved that Chloe is ok with the sleeping arrangements.

After both girls get settled, they head back downstairs. Unsurprisingly, her entire family is waiting in the living room when they enter. Her mom lights up at the sight of Beca, her brother Lucas gives Chloe a weird look. Little four-year-old Ethan looks like he could care less.

“Beca!” her mom stands up and throws her arms around her eldest child.

Beca grumbles and doesn’t even attempt to wrap her arms around her mom, “You’re squeezing the life out of me.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic,” her mom chuckles, pulling away to look over at Chloe.

“And you must be Chloe,” her mom walks over and promptly pulls Chloe into a hug.

After she recovers from the shock, she does hug back.

“I’m so glad you could come,” her mom pulls away from the hug, she says it so genuinely that Chloe truly believes she’s excited that a strange girl has invaded their family holiday, “Lucas, come say hi to your sister and Chloe.”

Lucas stands up slowly, very much fitting the angsty teenager profile. He looks so much like Beca that Chloe swears they could be twins if it wasn’t for the four-year age difference.

“Sup Bec,” he nods at his sister, then raises his eyebrow at Chloe, “so are you my sister’s girlfriend?”

If Chloe has been eating or drinking anything it would be sprayed all over the fifteen-year-old. Beca emits a quiet squeaking noise, the tips of her ears turning red.

“Lucas, you know Beca is dating Jesse, remember we told you?” Beca’s mom steps in before either of the two have to answer.

“Oh yea, I forgot about that,” Lucas stalks back to his spot on the sofa, sliding his earbuds back in his ears as he goes.

They talk to Beca’s family for a little bit, but Chloe is barely focused enough to answer their questions. Most of the time she ends up needing them to repeat themselves. She plays it off as jet lag. Truthfully, her mind is spinning with the probability that Beca is not as straight as her or Aubrey thought. Her brother wouldn’t have asked about a girlfriend if she was completely straight.

************

Beca looks nervous as she shuts the door behind them. Chloe sits down on the bed and watches as Beca paces back and forth a few times before settling down next to the red head. Beca had seemed a little anxious all night, so Chloe was glad when it was late enough for them to head upstairs for bed.

“So after all that I have a little bit of explaining to do,” Beca plays with her hands that are sitting her lap, “you know how my brother asked if you were my girlfriend?”

Chloe nods anxiously, trying to cover up how excited she really is.

“Just to clarify, I dated girls in high school…he was so used to seeing me with girls, he just assumed I guess…I’m bi,” Beca stammers nervously.

Chloe nods knowingly, “I kind of assumed so after he said that.”

“You’re not weirded out…like weird about sleeping in the same bed as me, are you?” Beca looks genuinely concerned and it almost breaks her heart.

She shakes her head stiffly, “Of course not. Beca…you aren’t a predator, you just like girls. You aren’t going to feel me up in my sleep…unless you wanted to of course,” she throws the brunette a wink, successfully turning her face red.

“Ok good,” Beca rubs the back of her neck, “I just dealt with a lot of judgement from the girls in high school, I forget that most people are pretty chill.”

“I would never judge you Bec, it would be pretty damn hypocritical,” Chloe flashes her a soft, comforting smile, “I’m not as straight as you think.”

“Really?” Beca looks genuinely surprised at the admission.

“I’ve never officially dated a girl, but I’ve thought about it…I’ve fooled around with girls,” Chloe isn’t afraid to admit the fact, she never has been.

The information seems to floor Beca a little, only a high pitched, “Oh, ok,” manages to escape.

“Thank you for sharing with me Bec,” Chloe reaches her hand out to lay it softly over Beca’s, “thank you again for all of this, for inviting me here.”

“Anytime Chlo,” it looks like she’s going to say more but instead yawns loudly.

Chloe is yawning right after her and she suddenly realizes how heavy her limbs feel, and how soft the bed beneath her is, “Maybe we should get some sleep, it was a long day.”

Beca nods in agreement, “I’m all for that.”

************

Chloe wakes up earlier than she’d like the next morning. The sun is barely peaking through the blinds and Beca is softly snoring next to her. Her eyelids are heavy, like she could fall back asleep if she wanted, but something…well more someone, prevents her from doing so.

Beca ended up turning around in her sleep, so her face is lined up with Chloe’s. She slid impossibly close to her bedmate, not on purpose, but Chloe can practically feel her warm breath on her face. The proximity of the younger girl makes Chloe’s heart hammer in her chest. Her hair is practically on top of her head, wild from sleep, Chloe thinks it’s adorable. She takes the time to study Beca’s face, she ends up staring at the soft lines and plumpness of her lips, wishing she could lean forward and softly peck them.

Maybe Aubrey was right…maybe this trip is more harm than it is good. She does know that Beca isn’t straight now, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still with Jesse. Chloe has to respect that, as much as she’d like to shoot her shot with the freshman girl.

She’s not sure how long she watches Beca, but the sun is finally pouring through the cracks of the blinds when Beca finally starts stirring. Chloe snaps her eyes shut, not wanting to get caught staring. She hears Beca groan and feels the bed shift next to her, so she slowly lets her eyes flutter back open.

“Mm, good morning,” Beca yawns sleepily when Chloe’s eyes are completely open.

“Morning,” Chloe replies, her voice still surprisingly gravely from sleep.

“You sleep ok?” Beca asks as she rolls onto her back.

Chloe slowly sits up, the warm cocoon of blankets falling down past her torso, “Yea, definitely, how about you?”

Beca stretches lazily, her legs popping out from under the covers and her arms raising above her head, “Slept great. I’m ready for a day of fun!”

“You have something good planned?” Chloe asks excitedly.

“Well, since it snowed quite a bit yesterday…I thought we could go sledding, then maybe head into the city for a while?” Beca asks, more then tells, clearly wanting Chloe to be on board with her plans.

“Sounds great Bec,” Chloe is already beaming thinking about sledding, she’s only ever done it once before and she barely remembers.

“Cool,” Beca smiles right back at her.

If Chloe’s being honest, she doesn’t care what they do, as long as it’s with Beca. Shit, she really is screwed…

[jeranasblog]

Don’t let him take what’s yours, Daddy

Summary: Pierce takes Peter.

Rating: E

Notes: This story is my 14th @starkercestevent​ contribution and it’s necessary to read the other parts first. Kink for the 14th story: Free Space (Voyeurism). Click here for the Bingo Masterlist.

Warnings: Adoptive Father/Adoptive Son, don’t like it, don’t read it

No rape, but sexual harassment and non-con, so I’m going to cut the post here. Check out Ao3 for further tags

Read on Ao3

Peter was kneeling on the floor of the limousine while one of Pierce’s men, the elevator Alpha, tied the Omega’s hands behind his back. It hurt, the ropes were cutting in his wrists, but Peter gritted his teeth in an attempt to stay silent. He didn’t want to show them his weakness. 

 Rationally, Peter knew everything was a question of time. Although Pierce was probably filthily rich, Tony Stark was even richer. He had more resources, especially access to tech, and by now, Steve and Bucky had very likely told Tony already that Peter was kidnapped. Pierce hadn’t even asked Peter for his phone, the first mistake, and his Daddy could track it in less than a second. 

 However, nothing of this would matter if Pierce would be fast enough to bond Peter to him. Even if Tony would free him after, even if he would kill the Senator, a bonded Omega could never bond with another Alpha again. Peter would always feel the bond to another man like a slight prickling in the back of his mind and he would rather die than lose what he had with his Daddy. Once Pierce would bond him, it would be too late. 

 Therefore, Peter knew he had to do everything to drag out Pierce’s plan. Although his mind screamed at him to fight, to struggle against his restraints, and to insult the Senator and his scumbag gang, the Omega remained quiet. He focused on his breathing, trying to be clear-headed enough to play out his chances. 

 “Do you want me to tell you what I’m going to do to you, stupid Omega?” Pierce laughed derisively and Peter had to suppress a shiver. No, he didn’t want to know what the Senator had planned, he just wanted to close his eyes and realize that it was a dream, but at the same time, he knew Pierce telling him about his plan could be an advantage. It was the typical villain mistake, explaining everything to the victim and giving them time to think. Still, Pete couldn’t force himself to do more than nod. 

 “When we arrive, I’ll make you regret not coming to me on your own first,” Pierce smirked disgustingly, and immediately, Peter felt sick. Although the Senator sounded a little smug, his voice was mostly neutral, and his deadpan way of telling Peter the plan was even worse. “Then I’ll force you on my knot and bond you, stupid thing you are. Even if your Daddy finds me, he can’t take you away because you would be miserable without me after we’ve bonded, wouldn’t you? It would be only us. No suppressants, no toys, only me, you, and your upcoming heat.” 

 No! Everything but a heat. Peter knew he would beg for Pierce during a heat once they were bonded and he would rather die than be desperate for a rapist, or even worse, giving pups to Pierce. Everything inside of him convulsed, his stomach churned, and his heart sped up. He was afraid he would throw up in the middle of the car, right on Pierce’s feet and even though the thought of vomit on Pierce’s suit wasn’t unappealing, the consequences certainly were. 

 Unlucky as he was, Peter had apparently failed in keeping his face blank and for a second, Pierce had seen horror in his eyes. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Once I’ve buried my teeth in your neck, you’ll like the thought.”

 Don’t call me sweetheart. Peter wanted to cry and rampage, wanted to scream at the Senator’s face that the right to call the Omega ‘sweetheart’ belonged to his Daddy, and his Daddy alone. It took his entire self-control for Peter to remain quiet. Mouthing off would only make things worse. 

 “Where are you taking me?” Peter could proudly say that his voice waivered only a little. Information was always good, wasn’t it? If he knew where Pierce was taking him, he might come up with a plan to delay the bite. 

 The Senator looked out of the window and chuckled slightly. “Oh, stupid thing, we’re almost there. I’m obviously taking you to my nest.” At the same moment, the car came to a stop and Peter realized to his horror that Pierce had brought him to his house. He had hoped for an old factory building or an empty office, someplace where Pierce’s disgusting Alpha scent wasn’t overwhelming, but the Senator probably knew every inch of the house, making it even harder for Peter to escape. 

 “Get off, little one,” Pierce smiled brightly, and Peter flinched under the endearment. His wrists were still bound behind his back, so he scrambled to his knees, struggling to keep his balance. Just as he tried to step out of the limousine, Pierce shoved him a little and the Omega tripped until he was lying face-first on the ground, his skirt slipped up. 

 It hurt, small stones were pricking in his skin and Peter could feel himself tearing up. His face hurt, his legs hurt, and his arms hurt even more, but nothing was as bad as the feeling in his chest. He tried his best to stay calm, tried his best to fight the panic and concentrate on his breathing, but the closer they got to Pierce’s destination, the more fear Peter was feeling. It was obvious that the ride had been a warmup, the Senator hadn’t even touched him yet, and as soon as the door would close behind them, Peter would have to fight for every minute. 

 “As much as I like the view, I want you to stand up, whore,” the playful undertone in Pierce’s voice made Peter shiver in disgust. “We don’t have all day.”

 Three seconds. That was the time Peter took before he made attempts to get up, afraid to anger Pierce even further. Suddenly he regretted wearing the skirt today. He felt naked underneath, the scent of his slick still lingering, and when he closed his eyes for a second, he saw everything Pierce could do to him today. Humiliate him, torture him, bite him, or even worse. Every instinct screamed to cover himself, but he had no choice but to suck it up and do exactly what Pierce told him to do.

 Peter’s legs trembled when he was finally standing again, even though he did his best to hide the fear. The Senator still smiled disgustingly sweet, even broader after he had shoved Peter on the ground, and suddenly, the Omega could feel a firm hand in his neck that led him towards the door. His entire body tensed, the gesture usually used to calm Omega’s down, but Peter couldn’t afford to relax and become careless. 

 “Take your time and get familiar with the house,” Pierce smirked after he had opened the door. “You’ll spend your entire life here, preferable on your knees. When you’re good, I might even buy a carpet for you to kneel on.”

 The sick feeling in Peter’s stomach intensified. The house was exactly how he had imagined. Dark and cold, decorated with marble and stone, and he couldn’t bear the thought of living here forever. Pierce was a sick bastard, a bastard who belonged in jail, and Peter would fight for his life before he would accept the bite from the Senator. Pierce had promised he would make Peter regret his resistance first. Maybe that would buy his Daddy time to save him?

 Pierce led him to the living room, the hand still clutching Peter’s neck and the Omega shuddered in disgust. He didn’t want to be touched but struggling would only provoke the Senator. He closed his eyes, begging this would be over soon while he tried to grasp the hem of his skirt behind his back and pull him down. Pierce left him standing in the middle of the living room and fetched himself a glass of whiskey before he sat down in an armchair, his legs spread. 

 “Keel, whore.” Peter bit his lips and didn’t move an inch. He knew it was stupid, but he wouldn’t give his submission to this monster without a fight.

 “I said, KNEEL, Omega.” Pierce used his Alpha voice, and even though Peter wanted nothing more than to ignore the bastard, his legs gave in on their own, forcing Peter to sink to his knees. Peter could feel how a single tear ran down his cheek, but he suppressed every other attempt of his panic to rise to the surface. 

 Pierce smirked “How pathetic Omegas are. I can see you’d rather die than kneel in front of me, but one word was still enough to bend your will.” Peter didn’t answer, couldn’t answer because everything was true. Yes, he loved to be submissive for his Daddy, loved to listen to his commands, but being forced to obey Pierce was making him sick. Omega biology was a blessing and a curse.

 “Crawl to me,” Pierce didn’t even bother to play his games anymore, he was immediately using the voice to humiliate Peter even further. 

 The Omega’s knees hurt on the cold floor, his entire body was trembling while he tried to crawl closer with his hands tied behind his back. He had dreamed about a similar situation, himself shaking with lust while his Daddy asked him to crawl closer with his hands tied behind his back, but Pierce was destroying the fantasy in a heartbeat. Peter knew he had to drag it out a little longer, his Daddy needed time to find him, so he crawled as slowly as he could while he fought the urge to throw up.

 “I can’t believe how lucky I am,” the Senator snarled. “Only dressed in a tiny little thong.” Peter whimpered, he hadn’t even realized that his skirt had ridden up, revealing the tiny little thing he had put on for his Daddy. He could feel Pierce’s eyes fixed on his exposed ass, and there was nothing he could do, nothing but crawl as slowly as possible. But even then, he had to stop in front of Pierce sometime. 

 Peter sat back on his heels, the skirt slipping back down until he was at least a little covered. He was looking everywhere except Pierce, his eyes burning holes in the floor to avoid seeing the monster smirk.

 “Oh, today’s truly a lucky day. Not only are you already dressed like a little whore, ready to be knotted, I can also smell your slick? Tell me, sweetheart. Didn’t Daddy have enough time to satisfy your needs? I don’t smell Alpha seed. But don’t worry, I’ll give you everything your Alpha is lacking in.”

 “Don’t talk about him like that.” Peter already knew it was a mistake when he opened his mouth, but he couldn’t stand Pierce talking about his Daddy like this. His Alpha was amazing, caring, and perfect in bed, everything the Omega needed, everything Pierce could never be. “Tony is a million times better than you. A better Alpha, a better man, and he doesn’t have to rape Omega’s to bed them.”

 The last sentence had probably been a mistake because he could see Pierce’s expression shift. Arrogance was replaced by furious anger and before Peter could react, he heard a loud smack. It took him a few seconds to realize what had happened. His left cheek burned, probably branded with a red handprint. Tears were welling in his eyes and Peter tried his best to blink them away. The impact of the blow made him stagger and he fought to keep his balance with his hands tied behind his back. 

 “Shut your dirty mouth, whore,” Pierce spat at him and Peter could feel drops of spit landing on his face. His entire body was buzzing with adrenaline and he wasn’t even sure if he was scared, angry, or just hurt. Peter desperately wanted to close his eyes and wish himself far, far away. 

 “I should cut out your tongue,” Pierce threatened and leaned forward to grab the hem of Peter’s skirt. The Omega knew it was over now, he had provoked Pierce too much and there was no way for him to stop what was about to happen. The sound of the ripping fabric of his skirt was loud and made Peter flinch. He was naked except a tiny thong and a short t-shirt, completely on display for Pierce. 

 “You can be glad I need your tongue for blow jobs,” the Senator said patronizing and Peter wasn’t sure if he was actually glad or even more afraid. “Once I’ve bonded you, you’ll beg for my knot.”

 “Never.” Peter didn’t care anymore that he was saying it out loud, and the second hit on the other side of his face made him feel strangely smug. At least he would go down with his dignity, fighting for himself and his Daddy. 

 Pierce patience was running thin, his hands were clenched to fists and his eyes narrowed to slits. The Omega would certainly pay for this, maybe with his life but certainly with the ability to love. He closed his eyes and imagined his Daddy. He could see Tony’s eyes and his smile, the adoring look he wore around Peter. The last months had been the best of his life and he would never regret coming out with his Daddy. 

 I’m sorry, Daddy. I love you more than anything. Whatever happens, I’d rather be dead than bonded to Pierce.

 Peter raised his head and looked Pierce in the eyes. He was met with a sight of anger and disgust and Peter felt white-hot rage while he was opening his mouth. “You aren’t an Alpha, you’re a pathetic excuse of a human. No one would ever want a monster like you.”

 Then Peter closed his eyes, accepting the consequences of his words.

  ~*~

  Tony was stressed. Work was pretty much the usual, just a few annoying customers he could handle, but the situation with Pierce was making him nervous. He had to be strong, had to be there for Peter and keep his fear in check, but leaving his boy out of his eyes for even a second made him anxious. Rationally, he knew it was stupid. Sure, someone had to stay at Peter’s side, but he trusted Steve with his life and the blonde could protect the Omega just as well.

 In his entire life, Tony had never felt such a strong possessive urge, an overwhelming feeling to protect an Omega. Peter was special, he was everything Tony wanted and nothing he deserved, but knowing his boy stayed at his side out of his free will, made the Alpha happy beyond imagination. He would do anything to protect his boy, even if it meant keeping his fear hidden.

 Although Tony tried to avoid taking Peter to the office, he didn’t really have a choice today. He obviously would prefer fucking his Omega over every available surface of their apartment, burying his knot in the delicious tight heat, but their biggest customer had demanded Tony Stark would appear personally in the meeting and since he wanted to keep his company, the Alpha had to show up. 

 Instead of sulking, Tony made a plan and took Peter with him, basking in the thoughts of how he could show Peter off to everyone working at Stark Industries. Peter was perfect, a sweet little Omega, polite and beautiful, everything any Alpha desired. Hell, even Betas were chasing him, and Tony was honored that such a perfect human being chose him. He would spoil Peter, keep him close and protect him while he showed off that this gorgeous young man was his. And his alone. 

 After Tony had left Peter with Pepper during the meeting, he had planned to fuck the Omega on his desk, watching him whine and beg for Tony’s knot. Peter was beautiful spread out and open for his knot, usually crying for Tony to fill him up. So when they were interrupted again, Tony was slowly losing his patience. He had to assure Peter he would fuck him later, and the Omega was still disappointed. Seeing his boy so disappointed hurt, but Pepper would kill him when he skipped the meeting because of a fuck. 

 The Alpha felt stressed out when he called Steve to pick up his Omega. He didn’t want to leave Peter with Pepper again, and he didn’t want him to wait in the office alone. It would be best to make sure Peter was brought home and he even asked Steve to stay with him until Tony was back. After the threat from Pierce, Tony felt uneasy about leaving Peter alone. 

 Once Peter had left the office, Tony took a deep breath to calm himself. He was horny, his erection was straining in his pants, and he wanted nothing more than call back his Omega and finish what he had started. However, there was a customer waiting for him and he had to focus on sales strategies and stock prices instead of the Omega’s tight little hole. 

  When Tony entered the empty conference room where he was supposed to meet the customer, he immediately knew something was wrong. It was no nagging feeling in the back of his mind, it was full force panic. He knew he had made a mistake. Not Pepper had asked him to come back to the meeting but a stuttering intern he had never met before. The Alpha had been careless and stupid, and now Peter was paying the price. 

 “JARVIS, call Steve and locate Peter’s phone.” Tony’s voice was wavering, fear clouding his mind and he fought against himself so he wouldn’t lose it. His instincts went haywire, the need to protect made him almost vomit, but he couldn’t break down now. He wouldn’t get another chance if he didn’t act now. 

 “Tony?” Steve’s voice made it already crystal-clear that his fear was valid. “I couldn’t do anything; he was already there.”

 “Where is Peter?” Tony croaked out while horror and anger were raging inside of him. How could he have been so stupid? How could Steve have let that happen? How could he have let that happened? 

 “I don’t know. They shoved him in a limousine.” Pierce.

 Tony closed his eyes and counted to three, trying to keep it together. Peter was everything, his son, his love, his Omega, and if something would happen to him, Tony would never forgive himself. Each passing second increased the possibility that someone was hurting Peter and anger wouldn’t solve anything, neither anger at Steve nor anger at himself. 

 “Sir, I’ve located Peter’s phone.” JARVIS interrupted his spiraling thoughts and gave him something to focus on. “It’s moving. According to the speed, he’s driving in a car.” Good, a car. That’s a lead.

 “JARVIS, give me every location in the direction of where the car is heading that is related to Pierce,” Tony ordered while he was already leaving the conference room behind. “Block the elevator for my use only. Steve, meet me in the lobby in thirty seconds.” He hung up without waiting for the blonde’s answer. 

  JARVIS hadn’t only cleared the elevator; he had also cleared the entire lobby. Tony was grateful that he didn’t have to face other people and fumbled with the sleeves of his suit jacket while he was anxiously waiting for the elevator to arrive. Why hadn’t he programmed it to move faster?

 Steve was already standing in the lobby, Bucky next to him, and their faces were a mixture of worry and guilt. Tony wanted to scream at them, ask them why they couldn’t protect Peter, but the only one he should blame for this was himself. They told him what had happened, told him about the Alpha that had threatened Peter to get into the car. The billionaire had never in his entire life felt such a surge of hate before, an urge to protect and kill if necessary. 

 “We have to hurry,” Tony rushed out of the building, Steve and Bucky on his heels. “JARVIS? Any possible locations yet?”

 “The phone is only three blocks away from Senator Pierce’s home, Sir,” the AI answered, and Tony knew immediately why the Senator was bringing Peter there.

 God, he was sick suddenly, his face pale and he had to close his eyes while was opening the driver’s door of his car. Steve urged him aside and took the key’s out of the billionaire’s hand, afraid he was too shaken to drive, while Bucky led him to the passenger seat. They started driving, Steve was breaking every speed law possible, and JARVIS gave him directions based on the location of Peter’s phone. 

 “He wants him in his nest,” Tony whispered after minutes of tension and silence that was only occasionally disturbed by JARVIS commands. “The bastard wants to bond with him. He wants to force himself of Peter.” The urge to vomit was getting stronger and stronger, and Tony heard a ringing in his ears when his thoughts spiraled downwards. 

 “Focus, Tony,” Bucky’s voice was strangely neutral, a sign that he had learned to stay clear-headed in combat situations in the army and he released Omega hormones that helped to calm the Alpha at least a little. “They have a head-start of five minutes, we’re still on time. Figure out everything about Pierce's security system you can find.”

 Right, security system. Good call. Tony took out the Stark Pad with trembling hands and it was sheer luck that he didn’t drop it on the floor. He avoided thinking about Peter, about his honey-brown eyes, his beautiful face, or his gentle nature. He had work to do, something to focus on.

 “JARVIS, hack Google’s satellites. Give me pictures of Pierce’s mansion and every security measure he could have taken.” 

 “Very well, Sir.” Not even ten seconds later, Tony had an entire plan of Pierce’s house with every security measure that the Senator had installed. It wasn’t much, Tony could break-in in a heartbeat. 

 It was too easy to be true. “He doesn’t want to keep us out,” the billionaire speculated while he did his best to push his fear aside. “He knows we can’t really do anything once he’s bound to Peter. Pierce is playing on time.” Horror is spreading in his guts. “He’ll bond him immediately because he can’t keep me out anyway.”

 “Tony,” Steve’s voice is trembling while he pressed the gas pedal through. “We’ll find him in time, I promise. We’re almost there. Bucky, call the police.” Tony could only hope they would.

  The car stopped in front of a huge mansion and Tony was already jumping out when Steve hadn’t turned off the motor yet. His entire body buzzed with anxiety and he didn’t even have the patience to wait for backup in form of Steve or Bucky. His thoughts spiraled around Peter and the imagination of Pierce hurting his Omega made him go feral. There was no way he could wait even a second longer, so he ran to the door and tried to open it. 

 It was locked. Of course, it was. He shook the handle until his fingers hurt, panic rising inside of him like a wave. His mind was going blank, overtaken by the fear of what Pierce could do to Peter. Every second was counting, and the stupid door didn’t give way. 

 Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder tightly and pulled him back. Tony fought, but Steve didn’t let him go, wrapping his arms around Tony’s chest to stop him from escaping. “You have to relax,” Steve made an effort to keep his voice low. “Bucky will open the door. It’s faster and quieter than blasting through it.”

 The Omega smiled tightly and pulled out supplies to open a door. It didn’t take thirty seconds until the lock clicked and the door opened, but for Tony, it felt like hours. As soon as he could enter the hallway, the billionaire was already storming the house, following the scent of his Omega. It led him to the living room. 

  The view made him growl. Peter was kneeling in front of Pierce, his skirt shredded on the floor. He had closed his eyes, hands tied behind his back and Pierce was leaning above him, his teeth close to Peter’s neck. Tony could see that Peter was afraid, he could see that his Omega was shaking in fear and without thinking twice, Tony threw himself at the Senator.

 The impact hurt, his weight made the Senator tremble and he fell on his back, Tony latched onto him. The billionaire gripped Pierce's hands and fixated them over his head while his knee was pressed into the Senator’s stomach. Seeing the monster twisting helplessly under him was a treat and he enjoyed every whimper, every hiss of Pierce. 

 “Stark,” Pierce spat and tried to grin while he was trapped in the billionaire’s grip. “Fancy seeing you here. Do you know that your Omega whore begged me to fuck him? You sure you wanna keep it?”

 “That’s a lie, Daddy. Please, don’t believe him,” Peter was whimpering, his voice trembling and weak. Tony could hear how scared he was, but at the same time relived the billionaire had shown up. 

 Hearing Pierce lying so blatantly, increased his anger even more, and before he realized what he was doing, Tony’s fist connected with the Senator’s chin. The following crack was a satisfying sound, proof that Pierce’s chin was broken. The Senator howled in pain and it fueled the fire inside of Tony even more. He hit a second time, a third, savoring every sound the monster made. His instincts went haywire and his mind was filled with protect and Peter. 

 The smell of blood filled the room and everyone was quiet aside from Pierce who was whimpering on the floor. Every hit felt like payback and Tony punished Pierce for everything he had done to them. For taking away Peter and forcing him against his will, for making them suffer for weeks, afraid the Senator would kidnap the Omega. His body was completely controlled by his Alpha nature and his instincts screamed at him to kill the bastard.

 He probably would have if Peter didn’t stop him. “Daddy,” the Omega was whimpering and Tony turned around after he had tied Pierce’s hands and legs to make sure he couldn’t escape. “Daddy, I love you.”

 Tony tried to smile, tried to suppress the guilt, and wrapped his arms around Peter. He didn’t deserve him. This perfect Omega, kind and beautiful, who fulfilled all of his needs and wishes. He had let him out of his eyes, he had made it possible that Pierce got to him.

 “I’m sorry.” Tony’s eyes burned when he tugged Peter’s face against his chest. The scent of his boy was filling his nose and he couldn’t stop the purr that emerged his throat. Peter was safe, here in his arms, safe and still unbonded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, baby. I’m a miserable Alpha. I love you so much.”

 Peter started to sob, and he pressed himself closer to Tony’s chest. The boy was hiccupping and shaking while Tony held him in his arms. He had failed, had broken his promise to protect the Omega.

 “Daddy, it’s not your fault.” Of course, Peter wouldn’t blame him. He was always nice, but Tony knew better. 

 “I promise, I’ll bond you tomorrow if you still want me.” Tony didn’t want to admit it, but a single tear was running down his chin. He could have bonded the Omega months ago, Peter had told him he was ready, but the billionaire had dragged it out. If he had only listened to his boy, today wouldn’t have happened. 

 Undeservedly, Peter gave him a huge smile and his entire face was glowing. He looked so beautiful on his lap, like an exquisite flower Tony had to nourish and protect. “I want this, Daddy. So much. I belong to you.” The words made the billionaire feel warm inside, and although he knew he didn’t deserve it, there was nothing Tony wanted more. He wanted Peter forever and if the Omega was up to it, Tony would take.

 “Let’s get you out of here,” Tony suggested and tried to stand up, his arms under Peter’s ass to stabilize his weight. Peter wasn’t wearing anything besides the thong and when Tony’s arm pressed against Peter’s cheeks, the Omega moaned a little. Tony felt bad when the sound went straight to his middle. 

 “Daddy?” Peter whimpered and looked at Tony with his huge innocent eyes that made the Alpha weak. Whatever Peter would ask of him, Tony would say yes. “Can you take me home?”

 God, his boy was adorable. Tony knew Peter could play him like a fiddle, but he didn’t care, glad the Omega stayed by his side. He’d never let him out of his eyes again. Peter was his and tomorrow he would make it forever. He closed his eyes when the realization of almost losing Peter hit him again. No one had ever been this important to him and he would rather die than let Peter endure this again. 

  When they left the house, Peter safely carried in his arms and his nakedness covered by Tony’s jacket, the police entered the mansion. Steve had already told them what had happened, so Tony and Peter only had to answer a few questions until they were released. They saw how three officers carried a barely conscious Pierce out of the mansion with his hands tied behind his back. He looked horrible, his face bruised and bloody, but nobody would charge Tony since he had been defending his Omega. Alpha’s getting possessive was rarely punished in court. 

 “I’m so glad you’re fine,” Bucky cried and threw himself against Peter’s backside. Tony trembled slightly under the impact but couldn’t be mad since he completely understood the relief. Bucky and Steve were really good friends and cared for Peter.

 Steve, on the other hand, looked as guilty as Tony felt. “Peter, I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect anything to happen. If I’d only been a little faster…”

 “It’s not your fault,” Peter reassured the blonde, and Tony gripped him tighter. The billionaire’s feelings weren’t rational, but his Omega even smiling at another Alpha made him shake with jealousy. It didn’t matter anymore that Steve had helped saving Peter, his instincts told him to claim his Omega right now. 

 Peter seemed to sense his emotions because he cuddled closer to Tony’s chest and pressed a soft kiss against his neck. “Love you, Daddy. Let’s drive home.”

 Tony cooed and opened the backdoor of his car to place the Omega on his seat. Walking around the car to climb in on the other side already felt like hell. He didn’t want to let go of his Omega, wanted him tugged safely under his arms. As soon as the closed the door behind him, Tony gave up the decent distance and pulled Peter onto his lap. He didn’t care about a seatbelt, as long as he could feel his Omega safe and alive against his body. 

 Steve and Bucky chuckled slightly when they got into the front of the car. Tony knew they were there, but he didn’t care, too focused on the Omega on his lap. Peter was settled against his chest, his legs on either side of Tony’s. Tony’s jacket had slipped a little, so the Omega’s legs weren’t covered anymore. Peter looked adorable, soft and sweet, something Tony had to protect. 

 His Alpha instincts always had been strong. He had wanted to protect Peter, had wanted to claim him, and show him off, but it was nothing against the overwhelming urge he felt right now. Almost losing him had fueled the need to claim his boy and Tony could barely hold himself back to sink his teeth into the Omega’s neck. 

 Peter’s scent was almost too much, a sweet scent of vanilla, roses, and slick that was still lingering from their fuck earlier. Tony felt a little drunk when he buried his nose in Peter’s hair, his instincts telling him to bite and fuck his boy right now. He knew they were in a car, hell, his best friend was driving right now, but every rational thought was taken under by the urge to claim. 

 Tony pressed his lips against Peter’s, prying them open to enter his Omega’s mouth. He plundered every inch, taking in the delicious taste of his boy while his hands wandered under Peter’s shirt. A rumble left his chest, muffled by Peter’s lips, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. 

 “Behave,” Steve warned from the driver’s seat, but Tony only growled in response. He was too far gone to care about decency and everything inside of him screamed for the delicate Omega on his lap. 

 Partly to show Steve that he wouldn’t listen, but also because the pressure became too much, Tony opened the fly of his pants and took out his angry erection. Even his own fingers felt like too much, the denial mixing with the need to show everyone that Peter was his and he barely held back from entering Peter in one stroke. He hadn’t prepped his Omega, fuck, he hadn’t even asked for Peter’s consents.

 The thought of forcing his Omega made him back up a little and Tony hesitated mortified. He had been close to fucking Peter in front of their friends, although Peter had been kidnapped only a few hours ago. Shame was bubbling in his chest, bright and painful. He couldn’t even look at his Omega, didn’t want to face what he had almost done.  

 But instead of accusing Tony, Peter whimpered when he pulled back. “I need you, Daddy. Please.” The Omega sounded so needy, so pitiful, that Tony could deny him. He pulled until the thin fabric of the thong ripped and bared the hole of his Omega. Slick was dripping on his jeans, the scent intensified since the barrier was gone and the smell clouded Tony’s brain. Peter’s arousal was like a drug, making him lose his sanity and the Alpha went feral. 

 Although Bucky and Steve were sitting in the front, Tony pressed a finger in his Omega’s hole. He was welcomed by the familiar heat, wet and velvety, as well as a loud moan that slipped from Peter’s lips. There was no way their friends hadn’t heard that, and even if they weren’t looking, they could certainly smell and hear them. But to his own horror, Tony liked the thought, liked that someone saw his claim on Peter.

 “God, they can hear you, baby,” Tony whispered into Peter’s ear, loud enough for the Omega to hear him, but not for their friends. “You’re like a little slut for me. Dripping although we’re not even alone. Begging for my cock.” His boy whimpered in response, an adorable needy sound that went straight to Tony’s cock. He could feel his own erection twitching, eager with the need to breed his Omega.

 Tony pressed a second finger inside the wet heat, savoring the tight grip of Peter’s walls. He wanted this all day, his Omega dripping and clutching around him, the perfect little hole for his cock. As much as he respected and loved Peter, both of them enjoyed reducing Peter to a quivering and dripping mess. 

 The sounds Peter made were getting louder and louder every second and Tony sucked them up like a sponge. Seeing his Omega’s arousal turned him on, and he pressed Peter closer against his chest so that his boy’s weight would press against his leaking cock. He had already forgotten Steve until the other Alpha spoke up.

 “You’re aware we’re still here, aren’t you?” Steve tried to keep his voice neutral, but Tony could hear that it had dropped lower. A hint of another Alpha’s arousal was filling the car and Tony thought he might have even picked up a scent of unfamiliar slick. The billionaire felt a slight pang of jealousy, but not enough for his instincts to attack. He knew making out with his Omega wasn’t proper, brazen even, but after he had almost lost Peter, his sanity had been turned off. 

 With a growl, Tony pressed in a third finger and Peter’s moans turned into desperate sobs. His boy was so easy for him, a few fingers and he was crying, and Tony had never seen anything more beautiful before. The shame about Peter being his adopted son had lessened over the last few months, leaving appreciation of the gift Peter was giving to him behind. There was no other Omega in the world that would be better for him than his boy. 

 “God, I love you, baby. I can’t hold back anymore.” Tony pulled his pants further down, as much as possible with a sobbing Omega on his lap and one hand in his dripping hole. His own cock was leaking precome, heavy between his legs and he gripped the base to hold it up. 

 “Sit down, sweetheart,” Tony encouraged the needy Omega. “Let me show everyone who you belong to.”

 The moment Tony pulled out his fingers, Peter’s hips surged forward, and he impaled himself on the Alpha’s cock with a cry. Being inside his boy felt like heaven, warm and wet, a little like coming home. Tony had been afraid that he had lost Peter, afraid that Pierce would destroy everything they had built together, but in the end, everything had worked out. Peter was fine, still unbonded, bouncing on the Alpha’s lap. The feeling of being closer to his boy was so overwhelming that Tony’s shoulders started to shake. He had almost lost this forever. 

 Peter determined the rhythm, his hands braced on Tony’s shoulders and the Omega bounced on his lap desperately. Tony could hear him moan, could head the wet squelch each time Peter pulled back a little and the sounds emphasized his arousal even more. Peter felt amazing, his hole was warm, and his body was perfect, a study weight on the billionaire’s lap.

 He had forgotten that they weren’t alone, his lust-crazed brain solely focused on his Omega, but a sudden moan was bringing him back to reality. Peter hadn’t heard it, he was still riding him as if his life depended on it, but when Tony looked at the front of the car, he could see Bucky staring at them while Steve gripped the wheel a little too tight. 

 “Baby, they are looking at you,” Tony growled into Peter’s ear and his hands wandered to his Omega’s hips to support his movements. “Do you like the thought? That someone witnesses our claim on each other?”

 The cry Tony got in response was almost furious and he knew his boy was getting close. He had figured out early that nothing drove Peter crazier than a few filthy words. The Omega was a slut for humiliation and possessiveness, and Tony delivered patronizing. “God, sweetheart, they can hear what a slut you are for me. You’re crying as if you’d die without me. They can even smell how needy you are.”

 Tony knew what he had to do to drive his boy over the edge. “Steve, is Bucky this easy as well? As soon as I give Peter my cock, he can’t think anymore. Can you hear how good he’s taking my cock? Like a stupid little Omega, made to be filled and knotted. Peter is mine.”

 Suddenly, two things happened at the same time. Bucky let out the first loud moan, his head thrown back and his face flushed in embarrassment. Tony could see that his fingers were clutched around his thighs, digging into his pants. Interesting. Humiliation seemed not only to work on Peter. 

 Steve braked abruptly; his knuckles white because he was still gripping the wheel too tightly. A soft growl was echoing through the car, a sign of Steve’s arousal, but it wasn’t loud enough for Tony to feel threatened. Far from it! Seeing how Steve and Bucky react to his Omega made him feel proud. Peter was his and even though a lot of people wanted to fuck and own his boy, he would always belong to Tony. There was no way he wouldn’t claim the Omega tomorrow.

 The moment Steve braked, Peter bucked his hips, the impact pressed Tony’s cock against his sweet spot. His legs started to tremble, and his sounds were getting higher, a sign that the Omega was close. Tony started to move. He thrust up, watching how his cock disappeared into the tight heat. Slick was gushed out of Peter, dripping down onto Tony’s thighs and pants. His boy was gorgeous, moaning, and panting like a whore for the Alpha.

 It didn’t even take a minute until Peter was falling over the edge. He had been riled up the entire day and the need to be claimed was speeding things up even more. Tony could feel his walls fluttering around him, squeezing his cock as if he wanted to milk him for his come. Every wave of Peter’s orgasm squeezed Tony even more and he got closer and closer while his Omega was squirming on his lap.

 “Mine.” Tony roared when he reached his orgasm. The sensation was intense, the need to claim mixing with the relief that his Omega was safe. His cock was pulsing, releasing surge after surge of his seed into his Omega’s body. The feeling of breeding Peter made his mind sing in pleasure and he clutched his Omega’s hips, forcing him to take the growing knot. 

 Nothing felt better than being tied to his boy. The wet heat was filled with Peter’s slick and his seed, and Tony was glad he couldn’t pull out. He loved the closeness; the intimacy of knotting and a content purr left his lips while he cuddled his Omega closer to his chest. He could die like this, happily buried inside his Omega. 

 “That was quite the show,” Bucky broke the silence, his voice a little hoarse. “I haven’t known your sex was this intense.”

 Tony didn’t have to look down to see that his boy was blushing. A strange surge of pride filled him. His instincts told him he was a good Alpha, caring for his Omega how Peter deserved. Tony was a little horrified that he had lost it completely in front of Steve and Bucky, but the need to claim was still dominant. 

 “Don’t get used to it, sniper boy,” Tony joked and gave Bucky a provoking grin. “I’m pretty sure Steve has you sobbing on his knot quite often as well.” The billionaire had expected Bucky to blush, but to his surprise, the Omega only grinned broadly. 

 “That’s a good idea, actually. As soon as we dump them off you have work to do, Stevie.” Steve groaned in response, but Tony could see an anticipating sparkle in his eyes. 

 “I’ve got my hands full with you, Buck,” Steve teased, and Bucky smiled in response. 

 “You chose me, it’s too late now.” 

 The bickering between the pair continued and Tony stopped listening after a while. He leaned back, Peter still pressed against his chest and he savored the lingering buzz in his body. Today had been horrible, but in the end, Peter was safe again and that was everything that counted. Tony knew he didn’t deserve his boy, he was too perfect, too innocent, but there was no way he could back off again. Peter was his and he would spend his entire life proving to the Omega and himself that he could be the perfect Alpha for Peter. 

 Later, when they were home alone, lying in their bed, Tony pulled Peter against his chest and whispered into his ear how much he loved him. He would make tomorrow perfect for the Omega. A day he would never forget. 

[lustresky]

all i ask [peter parker x f!reader]

summary: You question your true feelings for Peter after missing out on five years of your life.

wc: 2400ish.

themes: angst(ish), fluff, happy endings, best friends to lovers trope, mention of dermatillomania, existential questionings...

a/n: this is the first x reader that i have ever written, so sorry in advance if it’s awkward:’’’) english also isn’t my first language, so please do hit me up if i make any mistakes/some things sound wrong! still, i hope that some of you out there will still like this lil thing. i just want to keep peter in my pocket gawd what a bby:’’’’’’’( p.s. title is a song by adele! just had to name this that cuz it unexpectedly came into my playlist while i was writing this and the song just fit so well that it shocked me haha

requests are open! & pls don’t forget to like and reblog, thank you! c:

THIS TAKES PLACE AFTER ENDGAME, RIGHT BEFORE FFH. IT EXCLUDES THE LOVE STORY BETWEEN LIZ & PETER IN HOMECOMING. 

available on ao3.

The rom-com flickered on the screen in front of your and Peter’s eyes, the only light illuminating the small living room.

Your legs were sprawled on top of Peter’s own, your arms becoming a bit numb from the fact that you haven’t moved them from their cramp inducing position for the past fifteen minutes. It wasn’t your fault— the small sofa could only leave you and Peter enough space to lounge about.

He had invited you over for some much needed “hang out” time. Considering the fact that both of you had missed out on five years of your life, you had suggested you both catch up on all of the movies the two of you had missed; but one thing led to another and now you were both watching late 90’s and early 2000’s films. 

You were surprised, and maybe even mildly offended, when Peter had said that he had never watched Mean Girls nor Clueless. The boy who spew out pop comic references every other second had never watched the classics for every teenage girl? The blasphemy!

You fiddled with the fluffy throw covering your legs and partially, Peter’s. Your attention wasn’t really on the movie anymore, you’d seen it multiple times. Could probably recite it by heart, you thought, if you concentrated hard enough.

Speaking of concentration, your eyes inadvertently found their spot upon Peter’s face. It was quite funny, and maybe even adorable if you wanted to go that way, how concentrated the geeky boy was over such a cliché film. You had never once thought, with all of the years that you had known him, that he would listen and take Cher Horowitz’s words to heart.

Peter didn’t notice your gaze, and so you took that as an unspoken permission to roam your eyes over his features: the small lines already appearing beside his eyes, a tell-tale sign of how much he smiled— or at least, tried to, these days. There were those chiseled cheeks and the sharp jawline that he somehow managed to maintain despite eating delivery food every other day. (You can’t blame May, she tries her best, really; but sometimes Thai or Chinese is just way more palatable.) His nose, a bit crooked, from an ”accident.“ (You still don’t really know the exact details about that one, and frankly, you think it would hurt just hearing about it.) Soft curls of his brown hair fell over his forehead, messy and barely brushed.

Truly, you could probably spend a whole hour just staring at him. It’s weird, you know, who the hell stares at their own best friend for long periods of time? Well, MJ probably does, but then again she draws people most of the time so that’s socially allowed... and well— she’s MJ. She just… does that. You suppose.

Maybe she does have a point, you mused. People-watching seemed fun, seeing the way that people processed information was interesting, but you couldn’t really imagine doing that to anyone— anyone else but Peter, at least.

You loved Peter. It wasn’t even a question. Truly, you did— he was family. However, after the Snap, you started to question how you truly felt about him.

Did you ‘love’ him? You had asked yourself that question multiple times already. Then again, he was cute, goal-oriented, stubborn, loyal, smart, geeky, strong... (not just physically, between his difficult childhood and what you both had just gone through, you think that he may just be the strongest person that you know, mentally.) He knew how to make you laugh, how to make you feel safe… God, he was your exact type. 

However, you had always put your feelings aside ever since you came back from the dead. What if it was just your mind craving for affection, afraid that you would never be able to experience the love that you had always wanted? Were you just terrified of the thought of not living your life to the fullest, that you started to ’love’ the first person to have ever given you warmth, just because the choice to do so was taken away from you? 

Did you actually love him in that way? Would you still have loved him in that way, even if that purple fucking raisin didn’t come out of the fucking sky and take you both away from reality without even asking? Were you just blindsided? Were you wearing rose-coloured glasses?

What type of love for him did you feel, exactly?

It didn’t really help that Peter was way more clingy and touchy now. Sure, you were best friends even before then, but you never really touched each other so often before. His actions only further spiraled your pondering.

His hands seemed to linger more on your shoulders, nowadays. Now, he would, absentmindedly, lay his hands on your thighs while you were talking. Now, his hugs were tighter, warmer, and always included both of his arms— unlike those casual, one armed hugs that you would give each other while saying goodbye after school, right before you both ceased existing.

While talking, his eyes seemed to stare straight into yours, which always made you falter with your words before you shook his gaze off. Once, you saw him fixating his eyes on your lips while you vented to him about a mathematical formula that gave you a hard time. 

He never really did that before— whenever you didn’t understand something, he would always just give you a small grin before shaking his head and finding a way to better explain the topic to you. At first, you thought that maybe he just had a lot on his mind, that he was just staring into space… 

Or maybe, just maybe, he loved you. In that way.

Though, now that you thought more about it, maybe he just craved affection like you did. He went through a lot. His life was never devoid of danger, and it wasn’t questionable to want comfort after all of the things that he had gone through. Did he truly feel that way about you, or did he only see you as a comfort tool? You wouldn’t be angry if he did, out of all the people that you knew that deserved more reassurance and love, he was definitely on top of the list. 

You didn’t mind. You understood.

Was he in the same boat as you? 

You startled yourself away from your thoughts when Peter suddenly retracted his body further back into the couch, as if he wanted to bury himself in it. His brows were furrowed, nose scrunched, lips curled up in disgust; though to your relief his eyes were still glued to the screen and he hadn’t just seen you checking him out. You chuckled at the unexpected reaction, “What’s gotten you so worked up?”

Peter shook his head from side to side, as if that would help him from his current situation. “I get that they aren’t really related, but it’s just— weird.” He replied. 

Intrigued, you shifted your eyes over to the screen, and was welcomed by Cher and Josh kissing. You laughed at Peter’s disgust.

“How is it weird? They’ve had— like, very evident tension for half of the movie, Pete.” You replied, eyes watching the way Josh held Cher’s face in his hands. As much as you would never admit it, your stomach fluttered at the scene. “Don’t tell me you didn’t expect it to happen.”

Peter groaned. “It’s not that I didn’t expect it to happen, it’s just— Josh is what, almost twenty or something? And Cher is our age!” He rattled off. “I’m having flashbacks to when I learned that Luke and Leia were actually related.” 

You shook your head and let out a snort. Typical Peter, always finding a way to reference Star Wars.

“It’s just a lil’ kiss scene Pete, don’t get so worked up about it.” You chuckled. You let out a dreamy sigh, your lip unknowingly curling into a small smile. Truth be told, you've always wanted something so passionate yet so soft like that to happen to you. 

You couldn’t help but let the next words tumble out of your mouth. “Isn’t it romantic though? The fact that the person that Cher has been searching and looking for so hard was actually just right there.”

“Always there…” Your voice slowly found itself becoming quieter, until it was only a ghost of a whisper. “Right by your side.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. What the fuck was all that sudden sentimental bullshit, Y/N? You thought to yourself.

You hoped that Peter just didn’t pick up on what you had just said. The movie was loud enough to cover it, right?

With a reassuring breath, mostly to yourself, you turned your gaze back to Peter’s face.

Only to find him staring back at you.

Fuck, what were you thinking? With his enhanced senses, of course he would’ve heard what you had said.

Your breath got caught in your throat as your brain almost short circuited from the unexpected eye contact. His stare was unrelenting; from the dim light of the television, you can see his dilated irises, swimming with what you can only assume was longing… and hope.

The air suddenly seemed thick with tension. What kind it was? You weren’t really sure, but the movie and its noises were now just background noise and lighting. From the corner of your eyes, you see Peter’s Adam apple bob up and down as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Y/N…” He started, slowly, seemingly unsure of how to word his sentence. You mustered up a small bit of courage and sent him a small smile, patiently waiting for his brain to catch up with his mouth. It was one of his quirks that you adored so much, how much he struggled with the right words to say, because he knew the gravity of them; even if he did end up just spewing them out in the end.

“I— I don’t really know how to say this exactly, but,” Peter chewed on his bottom lip. “God I just— I just need to man up and say it because it’s been on my mind ever since I came back and I don’t think I can put it off any longer because I’m scared that you’ll disappear again and that I’ll never have the chance to say the truth and I—“ He stopped in his tracks, seemingly running out of words to say. His head dropped to look at his lap, as he started fidgeting with his hands and picking at his cuticles. A nervous tick that you recognized.

You straightened up from your lounging position, and slowly reached out your arms to lay your own hands on top of his, effectively gaining his attention and stopping his quite destructive habit. Bit by bit, he faced you once more; albeit now his eyes seemed to be more glassy.

“Y/N,” He took a shaky breath. “You— you mean so much to me.“ His eyes stared straight through you, and by now you felt your eyes start getting teary too.

“When it was happening I— all I could think about was how I felt about you. I— I felt so fucking selfish. I didn’t even think about Aunt May— or Ned, or MJ. All I thought about was how much I regretted not telling you how I actually felt about you sooner— that I’ll never be able to tell you how much I actually fucking loved you—“

Instinctively, you cut him off with your index placed on his lips. Now it was your turn to let out a shaky breath as your hand descended and found itself laying once more on Peter’s own.

Peter loved you. Even before the snap. Even before you disappeared.

The sight of Peter in front of you: vulnerable, hair ruffled, cheeks and nose and the tips of his ears red, his eyes watering as he poured his heart out to you was the moment that answered all of your doubts from before.

That was when you realized that you loved him, too. Truly. Without a doubt.

You loved him before everything went to hell, you still love him now, and fuck, you would still love him even if you hadn’t died. You weren’t wearing rose-coloured glasses, hell, far from it. You were seeing everything clearly. You were seeing everything just the way that they are.

You opened your lips, and a strangled but genuine giggle came out. “Pete, I love you too. I’ve loved you since— fuck, I can’t even remember when I actually started fucking loving you. You’ve been such a constant in my life that I questioned myself whether I truly loved you romantically, because I’m also a fucking idiot that thought that the type of love that I had for you was only platonic. Turns out they’re both one and the same.” You were laughing now, with a few hiccups here and there from the hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

“And shut up— you aren’t selfish,” With a new wave of courage, you lifted up one of your hands again and cradled his face. He leaned into it, impulsively, sniffling. “You’re one of the most selfless people that I know, hell, you put yourself in danger for people that you don’t even fucking know. I… I honestly think you could use more selfishness sometimes.” You laughed, softly, trying to regain a bit more composure with the tidal wave of emotions washing through you.

Peter, thankfully, found your quip funny. He snorted, shaking his head, as he lifted the sleeve of his Midtown Tech hoodie up to wipe at his tears. He wiped yours too, and you thanked him with a genuine smile.

All hearts now bared, you both just stared at each other, not really knowing what else to say nor do. From what you could tell, the movie was over now, the ending scene just slowly rolling in as it always does.

You opened your mouth, about to break the silence, when Peter beat you to it.

“Can I kiss you?”

A chuckle escaped your mouth before you could reply properly, and a huge grin overtook your face as your cheeks heated up once more. You squeezed his hands, and nodded.

Peter leaned in, and you had never felt more at peace.

[wildroseofarran]

Facing Demons || Brett, Guildias, MJ, & Pete || April, 2020

Brett: It had been several weeks since Brett had received that letter from California. During that time the letter had sat untouched in his locked desk drawer at the station, coming out only once when it had been shown to his domitor.

The rest of the time had been spent keenly aware of its presence while contemplating burning it or trying and failing to work up the courage to get it out again. Brett could think of good reasons to do the former and only one to do the latter, yet somehow, he hadn't ever been able to bring himself to get rid of it. He hadn't been able to work up the courage either.

Truth be told, he had no idea what finally made him do it; just that while having his lunch one afternoon, he found himself unlocking that drawer and looking at that number scrawled on the bottom.

"God help me," he sighed.

{Text to MJ} Hi

{Text} Does the offer still stand?

MJ: MJ felt for his phone on the bedside table. Blackened out room. Still no night vision; still no desire to live in daylight.

The brightness of the screen burned his retinas, hissing like a cat. The phone bounced between hands in an exhausting rescue attempt.

{Text} Whoooo yes. Hi. {Text} If this is the sheriff absolutely

Brett: Right, new number. MJ wouldn't remember Brett's phone number, he should've self-identified. Silly mistake brought on by buckets of anxiety.

{Text} Yeah, sorry about that

{Text} It's Brett Parker

MJ: {Text} Sup man

{Text} Where ya want? When?

{Text} Please don't say right now my eyeballs are roasting

Brett: Brett stared down at his phone, worrying his lip between his teeth. He hadn’t thought he’d make it this far and didn’t have a plan.

{Text to Guildias} Hey

{Text to Guildias} I finally got up the courage to contact MJ

Guildias: {Text from Guildias} Are you alright?

Brett: {Text to Guildias} Kind of. Feeling anxious and like I shouldn’t be eating lunch because I’m afraid I might see it again

{Text to Guildias} He’s asking where and when I want to meet

Guildias: The next text takes a minute.

{Text} You wish for me to accompany you?

Brett: {Text} I would, if you’re still willing

Guildias: {Text} Where would you feel most comfortable?

Brett: {Text} Your place, if we’re being completely honest

Guildias: {Text} Set up the meeting, then.

Brett: {Text} What time works best?

Guildias: {Text} Eight o'clock. {Text} Have to yield to our schedule tonight.

Brett: Brett had figured as much. At least he had a few hours to calm himself down and work up even more courage to actually go through with it.

{Text} I thought as much

{Text} Is it okay if I come a little early?

Guildias: {Text} It'll just be me. I would prefer you first.

Brett: Brett took a deep breath. That much was a relief. Getting there first was just a small little thing but he knew from other experiences that it would help a lot.

{Text} Okay, thank you

{Text} Is it all right if I get there around 7:30?

Guildias: {Text} That's fine. Wait at the door for me and do try not to be alarmed by my appearance.

Brett: He frowned at his phone. Alarmed? Why would he be alarmed?

{Text} I promise I'll try my best

{Text} See you tonight

Guildias: Guildias felt under-dressing, shirtless as he had been for days, would distract from the occasion. A black loose-fitted V-neck sweater was slipped into and tucked. The left sleeve hung, empty from down the elbow.

A text was sent Callum, warning of the impending chapter about to unfold.

Brett: Now that there was a plan in place, Brett turned his attention back to his other conversation with a bit less anxiety.

{Text to MJ} No, don't worry. I'm working right now

{Text to MJ} Are you free tonight at 8? We can meet at Guildias' house

MJ: MJ stared for a moment. He shouldn't have been surprised. Something in the suggestion of Guildias insulted him.

{Text} Yeah. I'll see ya then

Brett: {Text} See you then

{Text} Also, just out of curiosity, why are your eyeballs roasting?

MJ: {Text} Daylight sheriff

{Text} I have this skin condition see

{Text} Where everything hurts and I'm dying because daytime

Brett: {Text} Right, forgot it's the middle of the day only for me

{Text} Sorry about that

{Text} I'll see you tonight

MJ: {Text} Get some vitamin D for me

Brett: {Text} Will do

Now to attempt to finish his lunch and the rest of his shift despite the queasy feeling in his stomach. He also had to tell Bo that he would be home late.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he sighed to his sandwich.

Guildias: Guildias unlocked the one and only entrance at 7:15 pm. Walked around the house once and stepped outside with a pair of brown octagonal sunglasses. The moon was warm and far too bright to ignore tonight. Its image a reminder of Peter Graham. Made him curious enough to message the gentle beast as he took a seat on the edge of the porch.

Brett/Pete: Brett was still busy working up courage in his car somewhere, but Pete not nearly as much. The pub was quiet tonight, giving him a chance to check his phone.

{Text} Fancy hearing from you

{Text} What are you up to?

Guildias: {Text} Growing things. Relaxing by moonlight and thinking of you.

{Text} But truly, playing the role of mediator.

Pete: {Text} Awww, that’s sweet. Growing things is certainly one way to put it

{Text} Who or what are you mediating?

Guildias: {Text} A lost relationship.

{Text} I strive to squash avoidable headaches.

Pete: {Text} Nothing breaks the ice like food and booze

{Text} Could help avoid those headaches

Guildias: {Text} If it were only so simple.

Pete: {Text} There’s gotta be something that’ll help

Guildias: {Text} Time and proof and willingness.

Pete: {Text} Sounds like you’ve got at least one of those if you’re being asked to mediate

Guildias: {Text} We shall see if that is the case.

{Text} You take care now.

Brett/Pete: {Text} You too, man

{Text} Sending you luck and good energy

Two things Brett was in sore need of as he pulled up to Guildias’ house. It was just shy of 7:30 but he hadn’t been able to drive around in idle circles any longer.

He just hoped Guildias wouldn’t mind.

Guildias: Guildias watched, raised his hand in wave, cigarette pinched between two fingers. He seemed to be favoring his right shoulder, elbow leaned against the porch. The sleeve of his left arm was mostly empty, laid flat over his abdomen.

Brett: Brett didn't notice at first. He waved back and cut the engine, got out just as he always did. It didn't hit him that something looked...not quite right until he was walking towards the house, and even then, it took him getting even closer to see that Guildias' left hand wasn't poking out of its sleeve.

And actually...that left sleeve looked empty, didn't it? Almost like....

"Wait, wh--where's your arm?! Sorry, hi, I just--hell, I broke my promise already."

Guildias: "It's alright." Less panic than expected of the timid sheriff. Another tally in his progression. More concern than fear.

"It was by design. You'll find me in proper form next week. For now, I would appreciate your tying the end."

Brett: There was definitely more concern, along with an avalanche of questions that he planned to keep to himself for the time being. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Just tell me how."

Guildias: "Just a simple knot. Not too tight. The dangle is rather annoying."

Brett: "You got it."  Brett tied off the sleeve as neatly as possible, careful not to stretch the material too much. If Guildias really would get that arm back, that sleeve needed to look decent.

"There you go. That better?"

Guildias: Where it seemed the elbow was shook back and forth to test. Acceptable.

"Thank you. Now, would you rather we go inside?"

Brett: Brett took a seat beside Guildias. "I'm okay to stay out here a bit while you finish your cigarette."

Guildias: "Kind as always." He knew the answer, but still offered the cigarette anyway.

Brett: He shook his head. “Someday maybe, but not today. Thanks though.”

Guildias: "How prepared are you for what's about to happen?"

Brett: “Not nearly enough.”

Guildias: "What is it you want to hear?"

Brett: “I don’t know. Part of me still thinks this is all a trick somehow.”

Guildias: "I've been in contact with him for some time. I would not lead you astray for cheap entertainment."

Brett: He nodded. “I know. I guess I just don’t trust him.”

Guildias: "Why would you? You haven't seen him."

Brett: “What if I’m still not able to after I do see him?”

Guildias: "Then you don't have to see him again. But you will have faced him."

Brett: Brett nodded again, taking a deep breath for good measure. "Conquer your demons and all that, right?"

Guildias: "Or leave them as tar on your body."

Brett: "I've got enough tar already. Don't want anymore."

Guildias: "Good man." The last of his cigarette depleted, Guildias forced himself to his feet.

"Shall we?"

Brett: He could feel the knots begin to form in his stomach as he stood. Every part of him wanted to get back in his car and race back home so he could hide under the covers, but his feet would carry him inside after his domitor.

MJ/Guildias: There was no concealing the sound of MJ's Harley. Its classic intention could be heard a quarter mile through the muffling trees. A sound which did nothing to spur Guildias from his languid arrangement on the stiff couch. Only in the silence of the engine did the Setite rise to his feet.

"Remain comfortable," was his only command as he approached the door.

Brett: It was like flipping a switch; or it would be, if Brett hadn't already been so nervous. First sign of that bike coming toward the house and the stress sweat started, the knots in his stomach tightened to the point of discomfort, fight or flight activated in every possible way.

If he spoke one of them would win out, so he just nodded. Never mind that comfortable was the farthest thing from what he was feeling right now. He just wanted it to be over. He wanted to have faced it without having to face it.

MJ/Guildias: Guildias greeted MJ at the door. He needn't explain. For this to be their meeting ground, MJ knew there were unspoken rules. Don't approach; be gentle with the ghoul. The look in the Setite's eyes told him to behave, and without prompt he nodded.

MJ's first thought upon laying eyes on the sheriff was that of a porcelain doll. Without smoothness and impossible complexion. Brett Parker was a delicate creature. His arms and chest had since filled and firmed. Everything else was distinctly the same. It was as though Guildias had done nothing but indulge the ghoul in vitae. His initial feeling was that of anger, but then like a slap remembered the deed which brought them here.

He decided upon a simple greeting, uttered softly, apologetic in inflection.

"Hey."

Brett: Brett didn't make eye-contact or get to his feet. Instead he picked a spot somewhere in the region of MJ's middle and gave a jerky nod in greeting and something that could reasonably pass for a smile.

"Hi." His voice had lost its ease in an effort to keep it from trembling. It was stiff, just like all the rest of him.

MJ/Guildias: MJ exchanged a glance with Guildias, looked to the emptiness of his sleeve and scoffed. The logical path to take was that of avoidance. For at least five minutes.

"Ya hear how that happened?"

Brett: He shook his head. "I didn't ask, I just tied."

MJ/Guildias: "Oh ya did that?"

"Is that a story you wish to hear?" Guildias asked.

Brett: He really, really doubted that a story that ended with Guildias losing an arm was something he wanted to hear, not even on a good day. But it was probably best to keep the conversation going, otherwise it would stall and the space would fill with tense silence and that was worse.

"Sure."

MJ/Guildias: MJ held his hands up in submission, then down slowly at his sides before taking a seat directly across. Guildias took to the arm of the couch by Parker's side. The Ravnos began to explain his visit, his friend Abel Harrington, and the idea to rescue a child they had suspicions had somehow fallen into through the Gauntlet into another realm. He then held both hands to Guildias.

"I couldn't go in. Had t'play security guard. But if ya ever saw Poltergeist ya got an idea of the goo they were covered in when they got out."

"The child is safe and healthy, according to news," said Guildias.

Brett: Brett had to fight to keep from leaning against Guildias for safety and comfort, but he appreciated his domitor’s nearness nonetheless. It was exactly the sort of thing Guildias would do.

At least the story provided plenty of distraction. There were parts of it—most of it— he could scarcely believe, things that sounded too fantastical to ever be real. He probably wouldn’t if he had any other job and didn’t watch TV.

“I remember hearing about that kid when he first went missing. Every law enforcement agency in the state got an alert. Glad he’s okay.”

MJ: "All in a night's work. Should give Guildias a superhero name. Somehow I've been dubbed Aquaman." He remembered giving Xavier his name, but couldn't for the unlife of him remember how he'd been worthy of his moniker. Something to ask when this was over; something to take his mind off of the meek look in the sheriff's eyes.

"M'sorry," he finally said.

Brett: After having braved enough to look at MJ’s chest, Brett seemed to lose his nerve and looked down at his hands instead. He had them clasped in his lap, knuckles white with the effort to keep them from shaking.

At a loss for a response, he remained silent.

MJ: "Ya don't have t'say anything. I know I fucked up. Ya looked at me like I was some... dangerous stranger. Thought if I could make ya laugh." He imitated a heartbeat. "N'then I had no thoughts. I know more shit happened, but I don't have it."

Brett: For a moment he swore he could smell lavender again. More than once a passing whiff of it had sent him into a panic, made him horribly ill. It was forever linked with that night in his mind. But apparently only in his.

“You don’t remember,” he said to the floor.

MJ: "I was two people. One that wanted t'love ya, the other wanted to... have ya."

Brett: “Which one is here?”

MJ: "Both."

Brett: “How?”

MJ: "Threat of death can do a hell of a lot. I became we became I." His hands came out then fell to his knees. "I keep tellin' people I'm not Victoria. I'm not MJ."

Brett: That didn't really answer his question, but he wasn't sure he really wanted an explanation. Some questions you just didn't want the answers to.

"Who are you?"

MJ: "I'm in this body, so you can still call me MJ, or Mayhew, or asshole. Whatever works."

Brett: "So you're still named MJ. Who are you. Why'd you send me that letter in the first place if you didn't even remember what you did?"

MJ: "Ya didn't deserve what happened. I know that much. Isn't that enough?"

Brett: "Would it be for you?"

MJ: "If it meant anything t'ya."

Brett: "And what is it that you want from me?"

MJ: "T'know you're okay."

Brett: "You sent me the letter weeks ago and I'm just now here with you. What does that tell you?"

MJ: "M'not askin' for forgiveness."

Brett: "It would be meaningless if you were."

MJ: "It'd be a child askin' forgiveness for the sins of the mother."

Brett: "It would be meaningless because you wouldn't know what you were asking forgiveness for."

MJ: He placed both fists together. Exactly.

Brett: Brett’s gaze fell to the floor.

So. This was it. This was as close to closure as he was ever going to get. He got to feel unclean for the rest of his life and have nightmares and panic attacks while the person who made him this way got...nothing. MJ got to be a whole new person, free of the burden of that night while Brett was left to shoulder it alone.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting or if he was really expecting anything. It wasn’t like he had any reason to. That night had broken him in a thousand different ways but he was fully aware that from a vampire’s perspective, the whole thing had been his fault. For refusing. For being difficult. For believing, just for a moment, that he was a person who had the luxury of saying no. Life had already taught him that that wasn’t a word he could say anymore. He was a ghoul.

And ghouls didn’t get to say no.

Brett sighed. “I don’t know what else to say.”

MJ: "Ya ain't - Ya don't have t'say anything else. I'm... I'm glad ya let this happen. Us," he motioned between them, "but this wasn't for me. If someone did what - I want ya t'feel... safe again? I had a whole speech planned out, but I can't. That shit feels empty."

Brett: He shook his head. “I don’t. Feel safe. Not anymore, not for months.” Despite his progress, he still had bad days. When those bad days were really bad, they led to bad weeks.

The scent of lavender or pumpkin, a stranger touching him in public, a nightmare, a shadow on the kitchen tile out of the corner of his eye, the sight of blood; it felt like anything was liable to set it off.

MJ: "What d'ya want me t'do, Brett?"

Brett: That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? What could MJ do that would change anything?

Brett sighed. “Unless you’ve got a time machine...nothing. This is for me to deal with.”

MJ: "I ain't got one of them. Don't think it'd do ya good." Without thinking, he rubbed the back of his head. A tingle there akin to an itch.

Brett: “Sure as hell wouldn’t hurt.”

MJ: "How long's it been? What ya do since then? Ya'd lose all that."

Brett: “That’s easy to say for someone with no memory,” Brett said to the floor.

MJ: "Yeah, but I still got people."

Brett: Good for you, he thought, sounding sarcastic even in his mind. Why was he still here? There was nothing more to say, and they'd established there was nothing more to do.

He'd done it, he'd faced his demons, and all he'd gotten was the knowledge that his demons had gotten off scot-free. It was, as he'd said, for him to deal with.

Away from here.

"I'd like to go home now," Brett said, turning his head toward Guildias but not looking at him. He felt...defeated. Sounded it, too.

MJ/Guildias: "No one here will stop you," Guildias said. This was all for Brett Parker's peace of mind. Face the fear, as he'd encouraged for months. This chapter had finally reached its end.

MJ nodded, felt the safest route was stillness. Let Brett command the room and leave at his own accord.

"If ya wanna talk, or need me t'do somethin', ya got my number."

Brett: Brett acknowledged both of them with a nod and got to his feet. He couldn’t conceive of a situation where he’d want to turn to MJ for a favor or sympathetic ear, not now. Perhaps not even in the near future. But he supposed the offer counted for something in some cosmic sense.

That was about as much graciousness as he could muster at the moment.

He gave a sedate farewell to his domitor, gave MJ a vague grunt of acknowledgement, and let himself out, giving the couch where MJ sat as wide a berth as he could without clinging to the wall.

He wasn’t up for company, didn’t want to bring this mood and this...this home to Bo. So he’d drive around until he could find someplace quiet to be with his thoughts where no one would talk to him.

[moonstruckholland]

Happy Birthday? (p.p)

(the gif has nothing to do with the fic, I was just too lazy to make a moodboard 😂)

Word count: 2,284

Warnings: tiny bit of angst, hella fluff

A/N: This is my submission for @farfromhaz and @angelhaz11's writing challenge! Go send them some love! Anyways, here's writing number two of the night! I really hope you guys like it! Definitely feel free to send any and all feedback, it would make my spooky day even happier 🧡 (I'm technically late but it's still Halloween somewhere so shhhh it's okay)

Sharing your birthday with your favorite holiday, even if it was Halloween, wasn't always as fun as everyone would assume.

Believe it or not, people actually forgot your birthday. You couldn't fully blamed them, Halloween was amazing. What could compare to the candies, scary movies, and fun costumes? Definitely not your measly little birthday parties, especially as you grew older and everyone was trading in trick or treating for Halloween parties that went on for hours into the night.

But you couldn't lie and say it didn't hurt your feelings growing up when you walked into your classroom expecting just one "Happy birthday" and instead getting, "Happy Halloween!" followed by a "Oh, it's your birthday isn't it?"

It hurt your little child heart so much, you decided at the age of 9 to stop telling people your birthday and pretended it already passed whenever someone asked. It was dumb looking back on it now that you were an adult, but back then it seemed like the only reasonable solution.

The only person at school who knew your birthday was your best friend and crush of many years, Peter Parker. You didn't tell him purposely, he stumbled into your apartment window one night in high school, bleeding and in a daze, and you were getting ready for a birthday dinner.

"You look really nice, can I ask where you're going?" He voice was raspy as you cleaned the cuts on his face.

"You don't get to ask questions when you've been hiding the fact that you're freaking Spider-Man."

He decided to keep quiet for a while, not wanting to push you. You waited until he looked less like death to say something.

"It's my birthday," you mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

"It's your birthday? And you didn't tell me? I'm your best friend!"

"Don't start with me Spider-Boy," you glared at him for moment before softly adding, "I haven't told anyone in years."

"Why?"

"Everyone would forget, so I figured no one can forget if they don't know, saves me from being stressed."

"Well, now that I know, I'm never going to forget."

You rolled your eyes, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Parker."

He kept his promise, making a big deal of your birthday every year. One year he snuck you out of your apartment at night and swung you around the city, showing you places you hadn't known existed.

Another year, he brought you to a halloween party at the Stark tower. You never thought you'd see Captain America wish you a happy birthday personally, but it was one of the greatest experiences of your life.

It honestly didn't matter what he did, the fact that he cared and bothered to remember is what made it truly special. You were sure as long as Peter was in your life, you'd always have a special birthday.

Well, maybe not this year. So far today was the worst birthday of your life.

You woke up very late, apparently forgetting to set your alarm the night before. You rushed to throw on clothes and get as decently presentable as you could rushing to make it to your midterm.

“If you’re late, don’t bother showing up,” you could hear your professor’s shrill voice as you practically sprinted to your car.

You drove to class like you were in one of the fast and the furious movies, definitely breaking at least one law in the process. Luckily for you, the roads seemed to be empty, one gift from the universe. You knew if Peter weren’t already in class, he’d probably be with you right now, chastising you for your horrible driving,

‘I could really use Peter right now, swinging to school would be much faster.’

It was then that you realized Peter hadn't sent you his usual good morning happy birthday text he always sent, in fact you hadn't heard from him at all since you threw your into studying yesterday. You stomach clenched with worry for a second before you quickly pushed it aside, remembering you had to run to class.

You made it to your statistics class with minutes to spare, barely. You would’ve felt relieved, except the second you sat down to pull out your materials, you came to the realization you left the cheat sheet your professor allowed you to bring in your folder, laying on the exact spot you put it before passing out last night.

‘Fuck,’ you wanted cry. That dumb piece of paper was your key to passing this test and it was at home. You obviously had no choice but to take the test, so you told convinced yourself the studying you did last night would be enough, trying your best to think positively.

You didn't fail, but you definitely didn't get the grade you wanted. After more than an hour of answering questions, working them out on your scrap paper, you ended it with a 72. You beat yourself up about it the whole way home. The only thing you were looking forward to was seeing Peter and your lovely roommate Casey, and the delicious chocolate chip cookies she made just for you.

You couldn't help smiling as you heard Peter laughing from down the hall. You often came home to Peter already there, a perk that came with giving him a key, making food or literally hanging from the ceiling while studying.

"At least he always keeps me on my toes," you mumbled under your breath, wondering how you'd find him this time as you unlocked your door.

Much to your surprise, he was just sitting on the couch, Mean Girls playing in the background as he played what looked like some sort of star wars game on his phone.

“Hey, Pete!” you called out, closing the door behind you.

“Hey,” he barely looked at you, too into his game.

Taking a seat beside him, you sighed dramatically, laying your head on his shoulder while you waited for him to pay attention to you. That didn't happen for another 15 minutes and you wondered how he could be so into a game that he couldn't even play on one of the many game consoles Mr. Stark has bought him over the years.

"So," he said after finally putting his phone down, "What's the plan for today?"

"Oh, um, I thought maybe we'd swing through the city and go to our little spot?"

"I was thinking we'd do something different?"

"Like what?" You were suddenly filled with excitement, knowing Peter always came up with the best plans.

"You know that cute girl from down the hall? She invited me to one of the sorority parties and I thought we'd go together."

"You and the girl from down the hall?"

"No, silly," he nudged you gently, "You and me."

The excitement started to slowly fade away as you realized he was being serious, he wanted to go to a Halloween party, he probably wanted to meet up with the cute girl, he forgot your birthday.

"Um, sure! Sounds good." You gave him your best fake smile, trying not to cry on the spot.

He didn't seem to notice, going on about the exam he took a couple of hours ago. You nodded at the appropriate timing, making it seem like you were fully invested, and you wanted to me, but you were so hurt you could barely focus.

Eventually, Peter got up to leave and you hated to even think it, but you were relieved. Until you heard his goodbyes.

"I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

"Yeah," you said quickly, practically pushing him out the door.

"Oh, and tell Casey her cookies were delicious."

"What cookies?"

"Her famous chocolate chip ones."

You sighed, "Did you at least save me one?"

You knew his answer from the look on his face, the immediately blush coloring his cheeks and the way his eyes wouldn't meet yours.

"I'm sorry! I forgot! She can make more, right?"

'That isn't the only thing you forgot, Peter.'

Now you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or lunge at him, but Peter was out the door and down the hall before you could do either.

Closing the door behind you, you decided to settle for the former, tears spilling down your cheeks instantly. A part of you hoped Peter was just messing around and would knock on your door any second now, telling you it was all a joke and he would never forget your birthday.

But as more and more time passed, you knew he genuinely forgot.

You tried giving him the benefit of the doubt, tried giving him a chance to realize his mistake. Hours later, when he came to pick you up, it didn't seem like that was going to happen either.

He greeted you at the door like nothing, "Do you like my costume?"

Even upset with him, you couldn't help laughing as he twirled in his Spider-Man suit. "Again, Peter?"

"What? You can't go wrong dressing up like Spider-Man!"

You agreed with him, though you still hoped he was only joking about the party.

He wasn't, he swung the two of you a block away from the sorority house. You could practically smell the booze from there.

'He really brought me to a party.'

You tried making the best out of it, flirting with cute guys and girls, but it wasn't much fun considering most of them were so drunk, they could barely speak properly. And you knew regardless of how much you flirted, there was only one guy you were actually interested in.

So, after an hour and half of torture, you found yourself outside, playing games on your phone while you waited for Peter on the steps.

He came out not long after, sitting beside you, "Are you having fun?"

You barely looked at him, "No, not really."

"Y/n?" He put his arm around your shoulder, "What's wrong?"

"Everything? From the second I woke up this day has been so shitty, I left my notes and tanked my test, you ate the last cookie, which was mine, by the way," you took a moment to pull away and glare at him.

"Then you brought me here, and what hurts the most is my best friend forgot my birthday," you voiced cracked as you finished your sentence, betraying the cool composure you were trying to keep.

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but you honestly didn't want to hear an explaination, you just wanted to go home and leave this day behind you, "It's okay, just take me back to my place?"

He didn't object, looking around for any witnesses before throwing on his mask, picking you up and swinging away.

You didn't open your eyes on the way home, you instead pretended it was a normal night filled with fun and dumb you and Peter things.

'Like it should've been.'

When Peter finally set you down, you were not on the fire escape by your bedroom window. You were on the roof of your building, twinkle lights and candles everywhere. There were tables full of your favorite food, and one had the most beautiful birthday cake you had ever seen.

Peter pulled off his mask, "Did you really think I would forget?"

"I-" you were speechless, he was messing with you.

"It's not over yet," he smiled, "You can come out now."

Instantly, all of your friends and family popped out from underneath the tables, yelling out "Surprise!"

You were immediately flooded by your loved ones, everyone wishing you happy birthday and showering you with love. You were overwhelmed with happiness, tears of joy falling down your cheeks for the first time that night. You couldn't believe Peter did all of this for you, and managed to trick you.

You let yourself have actual fun. It was much easier considering everyone was coherent, plus you were once again blessed by the presence of the avengers. It was hard not to have fun when Thor and Tony were around.

Later on, you snuck away, finding Peter and pulling him to the side. You smacked his arm the second you were alone.

"You ass! I can't believe you did this!"

"I couldn't let this be a boring birthday!"

You rolled your eyes, "You couldn't at least tell me happy birthday?"

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, "I wanted to pull a sixteen candles moment."

"And what was that with the party?"

"You had to be distracted while Casey baked your cake."

You shook your head, "You really thought of everything, huh? It's perfect, Peter. Thank you."

"I, um, actually have one more thing for you."

"No gifts! This was already amazing."

"Well," he blushed, looking down at his feet, "It's more of a question."

"Okay..."

"Would you maybe want to go out on a date?" He asked so quickly, you almost didn't catch the question.

'Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,' was all that ran through your head.

"Or not! That's okay too, it's just Mr. Stark told me you liked me and I should make a move because I've liked you for years," Peter rambled.

Your heart literally melted at his words. He's liked you for years? And you didn't know? How stupid could the two of you be?

"Peter," you took his hand in yours, "I would love to go on a date with you."

"You would?"

"Absolutely," this time you looked away shyly, "I've liked you for a while too."

He smiled brightly, letting out a little sigh of relief.

It was right then you knew nothing would be able to top this, it was truly the best birthday ever.

Tagging: @fangirlwithasweettooth @bravest-at-heart @ravenclawmarvel @rachramblesstuff @angelhaz11 @fairytaleparker @parkerpuff @arielweasley @devildisguiseasangel​ @nedthegay​ @parkeroffline​ @petersmparker​ @lovinnholland​ @tomhollandsumbrella​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @babebenhardy​ @sleepybesson​ @its-the-unknownspidey​ @antoouu​ @petersstarcadet​ @thollandx​ @xxxxdelenaxxxx​ @smexylemony​ @kxrtwxgner​ @styles-balor4eva​ @80sthottie​ @meghan-8520xx​ @marshyrebelcloud​

[deniigi]

hannukah! for the Peters. Or just shenanigans with holidays is peachy

I literally spent hours today trying to find a Hanukkah sweater for my father, so anon. I feel this one deeply. Have some nonsense around gift-giving.

Just a note, Peter = Blondie in this

—

Gwen laughed when Miles showed her the gift he’d picked out for Peter B. He thought at first she was laughing at the lights tangled in the cotton balls attached to the Santa hat on the socks, but between gasping breaths she managed to wheeze out the real reason.

“B’s so Jewish, Miles,” Gwen said.

And just like that, Miles felt like the Red Sea had parted in front of him.

“Gwen,” he said. “I fucked up.”

—

Gwen could stop laughing any day now. Any. Any that she pleased.

“You—you—”

“Girl, I need you to help me,” Miles said.

“All of them, Miles. You got them all Christmas shit.”

He hadn’t known, okay? Like, he knew that his Peter was Jewish because he’d told Miles that he wasn’t going out as Spiderman on Yom Kippur and his headstone had had a Star of David on it, but even with that, Peter was really into Santa. Like, bizarrely into Santa.

Peter wanted to grow up to become Santa, he claimed. It was a life goal of his. He liked to show people his Christmas album and point to his half-assed Santa get-up on it while whispering ‘soon.’

It was hard to tell if he was fucking with people or if he legitimately wanted to be a jolly, white-haired, fat man when he got old. With Peter’s personality, it could go either way, but mainly his interest took the form of something bordering on an obsession.

MJ’s disgust for Santa was probably the thing fueling that, now that Miles thought about it.

The only thing keeping Santa out of Peter and MJ’s home décor year round was MJ’s complete refusal for anything red and white to enter their apartment without prior inspection.

Miles had just figured that this Santa thing, like the whole Friend-to-Small-Creatures thing, was a trait common to all Peter Parkers. And maybe he’d sort of fucked up and assumed that his was the only Jewish one, but any way around, it couldn’t be left to stand now. Corrections had to be made.

“Gwen, help me,” he said as pitifully as he could.

Gwen could not resist the puppy eyes. She tried to. She lasted ten seconds and a pouty lip.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But you’re gonna need to coordinate.”

—

MJ was always very helpful when Miles asked her things. She was nicer than she looked, unless she was with Peter. She bullied Peter in front of his friends but was (allegedly) super nice and patient with him when they were alone.

She was not Jewish. She just hated Santa.

“It’s an honest mistake,” she told Miles very kindly. “And given that our Peter’s…like that, I could totally see how you’d make it.”

“Should I just get them all menorah socks?” he asked.

MJ considered this.

“You could do that,” she said, “Or you could give them seven useless things and one thoughtful one. That’s what Pete and May do to each other. It’s kind of a competition for who can find the shittiest gift until the last night. Pretty sure last year we were dealing in real-life-sized cardboard cut-outs and twisted paperclips.”

Peter’s weird truly knew no boundaries.

“Okay, well, how about not?” Miles said. “How about only thoughtful gifts?”

MJ lifted an eyebrow.

“Chapstick,” she said.

Peter’s weird was kept in check purely by his wife’s relentless pragmatism.

—

Okay, so. Gifts decided. A menorah hat vetoed.

Gwen was real butt-hurt about the menorah hat thing. But they pressed on.

Gwen thought that it would be kind of cute if all of the Peters had matching Hanukkah socks. She thought that they would probably all like that. They had near-matching suits as a it was, which they all seemed to appreciate.

So socks it was. But then came the trouble of sizing.

“We need a shoe,” Gwen determined. “One from each of them.”

Miles was not stealing people’s shoes. That was weird.

—

So Miles was stealing people’s shoes now. It was weird. Gwen made it as weird as humanly possible by trying to fit one of her own shoes into each one they stole.

This unfortunate side effect aside, the nice thing about having Gwen along for this ride was that one of them could chat with the Spidey they’d targeted while the other stole the shoe.

It worked every time.

Miles was worried about these people. They literally did not notice people making off with their sneakers. That is, until they got to B. Nothing was ever easy when it came to B.

His shoes were guarded by his wife in the bedroom, who had understandable concerns about this particular type of thievery. She refused to give any of B’s sneakers, boots, or slippers to Gwen until Gwen fessed up as to what they were doing. This led to Miles trying to hold a long and awkward conversation with B in the other room while B cracked his DP’s back by walking on it.

“You doin’ anything for the holidays, Miles?” B asked casually over the swearing under him.

Miles couldn’t see DP’s face but he was positive that he was not enjoying this experience.

“Just, uh, not that,” Miles said.

He couldn’t look away.

“Oh, well. If you’re not doin’ anything, you’re always welcome here, kiddo,” B said. “We’re having Chinese food and watching Fast ‘n Furious 2. It’s gonna be fun. Get a couple of drinks in MJ and she’s got commentary that you wouldn’t believe.”

Miles did not doubt it.

“Are you guys doing, uh, Jewish things, too?” Miles asked.

B blinked at him.

“Like what?” he asked urgently.

Miles nearly flinched.

“I dunno,” he blurted out to cover for it. “I just thought that you’d do something. You know, Hanukkah and all that.”

B sighed in relief and Miles realized that he thought he’d missed something.

“I honestly don’t give much of a shit about Hanukkah,” B revealed with a shrug. “I mean, like, on the scale of things? Rosh Hashanah? Eons better. They don’t even compare.”

Miles did not know what that was.

“New Year,” B said. DP whined under the ball of his right foot. He shifted his weight to his left one.

Right. Cool.

Miles stood awkwardly watching DP pound a fist against the floor until Gwen hurried out from her interrogation session and announced that they had to bounce.

They said bye. B didn’t seem to notice.

—

Gwen had categorized all the Peters into Beefcake, Stringbean, and Silly Putty.

She claimed that these were the only categories that Spiderpeople could fit into and, on this scale, there was a correlation between age and category. The young were more likely to be stringbeans. The twenty-somethings tended to be silly putty. And the old folks were beefcakes.

She refused to answer any and all questions about Ham.

Miles sat up in horror upon wondering if human was kosher in Ham’s verse or not. Gwen told him to stop thinking and go back to writing out cards. She’d amassed what seemed like a billion pairs of blue socks. She was very busy making neat little packages for them out of wrapping paper.

After about an hour, they had before them a row of presents with names printed on them so that she and Miles didn’t mix any of them up.

“What now?” Miles asked.

Gwen beamed at him.

“Now,” she said. “We go in reverse. Gotta return all the shoes, remember?”

She’d kept.

The shoes.

Miles laid his head on his arms.

It was going to be a long night.

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 11

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Saturday (1 week to wedding)

Rose straightened with a groan, grabbing her wine glass and taking a large gulp.  She’d spent most of the day alternating between packing and questioning her life choices, as she prepared to move.  It wasn’t the most exciting way to spend a Saturday, her last as an unmarried woman (or, inevitably, a divorcée), but she had put it off for long enough. 

Tomorrow Malcolm, Mickey, Danny, and Pete would move out anything she wouldn’t need in her final week here; most of her clothing and some knickknacks would be going to Malcolm’s townhouse, while the rest returned to her parents’ house for storage.  Clara and Danny had more than enough in the way of furniture and furnishings, and she’d decided to clear out everything to allow it to truly become their own space, instead of making them feel like guests in what was now, essentially, their own home.

What they would all do in five years was anyone’s guess; so many things could happen between now and then Rose refused to dignify it with any thought – except for when the questions haunted her in the middle of the night.

She took another large swig of wine, unable to bring herself to regret skipping dinner as warmth rushed through her.

A knock on the door made Rose frown, and she hesitated until a second, more forceful bang on the door convinced her to move towards it.  “Who is it?”

“It’s me, open up,” Clara called.

Rose sighed, glancing between the door and her wine glass, finishing it off in one go before opening the door.  “What?”

She realized her mistake too late, as she found her mother, Clara, and several other female friends smiling on the other side, dressed up for a night out.

“No,” Rose said firmly, then spotted the ‘Bride’ sash tucked in the crook of Clara’s elbow.  “Oh, fuck no.”

Clara caught the door before it slammed in her face, wriggling her way inside.  “Oh, fuck yes,” she shook her head, artificial curls bouncing.  “C’mon, it’s your last weekend as a bachelorette, you should live it up!”

“I don’t want to, and I have a lot of packing to do,” Rose whispered, giving her friend a pleading look.  “Don’t make me do this.”

“It’s tradition!”  Clara tried and failed to match her volume, telling Rose that the partying had already begun.  “It’ll be fun.  We’ll go out, have a few drinks, maybe one last one-night stand?”

“I’ve never had a one-night stand, and I don’t intend to start now.  Besides, I’m getting married – to your father – next week,” Rose hissed back, conscious that Clara was the only person in the proposed party to know the truth.  “Stop it.”

“Rose,” her mother said firmly, eyes crossing slightly as she tried to focus, “stop being a wet blanket.  We want to celebrate you finally getting married.  This isn’t for you, it’s for us.  Now, get tarted up and let’s go.  You owe it to us.”

Rose sighed, not convinced but knowing she wasn’t going to win.  Jackie had made everything about this so far a Thing, whining over every choice Rose and Malcolm had made, first and foremost that she wasn’t being included in any of the decision-making.  Malcolm had insisted on footing the bill, letting Rose have whatever she wanted, though she’d insisted they make their choices together.  They’d decided the fairest thing would be leave everyone out of the planning, making all the decisions and arrangements themselves.

I know I should just be grateful she’s still talking to me, but still…

“Fine.”  Scowling, she opened the door wide and stepped back.  “C’mon in, I’ll just go get dressed.”  Not waiting until they entered she stalked off towards her bedroom, cognizant that Clara trailed behind her.  “What?”

Her friend was silent, settling herself on Rose’s bed as Rose opened her closet and started flipping through the dresses still hanging there.  “You know, if you’ve changed your mind, Dad would understand,” Clara said quietly. “He wants you to be happy, and so do I.”

“I made my choice.”  Rose clucked at the options in front of her; what twenty minutes ago she’d deemed too slutty for work were suddenly seeming perfectly tame.  “Really, I’m good.”

“Dad says you’ve been in a shitty mood all week.”

I’m marrying a man I love who doesn’t love me.  I’m scared that I’ve wasted the last five years of my life waiting for someone who will never want me, and that I’m going double or nothing on something that could never be anything.  I’m scared of missing my chance at real love, and happiness, and a family.

“I’m just stressed,” she sighed.  “With moving, then the wedding and the Gala…  There’s a lot going on right now.”  Picking a dress at random she started undoing her jeans; after four years of living together at uni and more than a decade of friendship, she had no issue with changing in front of Clara.

“If you’re sure,” her friend said cautiously.  “For the record, I think Dad’s really excited about having you in the townhouse.  He’s been fussing over everything, insisting it has to be perfect for you.  It’s cute.”

Rose smiled wistfully to herself, backing out of the closet and otherwise ignoring the comment.  “Zip me up?”

Clara rolled off the bed, and by the sound of it, it was a less-than-graceful move.  “Comin’.”  A moment later she zipped her up, and Rose turned for inspection.  “Is that what you want to wear?”

Rolling her eyes, Rose moved towards her bathroom.  “Yes.  Give me five more minutes.”

-

It was almost midnight when the first text came in.

Never been so bored at a club.  Am I getting old?!?!

Malcolm stared down at his mobile in bafflement, double checking that the message had come from Rose.

I thought you were packing tonight? he sent back, before setting it back on the sofa next to him.  The movie playing out on screen faded to the background as he waited for a response, worried- and somewhat concerned he was overreacting.

She can go out if she wants, he reminded himself firmly.  She doesn’t need me fussing over her.

To that end, he picked up the mobile again, hesitating a moment before sending another message.

Forget my last message.  Have a good time.

He hit send and immediately regretted it.  I don’t know how to do this.  A month ago if she’d texted him something like that they’d spent the next hour or so joking back and forth – but that was a month ago, and this was now, a week before their wedding.

Can I tell you a secret? was her response after an agonizing wait, and nothing like what he expected – he had, in fact, given up hope of any reply at all.

Of course.

It took seemingly forever for her to answer, but he daren’t give up – if Rose Tyler wanted to confide in him, not even death itself could stop him from being there for her.  Dramatic, much?

I’m… actually really happy we’re going to be living together.  Officially Clara’s my best friend, and she always will be, but… so are you.  I’m looking forward to spending more time with you out of the office, hanging out.  Watching a movie, dissecting the latest ep of Game of Thrones as it airs, cooking dinner together.

I just think it’ll be nice.

Sitting on his couch, Malcolm stared at his mobile, in equal parts awed, confused, and heartbroken.  Awed, because that was exactly how he felt, confused because how could someone like Rose, so caring and warm and sweet and funny and wonderful want to spend more time with him, and heartbroken because… she doesn’t love me.  That much was clear.  Obviously she cared for him, maybe even loved him, but that didn’t mean she was in love with him.

Eventually his brain rebooted enough to realize that was not a message to leave unanswered, and hurriedly pecked out, I wholeheartedly agree.  Really looking forward to it.

He fell asleep waiting to hear back.

-

Malcolm knocked on the door again, harder this time, and checked his watch.  Rose had strictly instructed him to be there at eight, and he’d been knocking off and on for several minutes – it was only a matter of time before her nosy neighbor rang the police, which was the last thing he needed or wanted.

Is she even here? he was starting to wonder; after not hearing back the previous night he was worried if it was just a hangover, or something more.

His mobile buzzed then, and he pulled it out to see a new message from Rose.  Clicking it open, he was confused to just see the word key.  What?  A moment later he understood, and found the spare key she’d given him years ago, just in case.

He’d never used it before.

Juggling the bag of baked goods and a tray of coffee he let himself in, dumping his backpack by the door and making his way through the flat.  “Rose?” he called quietly, sidestepping the veritable maze of mostly-full boxes.  “I brought coffee.”

A pitiful moan led him to the living room, where he leaned on the back of the couch and looked down to find a mess of blonde hair splayed out.  She was face down in the pillows, half falling off the couch, and he had to fight back a laugh at the adorably pathetic vision she made.  Out of habit his eyes flickered over her, down the back of her tight black dress, only to stop, breathless, at her bum.

Her bare bum.

By the time his heart restarted he realized she was, in fact, wearing a scarlet thong, which was visible because the hem of her dress had ridden up at some point.  His full senses returned then and he spun on his heel, stalking away and resisting the urge to adjust himself in suddenly uncomfortable trousers.  “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Once there he relinquished his death grip on the paper bag and carrier tray, setting breakfast carefully on the countertop.  The more he tried not to think about what he’d just seen the clearer the image was; her soft skin, the delectable curves- Stop perving on her, he told himself firmly, even as he wondered what other skimpy knickers she might have and- heaven help him- might even bring to the townhouse.  BEHAVE.

In an effort to distract himself he looked around the kitchen wildly, spotting a few gift bags down the other end of the island.  Mostly out of desperation he stuck his hand in the bag, closing around something and pulling it out, staring down blankly at it, blood rushing in his ears – and other bits.

“Um…”

His head snapped up in horror to find Rose, now with her dress lying flat on her thighs blimey could that be any shorter? standing in the doorway watching him.

“I can… this is not what it looks like,” he stammered, heart now racing in embarrassment.  “Really.”

Rose licked her lips, giving him a faint smile as she ran her hand through her hair and padded towards him.  “So you’re not standing in my kitchen holding a massive dildo my mates bought me?”  Her voice was raspier than normal, further evidence of her night of drinking, and he had to swallow twice before he could attempt an answer.

“Okay, maybe it is what it looks like.”  Glancing down at it again, he frowned.  “I dunno if I’d say it was massive.”  Then, face flushing further, he gingerly dropped it back into the bag.  “Sorry.”

She just hummed, reaching for one of the cups but hovering her hand just over it.  “Mine?”

“Yeah.”

Lifting it to her mouth she drank greedily, and he watched her throat work as she practically inhaled the coffee.  For fuck’s sake, did you wake up eighteen?  Pull your shit together he reminded himself firmly, pressing against the countertop to alleviate some of the pressure.

It didn’t work.

“Rough night?” he managed, inching down the island towards the as-yet untouched bag.  “Brought you a bear claw.”

“Mhmm, thanks,” she accepted it, ripping off a big bite.  “Yeah, you could say.  I was gonna just stay in and pack but Clara and Mum and a few mates showed up and dragged me out for a hen night.  Didn’t get in until two.”

He just nodded, entirely inappropriate thoughts swirling through his mind.  “Erm, can I ask- why the…”

“Dildo?” she finished helpfully, dragging herself up onto a barstool.  “That was Shireen’s gift.  She thought it might come in handy… just in case.”

“Just in case what?”  He knew the answer before he even finished asking, bristling.  “I’ll have you know, I have no trouble in that department,” he said stiffly, thinking of his current predicament.  “Believe me.”

Her smirk just grew, her eyes coming alive with a twinkle.  “If you say so.”

“I do!”

They stared at each other for a long moment, her look teasing, his indignant, before the reality of the conversation settled around them.

“Uh…”

“I need to go clean the club off me,” Rose stood.  “Thanks for the coffee. Give me ten minutes, then we can get started.”

“Okay.”  He watched her go, studying the way her skirt clung to her hips, before turning a glare on the gift bag.

“That may never happen between us,” Malcolm told it quietly, checking to make sure she was out of earshot, “but if it does, she sure as fuck won’t need you.”

[r3b3lgrrrrrrrl]

A LunaTic and her Gunn (Part 63)

"Making Up Isn't Hard To Do"

@creatureofthen1ght-v3

@lovemythsworld

@kellysimagines

@crystalbaby12

Colson's sitting at the kitchen table. Benny's still out with Casie, knowing to text before he heads back. Ashleigh is upstairs while Slim, Baze and Rook are gathered with him in the kitchen.

"So you think she fucked him?" Slim asks Colson. He likes Luna but she's always felt dangerous to him.

"No." Colson says shaking his head. He lights a joint. Inhaling deeply, he sighs out a giant cloud of smoke. "I think maybe she has feelings for him. She's been acting weird ever since she ran into him. And made it a point to tell me about him as soon as we were alone. Luna don't offer up shit." He sighs again as he exhales.

"Who is he?" Slim asks directly. Colson has talked to him about Luna and Justin. He heard her scream six years and did the math when Colson shouted about an undercover year.

"I don't know, Man." Colson tries to shake him off.

"Yeah, you do. Because I do. She cheated on her boyfriend with that dude, didn't she? That's why you're so pissed." Slim connecting the dots easily.

"I'M her fucking boyfriend." Colson snaps at him. Puffing on the joint.

"Chill, Mann." Slim says throwing his hands up.

"You know how to answer your question, Kells... " Rook speaks up. "Find out who stopped seeing who. If she broke it off you're in the clear. If it was him.... Maybe not. But, I don't think Luna's like that." Rook still defending her.

"She is like that. She fucked a dude for a year. Her other dude ever find out?" Slim turns to Colson, who's finishing up the joint.

"C'mon Slim... " Baze interjects. "Ain't one of us in here about to get Holy and act like we ain't never ran no long game with out getting caught." Baze states. "Besides, didn't he put her through some shit for a long time? So what if she fucked around with ONE dude. She rode with hers till his end." Baze has his own opinion of Luna. He likes that she doesn't take Kells shit but has never seemed to waver from him since the night of his birthday party.

Colson finally speaks, Baze's words sitting in his head.

"Watch it, Slim." He gives his friend A Look before continuing. "But nah, he never found out. She said Her Ashley don't even know. I'm the only one she's ever told." He looks back up glaring at them all. "So you better keep your fucking mouths shut." He warns.

They all agree with Yeahs and nods. How long they'll last, who knows?

"What's this LIFE shit she was talking?" Slim keeps pushing.

Colson shakes his head. "You know she's politically active, Dawg." is all he says as he gets up from the table and heads upstairs. Baze's words heavy on his head.

Everyone has a different opinion.

None of them knowing about Marissa, The Dark Web or who knows what else Luna has her hands in.

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

Luna hails a cab. She's furious. She doesn't go to her grandmother's. She doesn't hit up Ashley or Mackenzie or Pete. She doesn't hit up Tommy. Although she truly wants to punch him in his face and then fuck him.

Thinking vindictivly, as always when feeling attacked. "You think I did some shit. Okay. Imma pull some bigger shit."

But Luna's not 21 anymore. She'll be 27 soon. So, she has the cab take her to The Vale. After checking in, she throws on boy shorts, a spots bra, hoodie, her running shoes and ear buds. Placing a call to Monica in the mean time. It rings to voicemail. Luna turning her own ringer off before she heads out.

Prancing down the stairwell, she jogs through the lobby. Breaking free once she hits the cement. Running her raging heart out through The City.

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

Luna gets back from running, checking her phone, there's a Snap from Colson:

She strips down and Snaps him back before getting in the shower. Puffing on her pen all the while.

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

Colson opens Luna's Snap immediately.

Asking Ashleigh to keep an eye on Casie, he heads directly over.

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

Luna hears banging on the door from the bathroom as soon as she shuts the water off.

"Holy fucking shit..." She thinks to herself. Wrapping a robe around her to answer the door.

It's Colson, just as she suspected.

"Hi." She says flatly, allowing him to kiss her cheek.

"Can I come in?" He asks.

Stepping aside, he walks in. Bikini Kill filling the hotel room. Raw, Riot Grl Rage.

"Yeah, I'm fucked....." Colson thinks to himself.

She walks to the couch, curling up in the corner. There's a bottle of Jameson on the table.

"So, why you really mad at me?" Luna asks. Much looser and understanding after running, popping a bar and taking a shower. She lights a joint as he sits down with her.

"I don't know." He looks over at her before looking down at the ground. "I don't think I'm mad, I think I'm scared. I can feel how much you loved Justin and I guess, if you could do that to him.... What's stopping you from doing it to me..." He looks up at her, vulnerability raw.

Luna reaches for his hand as she passes him the joint. He hits it while she talks.

"Tommy and I only happened because Justin neglected me, himself and our life. On and off for a long time. I'll admit I'm an Asshole for it, but it wasn't out of malice. It was survival. And it's a guilt I carry heavily." She tells him, showing her own vulnerabilities. "You don't like that I can keep a secret, but what you don't understand, is that I'm not keeping any from you. I told you about Justin and Tommy because I wanted you to know. Not because I had to."

"So you would've lied about the picture?" He asks, feeling an irritation grow as he passes it back to her.

"No." She puffs on the joint. "But I could've side stepped it, told you he was an old friend who simply has a crush on me. All of which are true. But, I didn't. I gave you the details when it popped up in our life, BEFORE it went public, because I promised to NOT side step you and as I've told you before, I'm not going to vomit my life but as it flows, I'm going to give it to you." She pulls on the joint again before passing it back

Hearing her every word. He waits before asking "How did you and Tommy end?" He's hitting it now.

Luna grabs the bottle of whiskey. She has a tendency to look for a substance before exposing her truth.

"He told me he loved me and I knew that was unfair because I'd never leave Justin." She looks down with a sadness. Colson isn't sure if it's for Justin or Tommy.

"Did you love him?" Colson asks quietly as he hands her back the joint.

"Yes." She states. Looking him in the eye. She can't help but close hers as she inhales. Slowly exhaling, she opens them as she continues "But, I made a commitment to Justin and I would've traveled to the depths of hell with him. We've talked about this. How we're both loyal to a fault, and that it's a blessing and a curse. Tommy happened two years before Justin killed himself. With no one before or after him. I would've stayed with Justin forever. No matter what it cost me." Hitting it again, she passes it.

Colson's heart breaks for her. He'll never be able to understand how someone could be so careless with Luna.

"Do you love him more than me?" He asks before hitting the joint.

"Who?" Unsure of if they're talking about Tommy or Justin.

"Tommy." He says exhaling.

Luna closes her eyes again, thinking of her words. "There will always be a crazy connection between Tommy and I, but...." She climbs into Colson's lap. He's happy to have her back on top of him. "You have to think, I didn't go looking for him once Justin passed. At all. Thursday was the first time I seen him in almost 6yrs. I swear." Taking the joint, she pulls through the last few hits before putting it out.

"You scare me, Luna." Colson tells her honestly. This hurts her. She grabs the bottle for another swig before asking why.

"Because everybody wants you." He sighs.

"You can't act like you don't have admirers too...." She contests.

"Yeah, but I don't have personal relationships with them."

"Uhm... What is Bleta for 500, Alex?" She challenges him.

Her Jeopardy reference makes him laugh and wrap his arms around her. "Touché" He submits.

On his lap, in his arms, looking into those beautiful, blue eyes, she tells him. "Look, Bunny. Like I said before, I'm not perfect. I make mistakes, I'm an Asshole. I'm hella sorry for my betrayal of Justin hurting you. That's my Karma. But our relationship is different than his and I's. I just wish you could trust me. We've been dealing with this shit since the night at The Palms. I told you then. I'm always going to play a role. Same as you. Men are going to want me the way women want you. What we both need to always focus on and keep true to, is that we only go home to or with each other. And I did. I called you at the bar. And I Snapped you when I got back. I have nothing to hide."

He knows she's right. Exhausted from their fights, he pulls her in for a deep sweet kiss. She enjoys his warm tongue dancing in her mouth. Moving down to her neck, he slips her robe off her shoulders. Kissing her softly, he lays her back on the couch.

They move slow and delicate with each other. Soft, tiny kisses exchanged on their bodies. Deep understanding playing in their mouths.

Colson slides into Luna slowly. Working his way deep inside of her. He knows when he's hit her spot. Keeping her there, he feels her shake and cum off of his girth.

She pants "I love you" in his ear as he slowly rocks back and forth inside of her. Feeling his bare dick touch every inch of her insides.

Their love making is slow, deep and quick. Luna cumming again with him as he enjoys their tenderness. It's a delightful change of pace from their norma,l intense hunger - fucking.

Laying inside of her, cheek to cheek, he whispers "I'm sorry."

Stroking his back, she honestly tells him "Don't be." That she would've snapped too.

They're both intensely possessive. It's one of the things they love about each other.

They lay with him still inside of her. Where he belongs. Their love, understanding and acceptance of each other washing over them. She's happily wrapped around his body. Him laying contently on her chest. Almost drifting off, Luna's startled by Colson's body jumping.

"Fuck." Colson pops his head up. "What time is it?" He asks.

Luna checks her phone. It's 730P. Colson tells her they should get going. He gently shakes her, while slightly shouting "Yooou're LIVE ooon Saturday Night, Kitten!!!" Grinning.

She kisses him on the mouth, strong and solid. "I fucking love you, Colson." She tells him, staring into his eyes, she doesn't give a fuck about SNL, she only cares about where THEY land.

Colson pulls his t-shirt and jeans on while Luna throws on a wild concoction. She'll get dressed at the studio.

Luna stops Colson. Facing him with both her hands on his forearms. She looks clearly through his eyes into his soul.

"We're in this together. I'm not leaving. EVER. How you treat me and Us, will dictate whether we're beautiful or dark. Either way. I'm here." She pulls him down to her level. Kissing him solidly. A promise being solidified with it.

He scoops her up by her ass, pulling her into him firmly. Breathing her sweet sent in. It's a mixture of weed, coconut oil, cigarette smoke and Aveeno.

His dick rages for her. Knowing in his heart, he's the only one she wants.

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

They leave the hotel and head to 30Rock, it's a little after 8P and Luna's facing one of the biggest performance of Ashley and her careers.

Luna turns to Colson in the cab. She touches his face lightly as she looks into his eyes. "I love - LOVE you." She tells him honestly with a kiss. His heart swells, knowing their truth as they step out onto 48th street.

Colson grips her ass cheek to her pussy's pleasure as they walk to 30 Rockefeller Plaza.

THEY'RE PERFORMING LIVE FROM NEW YORK ON SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE!!!!

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

To be continued....

[mariellewritesalot]

Notes on the Romantic Narrative

As an homage to my favorite film of all-time “Silver Linings Playbook” finally being on Netflix, and a coping mechanism to everything I’ve been feeling as of late: I am writing to you about some musings I’ve been making and breaking for the past few months. About love, or lack thereof, in my life. 

First, to give you an image of how I pay attention to detail in life and movies, I will start with a few reasons why I love this gem despite the huge changes they made on screen vis-à-vis the novel: 1) It portrayed mental illnesses in a way that didn’t feel pushy or overly-romanticized: healing is not linear, 2) Pat’s character development throughout the film was the epitome of his motto (and mine), “Excelsior”, 3) I love how the story sort of revolved around the Eagles and football to anchor the heaviness of the entire plot line, 4) The casting!!! I mean, wow, and 5) It makes you believe in silver linings, even in the safest sense of the idea, not too grand and definitely not perfect. Safe. Who could forget that scene where Pat runs after Tiffany with his letter? The relief we all felt knowing that her hard work and feelings were not for naught? If you haven’t seen it, I hope you have the time to. It’s a moving film, honestly.

Anyway, I digress. I am going to go personal in this bit and I might not like it, too. I am stating the obvious when I say that I am a hopeless romantic and that I tend to look at life in rose-colored glasses. Some probable reasons are because my parents have the kind of love story that really makes you believe in fate and second chances, plus the fact that I grew up with romantic films, songs, and books. I was sold to the fairy tale idea of happily ever afters despite the proof that it doesn’t apply to everyone in real life. I wanted my own story to tell. After all, I am a writer. I live for the things worth telling.

Nowadays, I also spend a lot of my time online where my timeline is bombarded with couples or romantic gestures, as if the algorithm is working against the realist in me. I can’t say I hate it, because one thing I get from this mindset is the tendency to highlight the good things, both in people or situations. The “too kind for my own good” complex. The only downside is that I may get disappointed more times than I should. It’s a tricky predicament if you think about it in my context: I grew up with mostly men in the house, in my own bubble, going through life thinking that somebody is going to sweep me off my feet, backed up by High School Musical films and the media pushing love teams down our throats...but then it hits me in real life as I grow older: movie moments do happen in real life, but they aren’t as common as they make it out to be, they’re the exception to the rule. They are as rare as they come. 

Some of us aren’t as lucky.

In reality, when the hurt runs too deep, it feels almost impossible to rise above it. The hopeless romantic dies out and is replaced by a semi-angry realist, tired of how the world consistently proves that it moves in circles. They become someone who occasionally relapses into that romanticized haze every once in a while because it gets lonely. When you’ve fallen in love a few times in life, it’s hard not to expect yourself to fall into a trap, any moment now. The withdrawals grow stronger just when you’re starting to get the hang of things. It’s an exhausting ordeal, if you ask me, turning numb but knowing that you can’t shake off the romantic within when it resurfaces in the most inappropriate of moments.

I used to think that I’d be one of the lucky ones who meet the love of their life early on; someone who’s capable of being in a long-term relationship in college or maybe even after...and I still think I am, but maybe I haven’t met him yet. Maybe I have, but the timing is off or we just don’t know it until a little further down the road. Now I’ve been single for too long, and there is nothing wrong with it, just the fact that the trauma I went through has really soiled my chances of healing fast; more from the events than the actual person who did the hurting. Being here though, I am able to see how I am in a generation where #hugot culture is the norm, relationships are only as good as they are on social media, and 80% of young people are desperate to find love or at least a semblance of it. It’s nauseating, accidentally giving into the “sana all” culture and thinking I am incomplete if I don’t have someone who’s technically obligated to care for me, vice versa. I am not a fan of it, but it’s not exactly easy to exclude myself from a narrative I have been in for years. I wish it didn’t feel so off.

Because...hey, there are pros to being single. For starters: I am young. I don’t have to worry about it yet at least for the next ten years or so. I am not supposed to have the same timeline as other people. I can go to bed without worrying about somebody else. I don’t have to ask for anyone’s approval. I have more time for the things I love doing. I am not being emotionally abused or taken for granted or cheated on, which were common themes in my past relationships. It’s a treat, until I am once again hooked by the media I consume and made to think that there’s more to life than being alone.

Maybe it’s the fact that I spent half of this year trying to get over the one I thought was the love of my life, or how I’m spending the other half denying to myself that I may be having feelings for a person and consciously running away from them through various coping mechanisms I never thought I’d use. Love is a gray area right now because I don’t see myself being in a relationship anytime soon, but if I ever do, I’d want something serious. I love meeting new people right now, but at the same time, my comfort zone feels good. I find that it helps tone down my anxiety when I am in control. I’m proud of myself for choosing to navigate through life by my own right now, turning down people who want to become a part of it for my sake and theirs. I just have a lot on my plate. Although I do believe that I’ll never be ready. No one ever is, but I want to put my faith in timing. I just have to learn the ropes here first. I hate that everyone around me is rushing because I feel like I’m that person being squeezed into the middle of the crowd in a mosh pit. I am choosing to make sure I am a better person than I was first before I dive into it, head first.

So yeah. Lloyd Dobler is not going to blast In Your Eyes by Pete Gabriel on a boombox outside my bedroom window (though I’d love Closing Time by Semisonic more). Dylan Harper is not going to organize a flash mob to tell me he made a mistake. Patrick Verona is not going to hack into the school speakers and sing to me at the football field. Troy Bolton is not going to show up outside my window to apologize, armed with Margherita pizza and chocolate covered strawberries. Ted is not going to steal a blue french horn for me. Johnny Castle is not going to dance with me in front of everybody to prove our love. Chuck Bass is not going to buy me a ring and carry it around even when we aren’t together anymore, hoping for the chance to get me back. Augustus Waters is not going to show up with orange tulips and a trip to Amsterdam. Pat Soltano is not going to run after me with a love letter he wrote a week ago...and I’m okay with it. I don’t want to buy into the notion that I need saving, or that I can be swayed by gestures that can so easily be just a move to win me over with no follow-through. I don’t want to be put on a pedestal, anyway. Also...sometimes, it’s in the little things. We fall in love with the way people remember something we said to them months ago, the way they show up after a long day, and the way even the tiniest gestures feel so big it fills up everything else.

I feel like one day I’ll be given the love I deserve and I don’t have to yearn for movie scenes like the art geek I am. You see, what makes love stories unique is the fact that it happens when you least expect it. Grand romantic gestures are welcome, but they aren’t really the basis of how deep love could be. I could only hope to be with someone who speaks my love language or at least tries to understand it. Until then...I’ll keep relearning everything until I make sense of what I truly want out of love and its intricate mess of a web.

I’ll love; even without pretense, without hope or agenda, without expecting the universe to give me back everything like it owes me.

[themadlostgirl]

NDY AU (6)

*New story will get posted after I finish this au. Which should only be 2-3 chapters max. Original plan was for it to end at six but I got carried away as I do.*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: language, mentions of abuse

I wish I could say that things were perfect that next day. I really do. I woke up for school well rested, save for the nightmare. I was renewed and full of energy. It felt like nothing could touch me. I dare to say that it felt like I was floating. I was in the soaring through the clouds as happy and carefree as possible.

That was until I got to school. Leave it to that cesspool of stress and hormones to drag you crashing down to reality. I waited at my locker but Peter didn’t show up. I chalked it up to him maybe oversleeping and continued on. But he wasn’t in class or at lunch. When I texted him they went unanswered.

Where was he? He had better not be ditching school again. But if he was he’d still text me back. There’s something else going on here.

After school let out I caught a wind of good luck. The Anderston twins were sick so I didn’t need to watch them.

I tried calling Peter but it went straight to voicemail. I started to worry and found a phone book. Good thing there was only one Pangle in Storybrooke. I copied down the address and started walking. It was in a weirdly remote out of the way place. Took me over half an hour to walk there from the school. It would take even longer from my house. I know Peter doesn’t have a car and I don’t think he takes the bus so I have to wonder how he gets around. Does he really walk all this way to get to school and back? Or my house and back? What about when we were in the woods? He’d be walking miles upon miles with a house this far out!

There weren’t really any other houses around. I was on a dirt road surrounded by forest everywhere. I found the mailbox labeling Peter’s address on it. It was a crummy rusted thing that looked like a small gust of wind would topple it to the ground.

A sinking feeling started to weigh on me as I walked down the long driveway. The shadow of a house becoming larger in the distance.

Peter was right about it not being a great place. Lawn was overgrown with piles of scrap metal littering it, a rusted pick-up sat off to the side of the house. I couldn’t tell if it was driveable or just more junk.

I walked up onto the porch of the house, if you could call it that. It looked like it might have been a nice home at one point but years of no upkeep and harsh weather had eroded away anything homely. The siding was faded and just plain missing in some parts. The porch was half rotted and creaked and bent under my weight. A few of the windows had been broken and then boarded up with tarp and wood. Even the front door was crooked and covered in mold.

Peter lives here? Surely there had to be some kind of mistake. It didn’t look like anyone lived here.

Nervously I knocked on the door praying that no one would answer and that I could leave this place. Unfortunately for me I heard something. The sound of heavy footsteps and a gruff voice grumbling about as they shuffled to the door. It opened and I was met with a broad, heavy set, balding man. He was your stereotypical white trash. A liberally stained wife beater, sour expression, beer in hand, and stench of twenty packs of cigarettes.

“What do you want?” he snapped at me.

“Mr. Pangle?” I tried to hold my breath so I wouldn’t breathe in the terrible smell emanating from the house or maybe it was just him.

“Who wants to know?”

“I was looking for Peter.”

“Hmph,” he frowned and turned around into the house and shouted, “Pete! Get your ass down here!”

“What the hell for?” I was relieved to hear Peter’s voice yell back.

“Some bitch here looking for ya!” Was the foul name really necessary?

The man, Peter’s father I had to assume, looked back at me. Before when he only saw me as a nuisance I was fine, now his eyes slid over me from head to toe. Then he smirked. But it wasn’t the cute kinda smirk Peter got when he’s was being an adorable idiot. This made me want to puke and run away so that he could never see me ever again.

I about nearly cried in relief when I saw Peter finally get to the door. “Y/N.” his face lit for a moment before he looked at his dad. He looked back at me with a cold fury in his eye. “Come here, pet.”

He grabbed me and started ushering me away from the house. “Come back soon, pet.” his father called after us and I stumbled as the nickname shot through me. I think I was actually going to hurl.

“Ignore him,” Peter muttered and kept pulling me until we were far away from the house. “What are you doing here?” He asked once we were gone.

“You didn’t come to school today. I wanted to make sure you weren’t sick or something.” I answered. I stared in horror at his face. His right eye was a deep purple and badly swollen. “What the hell happened to you? I thought we agreed no more fights.”

“Don’t worry about it.” he shrugged, “How did you know where I lived?”

“Phonebook.”

“I appreciate the concern and all but you really shouldn’t have come here.”

“Because of your dad?” There was no easy way to avoid it. “Is he the one that gave you that shiner?”

That anger from before overtook him again and his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles went white. “Jim is a piece of shit. I wanted to make sure you would never have had to meet him.”

“He’s the one who--” A chill went down my spine, “You don’t get into fights with kids from school, do you?”

“Jesus...” Peter took a deep breath and his hands unclenched. “Y/N, I like you and it makes me really happy to know that you were willing to make a house call for me but I never want you to come here again. Got it?”

“Peter--”

“I mean it. This place, it’s where I sleep and keep my things. That is it. It is not a home, certainly not one I want you entering. Promise me that no matter what you won’t come back here.”

“You can’t expect me to just ignore--”

“Y/N,” Peter grabbed my shoulders, “Please do this for me. Never come here. Not for anything.”

“Okay,” I could see how serious this was to him. “I won’t. Not that I would want to I suppose. The amount of mold makes it a fortress of disease.”

“I know. The urge to torch it with Jim blacked out in his recliner is so tempting.”

“Now don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Cause if you get caught and go to prison then we can’t do this.” I pulled him down for a kiss.

“A very good reason indeed.” he grinned before pulling me in for a longer kiss. “Was that the real reason you came here? Needed your daily dose of Peter?”

“Can’t live without it.” I chuckled as he started pressing sloppy, tickling kisses to my neck. “Knock it off.”

“I thought you couldn’t live without it.” He murmured before claiming my lips again, “You truly are the gentle breeze in the shit storm that is my life.”

“Your life isn’t a ‘shit storm’, as you so eloquently put it.”

“You saw what I have to live with. A shit storm is the nice way of phrasing it.” He sighed. He caught me staring at his bad eye and promptly turned me around. “Wanna take a walk?”

“Sure.” I grabbed his hand and we started walking down the road. Peter didn’t want to talk about what had happened back at his house anymore and I couldn’t blame him. No wonder he spent all his time in the forest if that was the other alternative.

Before I left he made me promise not to tell anyone about what I had seen. I tried to argue that this wasn’t healthy and that he didn’t need to live like this. He shouldn’t be living with someone that is hurting him! It’s illegal!

But if Peter is anything it is stubborn. He kept repeating that nothing would come of it. Nothing good at least. Say they did get Jim arrested then Peter would have nowhere to live. He’d get put in the foster system and most likely taken out of Storybrooke. Before maybe it would have been fine but now he had a real reason to want to stay. Me.

“I want you to be safe.” I grumbled after he brushed off my suggestion once more, “No matter where it might take you. So long as you aren’t suffering with this.”

“You are too good to me,” he kissed my forehead, “Sappy, I know, but it’s the truth.”

“Maybe we could just run away. Leave this stupid town and these terrible people behind. Catch a bus to Boston and lease some crappy apartment far away from this place.”

“It’s nice to dream those things.”

“Do they have to be a dream? Can’t it be real?” I whispered. The idea taking root in my mind.

“You mean actually run away?” Peter furrowed his brow.

“Why not?”

“Y/N, pet, I love that I’m a terrible influence on you but what you’re talking about is insane.”

“Why’s it insane?”

“Because, unlike me, you actually have a life here. You have school and your family and your job. If you ran off with me--”

“I can get my GED anytime and I can get another job. One that pays more than a small town babysitter.”

“And your parents?”

“I love them but they’ve never really been a part of my life. We see each other and make small talk but other than that they are far too wrapped up in their own lives. The thought of leaving them doesn’t scare me.”

Peter kept staring at me. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thought about what I said. He took my hand and squeezed it. “When do you want to leave?”

“You mean you’d really--”

“Nothing holding me to this dumb town.” he smirked. “So when should we go?”

We started talking about everything we would need and when we thought we could leave. There was no need to second guess. Something in me told me that this thing between Peter and I was right. It was solid. We could make it on our own if only we could get out of this town. There would be nothing to be afraid of.

He walked me to my street and we kissed goodbye. He promised to text me about any updates on a ride out of Storybrooke. Since buses out of town don’t run here we’d have to get a car or something. Apparently that junky old pick-up in Peter’s yard was operational but would definitely need some TLC before it was ready to drive long distances.

That night I stayed up making a list of everything that needed done and what we would need to pack. The smile on my face as I thought about what the future held stayed on my face even when I went to bed.

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