#sugar bowl postponed today

[trendsnews24]

At least 10 killed in New Orleans after driver intentionally rams into crowd on Bourbon Street

Read More

[darkmaga-returns]

A bad moon has risen over the United States of America at the beginning of the New Year, resulting in a slaughter of civilians and the postponement of one of America’s premier mass spectacle Roman colosseum-type games, the college football “Sugar Bowl.”

The supreme colosseum spectacle of them all, the “Super Bowl,” is scheduled to take place February 9 at the aptly named Caesar’s Superdome, roughly 1.5 miles from the site of today’s massacre.Washington D.C., December 31, 2024, 5:36 p.m. Eastern Standard Time

“Psychic Driving” at its “Peak”

On December 31, 2024—New Year’s Eve—lightning struck the US Capitol building and the masonic Washington monument.

Nearly 11 hours later, the “terrorist attack” in New Orleans, the “Crescent City,” occurred on January 1, 2025—New Year’s Day— around 4:15 a.m. EST. “FBI Houston” Press Release: In collaboration with the Harris County Sheriff's Office, the FBI conducted an investigation near the intersection of Hugh Road and Crescent Peak Drive in north Houston this afternoon. This operation was connected to the morning's terrorist attack in New Orleans.

The site of theNew Orleans attack was Bourbon Street in the French Quarter, near both Marie Laveau's House of Voodoo, also located on Bourbon Street, and around the corner from JFK assassination conspirator Guy Banister's former headquarters (now demolished), at 531 Lafayette Street.

Many questions remain and any rush-to-judgement concerning the alleged suspect, Shamsud-Din Jabbar, impedes the acquisition of investigative knowledge independent of Establishment sources.

Online, click bait con-men will claim to have inside knowledge of the event, or of the suspect.

Cryptocracy assets meanwhile, are often assigned the task of muddying the waters, with each asset seeming to authoritatively putting forth with didactic certitude an assertion concerning the attack or the supposed attacker.

[meowmaids]

The city acknowledged it was a terror attack before the fbi conceded this point today in a press conference

it is so sad ppl are more upset at the postponement of sugar bowl than the loss of human life.

Jesus christ

[dayenurose]

Writer’s Month Prompt (written for @writersmonth )

Day 6 - Married Life (Romy)

Rogue woke up slowly. With the blackout curtains drawn, their bedroom was plunged into a murky darkness which made determining the time difficult. She knew she’d slept in, but wasn’t certain how long. Since neither she nor Remy had X-Men related responsibilities today, they’d turned off their alarms in hope for a proper lie in.

Dragging sheets and blankets with her, Rogue rolled towards her husband’s half of the bed. Instead of snuggling against Remy’s back and feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin material of his t-shirt, she found herself alone.

Well, alone might be a bit of a misnomer. Lucifer, Oliver, and Figaro filled the space vacated by her husband. Their company, while affectionate, really wasn’t what she’d been after.

“Hrrmph,” she sighed, blowing the white fringe out of her eyes. While the bed was warm and comfortable, staying here alone wasn’t how she wanted to spend her day off.

Stretching languidly, she raised her arms high over her head and arched her back. She’d surely be giving the cats a run for their money, if they’d been motivated to do more than lounge lazily on the bed. Lucifer briefly opened his eyes and mewed in irritation as if her movement had all been in an attempt to hustle the cats out of bed. She smiled fondly at the trio.

“Fine with me if you want to sleep in, but I’ve got things to do, a husband to find.” Rogue slipped out of bed and slipped on her robe. The inviting aroma of frying back and brewing coffee beckoned her into the kitchen.

Bacon and coffee appeared to be only the start of the morning offerings. Remy had prepared a full on southern breakfast—including (but, not limited to) fluffy scrambled eggs, savory white gravy, and from scratch biscuits, still warm from the oven and waiting in a teacloth covered basket. If she wasn’t mistaken, further down on the counter, in the bowl he used most often for beignets, there was dough on rise.

While she might not be much of a cook—especially compared to her husband—she was no slouch when it came to making a classic southern breakfast. She knew there was nothing quick about making such a feast. The beignets alone took a couple of hours to rise before they could be fried.

“Mornin’ sugar.” Rogue drawled. Coming up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and breathed in his fresh, clean scent of his skin. He definitely been up for a while.

“Mornin’ chère.” The deep thrum of his voice sent delighted shivers to dance up her spine. Remy turned and raised an eyebrow in a silent query. She nodded, letting him know she felt secure in her control of her powers, then lifted her face towards his. The unspoken conversation was so routine it passed without conscious thought. In a fluid motion which hadn’t ceased since he began his turn, Remy brushed a quick kiss across her lips before turning his attention back to the crowded stovetop.

A small whine escaped her lips at the loss of his touch. While she might wish to prolong the kiss, it was either turn off the burners and continue the embrace, or postpone the kiss and finish cooking. Since breakfast appeared moments from completion, and her stomach grumbled in a Pavlovian response to the heavenly aromas, she could wait a few moments to finish the embrace.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Instead, Rogue kept her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against the planes of his back for a moment later. She relaxed into the familiarity of his presence and found a modicum of peace in the steady rhythm of his movements.

“I tried.” He chucked. “Mais, you took exception to the hour and took a swing at me.”

“No,” Rogue gasped in horror. Grabbing his arm she forcibly turned him away from the stove so she could get a better look at his face. Freshly shaven and as handsome as ever, Remy appeared to be none the worse for the wear. There had been a few unfortunate instances since they started sharing a bed when she accidentally punched or kicked him as her limbs flailed about in her sleep. What for most would be a minor annoyance, for her it could be dangerous when her subconscious mind failed to regulate her super strength.

“‘M fine, chère. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got quick reflexes and managed to duck out of the way before any damage was done.” He turned off one of the burners before taking a moment to wrap his arms around his wife and press a kiss to the crown of her head. Grinning at her, mischief danced in his eyes. “Though you did say something about popping me one if I didn’t leave you be.”

Rogue buried her face in her hands and groaned. “I swear, I was asleep. I don’t remember any of that.”

“I thought it was cute.” He grinned cheekily and turned back to attend to his last burner. “Figured that the scent of breakfast would eventually draw your lazy bones from bed.”

She made a face. “My bones aren't lazy.”

“I know.” He gave her hand a squeeze as he lifted it to press a kiss across his knuckles. She never tired of his touch. “Do you mind setting the table?”

“Course not, swamp rat.” The reminder of how easy it was to hurt him played heavily on her mind as she gathered silverware and napkins. After a few trips between the kitchen and dining room, the table was set save for a few items. She placed the plates beside the stove, so Remy could fill them as he finished cooking. As for the coffee, her husband had already helped himself to a serving, so she poured her own mug and leaned against the counter. She watched him work with easy, competent movement.

“Rems, I’m serious. I could hurt you….” Her body held the possibility of easily hurting him and their happily ever after could be finished before it scarcely begun.

“I’m fine, mon coeur. I know the risks. It’s not like living with me is safe as houses either. I've got days too when control seems beyond my grasp.” He began to plate their breakfast, filling their dishes to near over flowing. “Besides, you know I don't mind cooking for you. In fact, it’s been a while since I’ve been able to spoil my wife.”

Her stomach growled again. Rogue pressed a hand to her stomach to quell the noise. Seriously, it wasn’t like she never ate. Then again, Remy’s food really was second to none and it had been far too long since they shared a meal like this. Of course, in her ever so humble opinion, even a single day without her husband’s cooking was far too long a gap. And he was right, it had been a while since they'd been able to have a relaxed meal with each other. Their schedules rarely lined up these days and she missed him like a piece of her soul was missing.

“Go on, have a seat,” he urged. “I’m right behind you.”

“Love you too, Rems.” Knowing full well that he was watching, she put an extra sway to her hips as she walked.  

Remy groaned. “That’s it. After breakfast, we’re going back to bed.”

“Good. That’s the plan.” Rogue grinned at her husband. The ‘v’ of her robe loosened and gave him a glimpse of the swell of her breasts under her pajamas. At the sight, his eyes widened and he gripped the back of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

Coming up behind her, he set the plates on the table. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, then traced feather-light his fingers down the lines of her arms, until his thumbs rested lightly over her palms. The movement brought his face down towards her. When she tilted her head back, she stared directly into the red depths of his eyes. Her husband peppered her lips with kisses. Once. Twice. Thrice.

“Bon appetite, Mrs. LeBeau,” he whispered in a breathless, husky voice. His fingers ghosted lightly over her wrists.

At his cue, she released a trickle of her powers and absorbed the freely given swell of his emotions and memories. She wished she could feed her own memories back to him so he could experience the same heady rush of love and connection.

“I love you too, Mr. LeBeau,” she murmured between kisses, trying to steal a few more before breakfast grew cold.

Despite the struggles of powers and an X-Men schedule determined to keep them apart, Rogue would trade married life with Remy for the world.

[nelapanela94]

Isabel Ackerman was sitting on the wing chair pouting, feet hanging, angrily looking at you on the entryway as you desperately searched in the wardrobe for a matching jacket.

You were running late for the meeting and the last thing you wanted to was to deal with one of your daughter's tantrums. The 4-year-old raven-haired had fair reasons to be angry, though; you had promised her to bake cookies together that Saturday morning, but you just couldn't postpone the event. Meanwhile, Levi was concentrated on his book laying on the sofa with the back resting on the arm chair, turning a deaf ear to the situation. It had nothing to do with him anyway.

"Isabel" you sighed. "We can bake cookies tomorrow"

"But I want cookies today!" The little girl barked.

"Don't raise your voice at me, young lady. I already explained to you why we can't bake cookies today" you replied with a tone of authority, and put the jacket on glancing at your reflection in the mirror for a last quick check. "You and dad can make cookies together then"

"But they don't taste good!"

You snorted, trying to hold back your laughter.

"Tch" Levi grumbled. His good eye darted from the book towards his daughter, a frown forming on his face. "Oi!"

"Have fun you two" You waved at the two ravenettes and closed the door behind.

Isabel whined, arms crossed over the chest. The man placed the book on the table and stood up. He was determined to prove his child wrong.

"Oi, brat! Get your apron" He bossed and walked to the kitchen with some effort.

"Mom doesn't like you calling me brat" She scolded jumping off the chair, and followed him.

"Keep it a secret, or I'll tell mom you peed the bed last night"

The child looked down in embarrassment, her cheeks turning slightly red. "Please don't tell her" she mumbled. Her jaw quivered as she was about to cry.

"Let's make a deal, then" She raised her head at her father's voice. "You keep your mouth shut, I keep my mouth shut, understood?"

The little girl rubbed her eyes and nodded.

She dragged the wooden stool, put it next to her father and climbed up. Levi put all the ingredients on the counter top: flour, sugar, eggs, butter, vanilla extract, chocolate chips, baking powder; as well as a bowl and a spatula. He rolled up his sleeves and proceeded with the preparation. Chocolate chip cookies couldn't be that hard.

Isabel dubiously looked at Levi as he put all the ingredients in the bowl. She didn't know the recipe by heart, but remembered her mother adding the ingredients one after the other, instead of throwing all at once. "Mmm, dad…"

"I know what I'm doing brat" He growled at the lack of faith from the mini version of him.

And just as expected, the first batch turned out to be a utter mess. He tried again, but left them for too long in the oven and when they cool down, they were hard as a rock.

Another batch to the trash.

For the next attempt, the butter was too softened; and the following, he added too much baking powder. Too much flour, too little flour. But he gave it another try, and the last batch that came out from the oven looked pretty decent.

Isabel grabbed one, sniffed it twice and took a bite.

Levi didn't need to ask. Shaking her head in disapproval with the nose scrunched was enough of an answer. Putting his hands on the counter, he sighed.

"I'll tell mom to ban you from the kitchen" She accused, squinting the eyes.

"Tch" He glanced at her with his brows furrowed.

Levi took a look around, flour scattered on the floor and crusts of dough stuck on the counter top, there was a lot work to do before you got back home.

"Oi brat, let's clean this up"

"Why me? You made this mess not me!" Isabel retorted, earning a glare from her father. "I'll get the cloths" she gulped.

When everything was sparkly and immaculate, they visited the pastry shop at the end of the street. "We should've come here in the first place" Isabel said, taking a bite of her second serving. Levi hissed, but couldn't agree more. "Don't eat them all, those are for mom too"

By the end of the afternoon, you finally came back home to find your husband and daughter soundly asleep on the couch. The corners of your mouth quirked up in a tender smile. Carefully, you walked past the living room as quiet as possible to not wake them up and made a stop at the kitchen. There was a little tray with two cookies served as well as a glass of warm milk, and a note written in your child's sloppy handwriting. 'for mommy' you read.

You examined the cookies in disbelief. They looked and smelled good. Too good, in truth. But as soon as you bit one, you immediately recognized the familiar taste and chuckled.

"You cheaters"

[takingcourage]

A Bushel and a Peck

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 1,850

Summary: After receiving payment for a job, Jaime and Arden get a little more than they’ve bargained for.

Note: Thanks, as always, to @krishu213​ for her request of “The smell of nutmeg and cloves around every corner” for Jaime and Arden. The prompts you choose are always so much fun! : ) 

Fiddling with the drawstring on her jacket, Arden raised her eyes toward the seasonal menu. It was all for show -- she’d known exactly what she was getting before she’d set foot in the shop -- but Friday afternoons always left her a little antsy and eager for home. As the woman in front of her stepped aside to wait for her drink, Arden exchanged smiles with the barista behind the counter. 

“The usual?”

“Please. Thanks, Stephanie.”

“Extra shot today?”

Arden’s lips pursed with momentary indecision. “Sure -- why not?” 

“It’ll be out shortly.” 

After completing her transaction at the register, Arden migrated toward the other end of the counter. A subtle vibration came from the front pocket of her bag, and she quickly withdrew her phone. 

Any plans for the weekend?

She smiled instinctively at Jaime’s text. Did you have something in mind? My schedule is surprisingly flexible. 

Good to know. 

Her brow was still crinkled at the cryptic text when she went forward to retrieve her drink, and things only grew stranger as she made her way back out of the shop and into her vehicle. If she’d been in a more present state of mind, she would have noticed the hints of nutmeg and vanilla that wafted up from the tiny hole in the lid when she took her first blissful sip. As it was, her thoughts were too trained on the mysterious message from her husband. 

Care to share?

I’ve got a project in mind for tomorrow. 

She swallowed a bit too much with her next sip. Had she been a less-experienced drinker, it might have burned on the way down, but she’d been immune to the heat for years. When her phone remained still, she settled back against the seat, slotted the keys into the ignition, and made her way toward home. 

Jaime was waiting for her in the kitchen, his hand slicing the air as he beckoned her in to join him. “You know those repairs I was doing for Mrs. Ellis this week?” 

Arden nodded and kicked her shoes into the corner of the dining room. 

“She couldn’t stand not being able to pay me for them, so she found another method of compensation.” 

That method became abundantly clear as Arden tiptoed onto the tile. From wall to stove, their counter was covered with heaping paper bags. “She gave you a kitchenful of apples?” 

“Two bushels,” he confirmed. 

She crossed to the nearest bag, hooking the side with an inquisitive finger. “Does she think we’re feeding the whole city? What on earth are we going to do with two bushels of apples?”

“I misspoke earlier -- it’s not actually quite that many. I did manage to give  a couple dozen away...”

“We’re two people, Jaime!” she interjected, turning away from the counter to face him. “I don’t think it’s possible for us to eat this many apples if we tried.” 

Jaime rubbed the furrow from her brow with a gentle thumb, then braced a hand on each shoulder. “That’s why I thought we could make a challenge out of it: we’ll see how many things we can make with them in a weekend. Apple butter alone will get us through at least a quarter of them, and we can make applesauce and pie filling too.” 

At the glimpse of his earnest brown eyes, the hilarity of the situation somehow caught up to her in a breathless laugh. “Jaime, this is ridiculous. We can find people to give them to --” 

“Or,” he countered, pausing for a moment in apology for cutting her off. “Or we can make them into something special before we give them away. But I need you with me on this. I don’t know if I can get through them all on my own.”

It was a hollow statement; Jaime was eminently capable of getting through anything he set his mind to, but she wasn’t going to leave him to drown in apples on his own. 

“We need a game plan,” she replied, words already a little distant as she circled the room in search of a pad of paper. Finding an unopened envelope on the table, she began making a list. “If you find the recipes you want, I’ll write down the ingredients we need. We can make a quick run to the grocery store, then pick something up for dinner.” 

Chinese. 

Arden chuckled at the silent interjection. “...then pick up Chinese for dinner. Are you trying to appease me for putting up with you?”

“Nope.” This time, his words were audible. “I’m just taking care of my wife.”

By the end of the evening, they’d accounted for every single apple. Double checking the recipes over cartons of takeout, the two of them shared more than a handful of giggles over the sheer absurdity of the situation. 

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” 

-----

By noon on Saturday, they'd enlisted her father’s help with peeling and slicing -- a process that would have been much faster if the Harry hadn't insisted on tossing pieces of discarded peel to the floor for Opie instead of into the bag for composting. Between the dog's valiant attempts to catch them and Jinx's determination to steal them from under his nose, the whole scene became very distracting.

Even so, there was no denying that his presence made the process go faster. Their last batch of applesauce was finished by 3:00, followed by apple butter some hours later. When the time came to break for dinner, they'd lined their counter with several jars to give away. 

"Just pies left to go," Jaime noted, consulting their list from the night before as Arden and Harry cleared dishes from the dining table.  

"I think that’s my cue to head on home. I don’t know the first thing about pies, except that I love eating them.” 

Arden resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she loaded their plates into the dishwasher. 

“We’ll bring one over tomorrow,” Jaime promised. 

Offering a half-hearted farewell over her shoulder, Arden’s eyes glazed as they fell back onto the final bag on the table. The pads of her fingers felt swollen from the repetitive motion of the knife, and she’d started to worry that no amount of handwashing would ever remove the sense of stickiness from her wrinkled palms. Even after the brief time away, there was a phantom tremor between her thumb and pointer finger. 

“I can finish these up tomorrow.” Jaime sank into the chair across from her, his own hand strong and steady as he reached for her leg under the kitchen table. “I really appreciate all of your help today. I'm glad we did this.” 

Eyes darting upward, she caught the smile she’d heard in his voice. His warm eyes sparked golden when she met his gaze. “I might swear off apples for the foreseeable future, but this has been fun.” With renewed vigor, she glanced back to the bag beside her. “And I’m not leaving you to do these on your own. We said we’d finish these tonight, and that’s what I intend to do.” 

He squeezed her knee, chuckling beneath his breath. 

“Stop!” she urged with an insistent whisper. At his raised brow, she clarified. “You’re thinking about calling me stubborn again -- I know you are.” 

Jaime rose and motioned for Arden to vacate her chair as well. “We can finish tonight, but I want to switch out. I’ll take care of the peeling and slicing. You can measure out the dry ingredients.”

“Deal.” 

Tucking her hair behind both ears, she set to work gathering ingredients and whatever clean utensils she could find. Most of their small stash of measuring cups and spoons had been used for previous recipes, and improvising was easier than washing what was dirty. 

“Are you using the 1/3 cup?”

Flicking the remaining crystals into the mixing bowl, she flashed the tin cup for his inspection. 

“To measure 16 cups of sugar?”

Flushing more from embarrassment than indignance, she scooted the 1/8 measuring teaspoon out of his sightline. He didn’t need to know her plan for the spices. “Don’t make me lose count!”

I could if I wanted to. 

His thoughts cut in, and she very nearly lost track of the scooping despite herself. Offering what she hoped was a stern expression, she retrieved her phone and found a playlist of pop music that had fallen from the top 40 charts a decade before. As she finished preparing the ingredients, she couldn’t help giggling at the memories attached to many of them: trips to the pool in the summertime, dances at prom, basement jam sessions with their very short-lived band phase... 

Jaime brought the bowl of apple slices to the counter, nudging her out of the way so that he could access the dry ingredients and the stovetop. She kept him company as he cooked and cooled, legs dangling from her seat beside the oven. 

Though the raw materials were much different from his usual medium, there was the same undeniable magic in watching him bring them all together. Under Jaime’s care, what started as a few basic ingredients no longer felt ordinary or simple. True to his intentions, the unexpected gift had become something special. 

Finally, the last bag had been sealed and the counters had been wiped down. With one concluding look around the room, Arden cranked the dial on the dishwasher and breathed a sigh of relief. Weariness grew with each step, culminating in a sense of fatigue that prompted her to collapse onto the mattress as soon as she’d made it to their upstairs bedroom. 

“What a day.” Jaime stretched out beside her, sounding much more energetic than she felt. 

Drowning a yawn, Arden tried to recover by taking a deep breath. Her nose shriveled as she realized her mistake. “Everything in our house smells like apples,” she moaned, tossing an arm over her face to try to block the scent. “I smell like apples.” 

He burrowed closer on the bed. “You smell like autumn. I’m getting notes of nutmeg and cinnamon...maybe a hint of clove. I’ll be dreaming of applesauce and pies all night.” Jaime kissed her ear playfully, then pulled away with a soft laugh. 

“Ughhh.” Showering would mean postponing bedtime, but she was starting to think that the delay would be worthwhile. 

“You have a bit of peel in your hair. Here.” He brushed aside a few strands to locate the tiny sliver. 

Prying open her eyes, she turned to face him. “And you’ve got cornstarch...or something... on your ear.” Arden swiped at it with a thumb, relieved when the substance came away easily. 

He caught her elbow as she dropped her hand, his thumb etching gentle circles into her skin. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”

Arden’s eyes flashed with amusement; she knew he’d intended sentimentality, but the setup was too much to resist. “I have to say, that’s not quite the fruit I was thinking of,” she countered, already bracing herself for the well-earned complaint she knew was coming. 

With a well-deserved groan, Jaime leaned over to capture her lips in a sleepy kiss. 

[ethereal-parkner]

Challenge Accepted

Parkner Week 2020 Day 4: Coming Out

read it on AO3

Harley Keener was never one to shy away from a challenge. When the older kids in school dared him to try a cigarette, he smoked one all the way down without so much as a cough. He’d seen his father do it enough when he was younger that he knew how to go for it immediately. In fact, he was so determined to prove the other boys wrong that he continued smoking for another four years.

When Harley first met Peter he was told that Peter “couldn’t hate anyone.” That was a challenge. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he’d utter everytime he waltzed into the lab. Peter was always there at 8:00 AM on the dot, sometimes earlier. (Harley would get there at noon if they were lucky). “Whatcha workin on today?” He’d watch Peter flush as he draped himself over the back of the boy’s chair, reaching over his shoulders to flip through the pages of scribbled notes and plans. Yes, he could certainly make the boy hate him and prove the old man wrong. (Watching him flush and stutter at his words was just a plus).

The younger boy wouldn’t answer some days, only tug at his shirt and flush red and pretend not to notice Harley. Other days he’d barely tug out a response, tripping over every word that tumbled through his mouth. His favorite days were the ones where he’d quip back. If Peter felt up to it, the two could go back and forth for hours until Tony kicked them out of the lab for distracting him. Of course, they never made it too far from the lab, choosing to sit cross legged on the floor outside of the lab door until they were allowed back in, continuing to jab back and forth at each other.

“What, have you got a crush on me?” Peter crossed his arms and gleamed at the boy who was laughing at him. Harley’s eyes widened and he bust out laughing again.

“A crush on you? I could crush you, shortcake.” Harley held a hand up to his waist as if to motion how tall Peter was. Peter kicked out one leg to knock Harley in the knee. Grabbing his leg in pain, Harley couldn’t help but continue at the boy who was trying so hard to act mad. His words barely came out as he was wheezing through glee, “You look like angry pingu!” 

“I already told you I’m not short!” Peter couldn’t help but giggle too at the comparison, proceeding to cross his arms and scrunch his nose for only a moment before dissolving back into a fit of hilarity.

Tony banned them from sitting outside the door of the lab when he kicked them out.

That was a challenge.

Harley’s new agenda was to get kicked out of the lab in every way possible. (Making Peter hate him could always wait for later). Just the next day, he tried figuring out every way he could get kicked out of the lab. It started with the banter, just as it had been already, but wasn’t that too boring? This was a challenge, Harley could do better than that. He decided to bring in the one thing he knew Tony would never ever understand: gen z culture.

It took some help from Peter, but they were able to sneak some code to Friday while Tony was passed out in the lab. Through quiet giggles and occasional shushes, they somehow managed not to wake up the man sleeping fifteen feet away. Harley was banned from the lab for a week when Tony woke up to see a suit doing the Savage dance in the lab.

The suit really could throw it back, though. Gross.

Peter wasn’t banned from the lab, but he still sat outside with Harley. They got to talking about new ways they could get kicked out of the lab and anger their mentor. 

“I know how to juggle,” Peter offered whilst stretching his arms out in front of him. 

“How on earth would that help us, Sugar?” Harley grinned tiredly and rolled his head to look at Peter. Peter was still showing up to sit outside the lab at 8:00 AM, and Harley couldn’t help but feel bad for letting the boy sit alone by the door for so long, so there he was, sitting outside the lab at hours that Harley’s not sure he’s ever seen before.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Peter articulated, “I know how to juggle bricks.” He shot one finger at Harley with a small grin.

“Wha- How did you learn to juggle bricks?” Harley sat up from where he was leaning against the wall.

“It was kind of an accident, long story though. What can you do?” Harley could barely comprehend what just happened. Peter just disclosed that he learned to juggle bricks on accident and acted like it wasn’t a story worth telling.

“I mean, I can juggle bricks too.” Harley grinned, “But not for very long, and I’ll break a few things.” Peter stared at him before breaking into the most joyful laughter Harley thinks he’s ever seen in his life. His eyes lit up, and it took two minutes before Peter could speak again, and another ten before he’d totally calmed down from small giggle fits (but Harley was sure he’d caught Peter quietly laughing again hours later).

“Are you still laughing over the bricks?” Harley asked astounded. He couldn’t hold back a small chuckle at the sight of Peter letting go of barely contained laughter, noting that it was “just too funny.”

Harley didn’t notice a change until the day they watched Tony walk past them into the lab, the sun already up. They made it a habit to stay up and talk, now about anything that came to their minds. He listened to Peter talk about his friends from school, the science papers he’d read for free when his friend hacked the school’s database, and how he enjoyed Solo for Han even though most people didn’t actually like the movie. In fact, Harley had somehow learned a lot about Star Wars. He felt like they had a nice friendship, even though making Peter hate him was still on his to-do list. Harley never backed down from a challenge, but he could postpone one. 

Making Peter hate him could always wait for later.

“Do you think Tony would kick me out if I smoked in the lab?” Harley asked carelessly from the other side of the couch. Peter immediately turned his head up to look him in the eye,

“I think I’d kick you out if you smoked in the lab. Do you know how dangerous that is? You shouldn’t be smoking at all, Harls.” 

Where did that come from?

“Aw, come on, shortcake. I was just kidding.” Harley chuckled.

“Harley, no, I’m serious,” Peter considered his next words carefully, “I bet you can’t quit smoking.”

Harley stood from his seat, thin blanket falling off of his lap along with Peter’s legs. “I can quit smoking,” he defended.

“Prove it.”

That was a challenge.

From that day on, Harley never so much as looked at a cigarette. It was almost nice, he considered, nobody had ever really cared enough to want him to stop. In fact, nobody had even realized how to push Harley the way that Peter learned to.

Harley thought it was normal, he really did. He was just spending time with a friend and having fun, every day, all day long, always finding new things to talk about. Hell, Harley would never have listened to anyone talk about Star Wars so much before he met Peter. Too bad he still had to make Peter hate him, right? It could wait.

Harley managed to accidentally find another way to get banned from the lab: getting sick. For a week, he was hurling, coughing, sneezing, and napping at all hours of the day. Peter, the saint, was by his side through the whole week. 

“Don’t worry, I can’t get sick,” he’d told him when Harley blearily expressed his concern. He didn’t really understand, but he was sure it all came down to the fever. 104, for fuck’s sake. 

Peter came in with chicken soup, Gatorade, blankets, tissues, lysol, anything he could think of. 

“Bet you can’t eat the whole bowl of soup,” Peter would whisper as he sat next to Harley on the bed, resting a hand on his forehead. 

“Bet I can,” Harley would mutter half asleep and delirious with fever, “Gimme that.” Peter smiled and handed over the thermos of chicken soup. Harley never finished the soup before falling back to sleep, but Peter always let him believe that he had.

He laid in bed with Harley and let Harley press his burning forehead against his cold hands. God, how Harley wished it were his hands in his instead of his fever, wished he had Peter around forever to take care of him while he was sick, wished he had Peter around forever.

Harley got over most of the sickness smoothly enough. His fever went down, his food stayed in, and his nose cleared up. The part that stuck around, though, was his cough, but that could be ignored easily enough. Harley had to make up for lost time with his best friend and terrorize their mentor.

“I want to go into music, but I feel like I’d be wasting my brain, y’know? I mean, I want to study music in college, but everything in my life has been pointing me towards engineering, or business, or whatever.” Harley sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.

“You can do whatever you want. If you really wanted you could even double major,” Peter offered with a frown when Harley let out a breathy cough, “You’ve had that cough for a while now. Maybe we should get it checked out?”

“No, it’ll go away. I’ve been sick before, it’ll just figure itself out. But I feel like I’d be letting down everybody if I didn’t go on into SI. Like, why have we been here this whole time? Why have I spent so much time in the lab?” Harley wheezed again prompting Peter to rub his back with a gentle hand on his wrist. Peter always knew what to do, could always help. Making Peter hate him could always wait for later.

“We just like to spend time with you. You know Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts wouldn’t be disappointed, and if you really wanted to still do SI, you know Ms. Potts knows more than some old professors would,” Peter grinned with a lilt to his voice, “You can still play music if you want. Get the best of both worlds, like Hannah Montana.”

“You know I’m not Miley, I’m Travis.” Harley laughed.

“You can still be Travis if you’re playing the cello.”

It only took Harley two weeks to decide that he liked Peter’s idea. Studying music but still being able to take over SI, Pepper had already offered to teach him everything there is to know about running the company. Four years in a music program, and the rest of his life running Stark Industries with Peter, it didn’t sound so bad. (Unless Peter hated him, but that could wait).

Another two weeks and Harley was checked into the hospital, Peter refusing to leave his side. They told him that his body wasn’t reacting well to the flu he’d recovered from and that his lungs were struggling to keep up. Harley knew why, Peter knew he knew. 

“Don’t be afraid. The two of us can get through anything, don’t even worry. We’re, like, the dream team.” Peter sat on the edge of the hospital bed and spouted off everything that came to mind. Really optimistic, Harley thought, considering he’d just been told that his lungs may fail to keep up at all, but that was why he loved Peter so much, always so optimistic.

…

Fuck.

So Harley had feelings for Peter, and it was becoming increasingly clear that he’d had said feelings for quite some time and never addressed it even with himself. Because he was too chicken to admit his feelings to himself? Because he’s too chicken to admit his feelings to his beloved?

Is that a challenge?

He could put that off until he got better. He could wait until Peter hated him. He could wait. Wait, wait, wait. He wasn’t scared to admit his feelings to Peter and lose him. He wasn’t scared to make Peter hate him and lose him. He just needed more time, he had more to hold onto before then.

He needed more time.

More time to have a best friend, more time to play music and build nothing in the lab, more time to risk his friendship for love because, yes, he fell so in love with the best friend who was supposed to hate him. More, more, more time.

Harley couldn’t say he was surprised to hear the words “terminal illness” when the doctor came into his room with that look on his face. It sounded like a challenge, Harley knew it was an obstacle. What was a challenge was the ticking of the clock on the wall, counting out loud every second that Peter lived on not knowing how Harley felt. 

He pretended to not hear his friend cry in the dark room at endless hours of the night. He pretended not to think about the future that he planned out with his friend. He pretended not to notice the way Tony could barely stand being in the room with him. He pretended not to feel the ache in his chest with each weak breath he tried so hard to take. Evading the end wasn’t a challenge. Greeting it with courage was a challenge.

“Peter?” He was leaving soon. He wasn’t ready. His music, his unfinished projects, his Peter.

“Can I tell you something?” Someone else could play music, right? Someone else would interpret his notes, right? Someone else would love Peter, he knew that. That may have been the worst part.

“I, I like guys. No. I like you. I love you so much.” The words had no pitch, no volume. 

One last challenge.

Maybe Peter would hate him for leaving him so soon, not giving him any time. Peter could hate him and find a new best friend, a better lover, never grieve or shed a tear. Harley Keener never shied away from a challenge. (Peter loved hard. Harley’s picture stayed in his wallet all the way through old age nonetheless).

Once I was told that good men get better with age.

We’re just gonna skip that stage.

- “What Would I Do?” Falsettos

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Blight | X

BTS

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Dragon/Shapeshifter AU, Magic AU, Enemies to Lovers 

Warning(s): none

Words: 7.3k

a/n: this one’s a doozy >:))  Enjoy :D

t.list:  @tamedandscripted @syubcandy @cencoroil @kathrynwynterbourne @fireflower90 @bluegreenguppyfish @queen-pharaoh-hatshepsut@mygukandonly @ms-bookdragon @leemarkeurii @seaofsunbeams@astronomyturtle @v-reallife @shubaaa @loudcomputerpoetry@glitterdustbxnny @namelesshil @taeshuworld @kaitsubaki @kookabble@enthusiastt @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore@karissassirak @bunnyboyenthusiast @ladyartemesia @killcomet

“Don’t worry,” you told him with a smile so weak it made him want to weep.  “I’ll keep you safe, so just go ahead and rest now, Jungkook. Sleep, that’s an order.”

He wanted to protest.  Wanted to fight you on the subject of your words.  He had to protect you- not the other way around.  You were his master.  But, he couldn’t even open his mouth, words were so far from his grasp that speech was impossible. When your lips pushed against the skin of his forehead, his eyes slipped shut and he finally fell into sleep.  

His back stinging with the sensation of white, hot lightning was the last thing he remembered feeling before the beginning of a dream that took root from the one tear he watched you shed- before he saw nothing at all.

“Wake up.” A Whisper.  Jungkook heard a whisper.  “It’s a new story with new scenery. Something you wished for.” He couldn't reply back to the whisper.  It was soft and gentle like the wind.  It calmed him. “Wake up, Jungkook.” 

“Jungkook!” The boy flung up from his bed, wincing from the headache he just woke up with.  “Get up, I’m not going to take a fall for you being late again.” 

“Eat me!” Was Jungkook’s reply to his dumb roommate that was 2 years older than him.  Jungkook sat shirtless in bed as he rubbed his brown eyes before looking out the window.  The third floor of a basic apartment building he lived in as a senior in high school. 

As he lugged himself across his room, he felt off.  His pin covered school bag and letterman jacket on his closet door seemed like a mirage. The picture of his 2-year girlfriend seemed photoshopped even though he remembers the date they took that photo clearly in his mind.  Even the background photo on his phone of his mother and him 3 months back made him teary-eyed. 

Walking out of his room, he saw his tech-geek roommate and full-time nagger,  Min Yoongi.  Already in year 2 of college and Jungkook’s friend since middle school.  Insufferable, but still clever and a bit more reliable than one would think at first glance.  

However, even that knowledge and long-time friendship just felt off. 

“Dude, you look awful,” Yoongi hit him with bluntly.  Jungkook just rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever,” marching to get a bowl of cereal- some good ole plain Wheaties- Jungkook moved like a zombie all morning.  Brushing his teeth with his cinnamon toothpaste even phased him because he swore his teeth were sharper.  On the way to school, he sat in Yoongi’s passenger seat.  His friend always hitching him rides to and from school when he could. 

“You seem off,” Yoongi started.  “You have some wack-ass dream or something?” Jungkook shook his head and mixed it with a shrug.  

“I wish I knew.  I just feel like I’m forgetting something. “ Jungkook leaned his head against the window.  Yoongi hummed in thought.  

“Do you have some super important date with Suna or something.” Jungkook shook his head again.  No dates with his girlfriend- Suna- that he could recall.  Yoongi just shrugged.  “Maybe it's just you man.” He stopped at a light and playfully ruffled Jungkook’s dark hair.  “You’ll feel better as the day goes on, yeah?” 

Jungkook just watched out the window as the world started blurring by as Yoongi moved the car again when the light turned. When Yoongi pulled into the school parking lot, a pair of feminine eyes caught the familiar car in her sight.  Jungkook grabbed his bag and slid his body out of the car as Yoongi rolled the window down as Jungkook shut the door.  Walking to the driver's side, he moved to talk a moment more with Yoongi when someone jumped on his back. 

“Woah!” Jungkook yelped as he moved to instinctively hold the leg that wrapped around his back so that whoever was on him wouldn’t immediately fall off him onto the hard concrete pavement.  Looking over his shoulder, he saw the giggling face of Suna.  He sighed.  “What have I told you about jumping on me like that?”  He saw her giggle fade into a pout. 

“How else am I supposed to say good morning?” 

“Like a normal person maybe?” Suna rolled her eyes as she slid off her boyfriend’s back, Jungkook straightening out his bunched jacket and picking up the bag that he had dropped due to the early morning attack.  

“Hello, Yoongi,” she greeted.  Yoongi nodded back to her in response.  In full truth, Yoongi wasn’t a fan of Suna.  She was sweet, sure, but she was almost too sweet.  Sweet enough that he got some sinister vibes from her.  No one was that nice and the sugar that covered her personality like a coat made him off-put. But, she was Jungkook’s girlfriend so he was always polite to her. She just turned back to Jungkook, clutching around his arm as he tucked his other hand into the pocket of his jeans.  “You remember that we’re going out this afternoon right?  That new movie is showing and you promised to take me!” 

Jungkook nodded.  He offered her a smile as she giggled and rocked from her heels to her toes.  That feeling of ‘off’ kept clinging to Jungkook all day.  When Yoongi left for college.  As he walked and talked to Suna, holding her hand down the halls and even chatting to his friends in class.  When he sat in the locker rooms after soccer practice, he wiped the sweat off his brow with his towel.  He thought that a hardcore sweaty practice would clear his head.  Nothing.  

Not even taking a shower in the locker room helped clear his head.  He was commended on a practice well played as one by one each team member left.  He was the last to go, ushered by the coach who was also eager to finally go home for the day.  When he met Suna outside the movie theater, she was quick to run and latch herself onto him. 

“What’s with you today, you seem so spacey,” she told him as she walked at his side.  

“Dunno, just feel weird.  I didn’t sleep well last night,”  he told her as he bought the tickets, skipping popcorn because the snacks in Suna’s bag would be sufficient enough for a movie. The entire movie wasn’t really in his head.  A cheaply made romantic drama.  He wasn’t one to bash on romance, he even enjoyed it occasionally.  But when romance is coupled with nothing but spin around drama, he can’t get into it.  He wasn’t paying attention to the movie and before he knew it, he was being pulled from his seat by Suna because the credits began to roll. 

He actually felt relieved when he got back to his apartment with Yoongi sitting in the living room, scrolling on his laptop and postponing finishing an essay for one of his classes.  Yoongi was good at starting, never finishing then cramming in words at the last minute.  He never learned, but it was always entertaining for Jungkook to watch.  

When he walked into the living room and plopped himself into the vacant recliners, Yoongi peaked above his laptop screen.  

“Still feel off? Or did Suna wear you out?” He asked with a bit of a sarcastic bite.  

“Honestly, both I think.”  His mood had put a damper on his whole day.  He knew that he loved Suna; he had feelings for her, yes.  Just, today was not his day and every string of his patience with her was as thin as a piano wire.  Maybe he just needed to take a break? 

The night moved with him napping in the recliner, getting up to shower then going to bed way earlier than usual.  Hoping that when he woke up, the stupid cloud that kept him feeling the way he was would just go away. 

It was 3 AM when he jumped from his mattress, gripping his comforter in his palm so tightly it felt like the thick fabric could tear.  His heavy gasps and thick gulps of air make him cough.  His body was chilled, clammy and sweat covered.  He felt like he just had a nightmare, but couldn’t recall anything about it.  He pushed his palms into his eyes as he rubbed and steadied his breath.  

“What is wrong with me?” He questioned to himself.  Flinging his covers off him, far too hot to function, he peeled his shirt off and traded his sweats in for some basketball shorts and moved to sit on the cool floor for a bit.  He stared into the darkness of his room- the darkness that his eyes were starting to adjust to- as he calmed down.  His sweat cooled and he even got a small shiver from the A/C.  

He tried his best to remember what kind of dream he had- if he had one at all but nothing.  He couldn’t remember a thing.  All of it was blank.  The same instant blackness that was sleep to him every other night of his life.  He didn’t dream often- let alone have nightmares.  It was probably due to his mood, that’s what he thought.  Thinking it wouldn’t happen again, he moved back to bed and went back to sleep.  

XXX

He was wrong.  This pattern continued for days.  Day after day, night after night he would wake up and think something was wrong.  Have a nightmare or dream he couldn’t remember.  Though, he began to remember bits and pieces of the dream he wasn’t so sure he was having.  A mask, or maybe it was a giant hood?  Someone was wearing something, but that’s all he could remember.  He didn’t know who it was. Who they were- if they were male or female.  He didn’t know a single thing and it began to irritate him. 

Yoongi suggested going to the doctors for it, and as much as Jungkook didn’t want to, he decided maybe something would help if he did.  Hospitals get all sorts of patients so one who got frequent forgetful nightmares nightly wasn’t so odd, right? 

It was during his lunch break that he managed to break away from his girlfriend’s hawk-like vision of him to get in contact with his doctor scheduling an appointment this afternoon after practice.  He got off the phone when he saw someone walk past him.  Carrying a stack of books- probably from the main office to a teacher in need- was a student who looked not too much older than him.  

He was small, but older due to the fact he was running teacher errands.  Only high year students could do that and not need another student or teacher to babysit them and hold their hands so they wouldn’t take the chance and run from class altogether. He swore he looked familiar.  

“Hey, Jimin!”  Jungkook called as he walked after his back, his body on autopilot.  The upperclassman stopped and looked over his shoulder.  His clothes were bunched up at the front due to the books he held and his glasses rested on his nose almost threatening to slip right off.  Though, the beads attached to the end of each earpiece and around his neck would make sure they wouldn’t fall onto the floor.  

“Yes?” He started. “Do I know you?” He asked when Jungkook came to a stop in front of him.  He was shorter than Jungkook thought.  He felt something in his throat when this boy asked him if they knew each other.  Why did that question strike a chord with him?  “Well?” 

“Oh! Um, no??” He questioned as he rubbed his head. 

“Then how did you know my name?”  Jugnkook jumped.  Did he call him by name?  When- no wait- how did he do that?  Jungkook sputtered as he floundered for an explanation.  “Jungkook, if you don’t need anything can I be on my way?” 

“You- you know my name?” 

Jimin sighed.  “Of course I do.  Who doesn’t know a soccer player of their own school team?”  Jungkook made a small noise of realization that he was pretty popular for a highschooler.  It made sense for people who he didn’t actually know to know him- or at least know his name. Seeing that he wasn’t going to get a proper response out of Jungkook, Jimin moved to leave, the book in his arms weighing him down more than he wanted them to any longer. 

Jungkook watched him walk away, not stopping him because he just couldn’t find the words.  He felt like he wanted to talk to Jimin about a lot of things, but he didn’t know him at all.  He didn’t know how he even knew his name when that was the first time Jungkook had seen Jimin at all.  He seemed studious, so maybe he heard his name around exam periods or something.  He jumped when Suna sauntered up and swung her arm around his.  

“Who were you talking to?” He asked as she watched Jimin’s head walk away before turning the corner.  Catching a glimpse of his face. “Oh, Jimin?  Why were you talking to the President?” Jungkook looked down at her. 

“The what?” 

“The President?  You know, student council? Is your brain working? I know you don’t pay attention it all that, but still.” Suna jokingly reached up and knocked on his forehead a few times.  With each forehead knock, he blinked in reflex.  

“Student council?  You mean the president’s name isn’t Elias?” Suna rose her brow?  

“No? For real, did you hit your head or something?”  Jungkook shook his head.  He waved it all off, explaining that he was tired and that he was going to the doctors later to help him with his sleeping. Suna offered to go with him, but he quickly shot her down.  He felt like this isn’t something she should get involved with.  He loved her but by God, he needed some space.

That afternoon, he went to the doctors and after checking in, waiting in the lobby and soon being ushered off into a doctor’s office, he sat still in a medical chair.  Sitting on his phone and scrolling through old photos of him and his friends and family. It was after he saw a picture of his mom that he decided that he’d give her a call later.  Maybe if the doctor couldn’t help, her advice would.  

He quickly put his phone down when the door opened, revealing a white-coated, pastel blue scrub-covered man with the most boring pair of loafers he had ever seen.  Clipboard in hand, he greeted Jungkook.  

“Good afternoon, Jungkook.” The man smiled as he walked over and sat at his computer, sitting in his small rolly stool as he set his clipboard down and faced Jungkook in the medical chair.  “My name is Doctor Parrish,” Jungkook held back a chuckle at his ironic name.  Parrish pronounced as perish?  To die?  And he became a doctor?  Oh, it was golden that he was his doctor.  

Though looking at him, Jungkook’s memory was once again fuzzy and he felt that same feeling he had with Jimin.  Like he was supposed to know him.  “So, I’ve heard you’ve had problem’s sleeping?” 

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah.  I just keep getting the same nightmare every night, but I don’t remember it.”  Parrish nodded as he typed on his computer. 

“I’m going to ask you a series of basic questions. Pretty easy, so just answer to the best of your ability with complete honesty. This is only between you and me.”  Jungkook nodded again as Parrish asked about his habits, diet, sexual activity, stress levels if he smoked or did any sort of drugs, etc.  Soon, the doctor was taking his blood pressure and having Jungkook do breathing exercises as he listened to the beat of his heart through his chest and back. 

Jungkook was healthy as a horse according to Doctor Parrish.  No signs of any illness and there were no problems that could look like they could be plausible.  He explained that he’s had many restless patients in the past and what helps with them was that they would accept the dreams they had.  They would unconsciously reject them before, but after they began to accept that they would happen and let them play out in their subconscious, they steadily began to get better. 

Parrish suggested that Jungkook stop worrying so much about the nightmare and just let it run its course.  If he ever had a dream when he could remember anything, Parrish told him to write it down in a journal or something, so that maybe recognizing it in words may have some effect.  He also prescribed him a medication that is supposed to relax him before bed, so that even with a dream, he could sleep through the night.  

Jungkook called Yoongi to pick him up from the clinic as they sat in the car on the way home.   “You don’t happen to know a Parrish, do you?” Jungkook asked in an unsure tone.  Yoongi furrowed his brow.  

“Parrish?  No, I don’t.”  Jungkook just nodded as he leaned back into his seat.  “Should I?” Yoongi persisted. 

“No.  I don’t know?  Argh, I’m just tired,” he mumbled.  Yoongi just nodded as he continued the drive home in silence.  

XXX

The next day, the school was buzzing.  Word of a new student in the middle of the school year transferring in from overseas.  Apparently, they were a girl and she didn’t talk.  She always wore a cold mask like she was sick and she wasn’t a fan of people. Rumors and gossip had already started and she was only in school not even the whole morning.  Suna was talking to her friends about the new girl.  

“I saw her earlier, she was bundled up in a hoodie and had a pretty tacky pair of shorts.  I think she just cut her jeans right at her thighs,” she told her goodie-goodie pals. Jungkook couldn’t tell if she was stating facts, or if she was making an unnecessary jab at the new girl. 

Throughout the course of his dazed state of mind, his attention around the school had changed it felt like.  It was like people looked at him and approached him in a different light.  He was participating in school activities, working in class and even taking part in class discussion without causing too much of a distraction.  He can’t remember all that much what he used to be like, but he had an idea that he wasn’t exactly the man among men he was now. 

He had all sorts of people shout hello to him in the halls and during games his school would be cheering his team on, adding his name as he blocked a goal from the opposing team successfully before launching the ball back into the field from the goalies net. 

On the other hand, Suna hadn’t been changing.  Jungkook wouldn’t fawn over her and be at her beck and call anymore. She had even begun to become annoyed at him for small tasks like not sitting with her at lunch or not waiting at her locker during passing time. However, as he changed and as she didn’t, he felt like something else was wrong too.  Like, something wasn’t quite right.  He didn’t understand it, so he just dismissed the matter- at least for now. 

Jungkook was walking down the hall when he peeked into a room by chance and saw none other than Jimin sitting at a desk.  He gasped lightly when he backed up and got a better look.  He was drowning in papers in what looked like a meeting room.  It must’ve been the student council room.  Jungkook knocked on the door a few times before going inside.  

“Hey, Pres.,” Jungkook greeted with a smile.  Jimin looked up, glasses on his nose again as he looked at Jungkook in astonishment.  

“What’re you doing here?” Jimin asked.  A good question honestly. 

“I was just- uh- walking by and saw you in here.  You're probably busy, I know, but I figured I could help you with something?”  Jungkook didn’t know why he came in exactly, he could’ve just kept walking but he came inside.  Now, all he wanted was Jimin to not kick him out.  

“Are you good at checking over sheets?” Jimin asked, catching Jungkook off guard.  Jimin held up an answer sheet.  “I’m going over the freshmen’s answers to a recent test they took as a grade.  If you want to help, grab a stack and start checking.”  Jimin gave the answer sheet to Jungkook who took it and sat himself down at a desk, taking a stack of at least 50 papers with him.  

He took a red pen that sat in a cup and clicked it open. 

“Do I just mark the wrong ones?” Jimin only nodded as his eyes scanned back and forth between the answer sheet and test sheet, making the occasional x for any wrongly answered questions.  

Jungkook’s eyes felt heavy as he finally checked off the final wrong answer of his final test sheet before he clipped his pen closed and put his head on his desk.  He saw Jimin’s finished stack easily twice the size of his.  He probably didn’t need to come in here at all to help, he was sure Jimin could handle probably 100 more sheets before he got tired.  

Jimin was straightening up his papers, standing from his desk as Jungkook followed suit mirroring his senior's actions.  Jimin took off his glasses, letting the beads on them hang at his chest.  He looked really different without glasses and his blonde hair looked good on him like that, resting on his forehead.  

“Thank you for your help,” Jimin told him.  

“Not sure how much help I was,” Jungkook rubbed his head.  Jimin just shook his head, saying that if Jungkook hadn’t helped, he wouldn’t have been so quick.  He gathered up papers to take down to the main office when Jungkook took half of his stack and added it to his own.  Offering to take half of the load down with the president. As the two walked down the quiet halls, only a few clubs left after hours, Jungkook brought up the new student.  “So, do you know the new girl?” 

“Not really,” Jimin responded.  Jungkook was almost disappointed.  “She’s shy, and she won’t take her mask off.  Not even for her school photo.  She’s not a big talker either, some think she’s mute.”  Jungkook nodded. Information, even if little, is enough to satisfy this odd feeling of wanting to know more. 

When the two dropped off the papers, the teachers were shocked to see Jungkook with Jimin, the beloved student council president.  Jimin was quick to explain that Jungkook helped out with grading and checking some freshman tests and that he should be thanked for his efforts.  When Jungkook left school that day, he felt like he was almost a bit closer to Jimin.  It was a friendship he found himself really wanting. 

XXX

Two weeks.  It took two weeks for his dreams to stop. He had been writing them down and taking his medicine and he finally had his first night of full sleep.  He was ecstatic when he woke up.  He woke up excited for days, but everything good had to change right.  

He was walking in the halls, bickering with Suna, a fuming girlfriend who was going on about how he couldn’t make it to her birthday party that weekend.  It wasn’t his fault if he was planning to go to his mom’s that day.  Suna had known about it and so it was her fault for planning her party on that same day.  She was practically making him choose between her and his mom and thinking he’d chose her she had no worries.  Unfortunately for her, she was wrong. Jungkook’s mother was always first. 

“Listen, you knew I was going out that day.  Out of town, out.  It’s not my fault, why am I being yelled at?” Jungkook sighed with a locked jaw.  

“Not your fault?  Yes, it is!  You’re choosing to leave your girlfriend on her birthday?  How awful is that?!” Suna whined as she stomped her foot.  Stopping and grabbing Jungkook’s arm to make him stop too, making him unable to march away from the unless bickering. 

“Why are you acting like the victim here?  I’m being wrongfully scolded!”  Jungkook seethed. 

Suna was ready to fire back with another whine of the same words in a different order she had already complained about time and time again when she took a step back and knocked into someone.  She whipped around to yell with her peaked annoyance at whoever was behind her in the first place. 

“Watch it!” She shrieked when Jungkook stopped her.  

“Suna!  Don’t blame this on them!”  Jungkook moved around Suna and to the figure picking themselves off the ground.  Their scattered paintbrushes rolling on the tile.  Jungkook knelt to help pick them up.  “The least you can do is help, you knocked them over,” Jungkook told Suna who refused to bend an inch and help.  She just huffed and stomped off like some damsel in distress.  Jungkook just sighed.  “Sorry about that,” he muttered.  

He looked up to see a girl.  Hair pulled into a low ponytail at her neck as she wore a black hoodie.  Her shorts were a dull green and her shoes worn with scuff marks.  She shook her head as she gathered her paintbrushes.  He looked at the mask she wore over her nose and mouth.  

“Are you the new girl?” The girl’s eyes flicked up and locked with Jungkook’s.  He felt like he got gut-punched, his air being knocked out of him. He instantly thought her eyes were beautiful and familiar. Her eyes widened as she was quickly standing up and before he knew it, she was running off.  Down the hall and away from him before he could even get a word out.  “Hey, wait!” But, she was gone.  He held her paintbrushes in his hand, three of them.  He held his chest where he felt his heart beating almost out of control.  “What’s going on?” 

That night, he had a nightmare.  He woke up in that same familiar cold sweat and clamped throat.  He rushed to get to his journal he wrote everything inside of down and was quick to write about what he saw.  A mask with a picture of a dragon.  A moving shadow with two red eyes.  And lightning.  Lots and lots of lightning.  It didn’t help that at the moment, outside his window was a violent storm. 

He was quick to call him mom.  It was early, yes, but he knew that she was up early hours to get ready for work around this time.  And he couldn’t go back to sleep so he figured if she had some time to spare, he’d call her.  He did miss her and hadn’t called her in so long because he didn’t want to trouble her with all this.  

When she picked up, saying his name Jungkook choked.  His throat grew tight and he swallowed a lump that was so hard for him to swallow.  He opened his mouth and a shaky breath came out.  He heard his mother calling him again, asking him if he was alright.  He just smiled as a tear rolled down his face.  

“Yeah, mom.  I’m alright.  I’m just so glad to hear your voice again.” 

XXX

For the next week, Jungkook had been trying to catch the new girl, as his mother advised him to.  Trying to find her in the halls, in the cafeteria, the office or even a classroom.  He didn’t know anything about her or where she could be.  He didn’t know her grade, class, hobbies or if she was in any clubs.  He asked the art club if they knew her since she had all those paintbrushes, but they didn’t.  He’d check the library on days it wasn’t too crowded, not pegging her for a crowd type. 

He wanted to see her again.  He wanted to look at her eyes again, but he couldn’t because he couldn’t find her.  He wanted to know what it was that happened to his chest when he looked into her eyes and why she looked so spooked and took off so fast.  Maybe she knew him?  Did he have some childhood friend he couldn’t remember or something and she’s too scared to ask him? He shook his head, no that’s way too fictional movie cliche.  

It was during his most stressful day that he finally got all the answers to every question he had.  

He had a particularly violent dream with so much lightning and yelling it left him with wet, spotty and blurry eyes.  Instantly putting him on edge, so when he got to school that morning, despite Yoongi’s warnings to leave him alone, Suna came marching up with her usual spiel of whatever is was that Jungkook did- or didn’t do. 

This bickering leads to the thinnest of lines before Jungkook finally called it off and decided enough was enough.  He’d had it with her foul attitude and constant bitching.  She really wasn’t the girl he remembered loving and honestly, he wasn’t the person he remembered from back then either.  He’s changed and so has his views of his ‘wonderful’ girlfriend.  So, he ended it.  Breaking up with Suna- leading to a whole other fight- and finally walking out of her presence.  

Of course, the word spread throughout the school, not that Jungkook minded.  It’s not like it was a fake rumor or anything.  He was shocked to have Jimin stop him in the halls that day to ask how he was doing.  Apparently, he had heard the whole ordeal and was worried Jungkook would be bummed out.  Jungkook thanked him for his appreciation and told him he felt fine- freer actually. Jimin walked away from him with a smile after that, one that Jungkook knew he got as a friend and not just as the student council president. 

That afternoon Yoongi rewarded Jungkook with a buffet dinner on him for finally dumping the girl who he hadn’t trusted or liked for so long.  Hearing Yoongi talk about what he didn’t like about Suna really put into perspective the person Jungkook must’ve been back then to fall for her in the first place.  It made him shudder, yet also proud at how much he’s grown.  

That night, he had his first and last vivid dream.  

He was in this dream as a part of it and was in complete control of himself.  It was completely lucid.   It was black everywhere around him, walking endlessly he finally saw something not far off.  Running to it, he saw a mirror and he nearly fell on his ass from what he saw.  He was sure it was him looking back at his own reflection, but he didn’t look like him.  

The brown of his head, the darkness of his eyes, the dullness of his teeth weren’t there.  They had all been replaced with different attributes.  He had dulled ash-rose hair, sharpened fangs it seemed like and his eyes were golden like that of the stars.  Touching his cheeks, his smooth skin felt bumpy and rough. He gasped when he saw the faintest outlines of what looked like scales.  He backed up from the mirror, still staring wide-eyed at what should be himself. 

“What the fuck?!” The mirror suddenly cracked, the split in the glass running down the center of his reflection, splitting him in two before he was falling.  Landing on his back, he winced with squeezed his eyes closed before opening them again and looking up.  Above him was a face staring down at him, rendering him speechless for a second before he recognized them. 

“D-doctor Parrish?” He whispered before the good doctor scribbled something down on his clipboard and handed it to someone.  Jungkook couldn’t move his body, feeling like he was strapped down onto the floor he lay on.  The person he handed the board to was Yoongi.  “What?  Yoongi- what are you-?” He didn’t finish before he watched the clipboard become engulfed in a shadow before phasing out like ashes.  

Yoongi was quick to step over Jungkook’s body, Parrish suddenly disappearing.  Jungkook was then freed from his invisible restraints on the floor as he turned and pushed himself up.  “Yoongi!” He called, panicking ever so slightly before chasing him and stopping again when he saw Yoongi stop and face someone else. It was Jimin.  But, Yoongi didn’t even know Jimin. Jungkook hadn’t even talked about him at home before. 

He blinked and before he knew it they were gone.  Parrish, Yoongi, Jimin all gone and he was back, standing in an empty dark void.  His hands shot up to touch his face, still feeling the scales on his skin.  Reaching higher, he let out a small shriek at the feeling of horns pushing out of his forehead.  He had to whip around and make sure there wasn’t a tail growing out of his ass either. 

He was rendered immobile once more, for just a second, from the deafening lightning that flashed behind him.  The thunder booming as he whipped around after the initial shock of something unexpected.  Lightning was going wild, yet confined.  Stuck in a clear orb as it bounced and cracked with enough electricity to make Jungkook’s hair stand. The lightning looked familiar to him and it filled him with a rage he didn’t recognize, yet he also felt so guilty when he saw it.  

Then, once again, all was silent as the lightning fizzled out.  It was silent before he felt pain in his back.  His breath escaped him like a sledgehammer drilled into his spine before he fell to his knees, mouth agape as he forgot how to breathe for several seconds.  Sputtering and trying to remember how to operate the lungs.  In and out, small breaths, in and out. It should be easy. 

His back felt like it was on fire.  Burning and stinging with a pain he hadn’t felt before and it was completely numbing. His body shook as he writhed on the ground, mouth open in a screamless pain. He lay on his side, eyes wet and wide as tears tracked down the side of his face. He saw a pair of shoes in front of his sight now.  Worn, scuffed up shoes.  

The person in the shoes knelt and he saw those green shorts and black hoodie before she saw the new girl’s hair and mask covered face again.  Jungkook couldn’t move.  

“What are you trying to do, Jungkook?” Her voice was so sweet and familiar.  It eased the pain his body felt and he wanted to move.  “I’m trying to make you happy,” she said continuing on. “I’m giving you a normal life with normal people and a normal world.  Why do you keep trying to follow me?”  Her voice was soft, but it held a hint of sorrow in it.  It shook like she was really trying to get answers out of him.  Answers he wasn’t sure he had. 

“Who?” Was all he manages to weakly gasp out.  Soon, the girl was rubbing his back and he felt so much warmth on his skin.  Her action made the pain he felt begin to ebb away- all just from her touch. Breathing came easily and he could finally move to lay on his back and look up at her.  Her eyes were different than before. They seemed to glow in the darkness around her.  In fact, her entire body was outlined with a faint white glow like magic. 

“You should stay sleeping.  Stay in your dream so that you can live the life you want.” Jungkook found himself shaking his head.  He didn’t know what was going on.  What was happening to him? Who was this girl?  “Stop chasing me, Jungkook.  Don’t wake up.”  Jungkook shook his head again. 

“What’s wrong with me?” He choked out.  The girl smiled at him.  Stroking his cheek as he quickly reached to grab her hand.  It was warm in his and fit so well like he’s held it before.  It didn’t feel like Suna’s hand that merely sat in his palm.  Her hand felt like it belonged in Jungkook’s. “Why do I look like this?  What’s going on?” The girl just smiled sadly, he could see her cheeks push up under her mask.  Her eyes were so expressive.  “Who are you?” 

She shook her head.  Her opposite hand began to glow as if she held a light, but nothing was there.  Just her skin glowing like a firefly.  That light, even if so warm, scared Jungkook.  He began to shake his head, rejecting it unconsciously.  He’d seen that light before he knows he has and he didn’t like the outcome of whatever it brought.  

“Jungkook, calm down.  I’ll make all the bad dreams stop and you can start again.  With a new perfect world.”  Jungkook acted fast.  He grabbed the girl's hands in his wrists before he was pushing her back.  With a yelp from her and a grunt from him he was soon pinning her down, her eyes wide as her face stayed hidden behind that godforsaken mask. 

Looking at her, something in his head started to turn.  Like a fog clearing.  The girl seemed to notice as his eyes began to shift.  She struggled under him as he held her down.  Visions of magic and myths playing in his head.  Silhouettes of people and creatures he’s seen in some other place, some other world.  

He saw Yoongi with a black and shadowy figure with power at his fingertips.  Jimin with teeth and claws of a dog from the pits of hell.  Parrish, a doctor but with much more magical features and home from a fairy tale.  Lightning.  A man with lighting that struck fear and hate into Jungkook and made him rear his teeth. 

Then, he saw someone else.  A girl who was beside him.  He would fight with her, bicker with her and pick on her.  Then something happened and he was with her constantly. At her side when she needed him. When she got infected with something, when she wanted to run from someone and when he even got himself hurt protecting her before she promised to make it all better.  That’s when it all started, with that promise from her.  Her face was blurred and he couldn’t make it out.  

His eyes glazed as he looked down at the girl beneath him.  His tears dripping onto her cheeks and running under her mask. 

“You…” he started before the girl started struggling again.  Jungkook pushing her wrists down with all the force he could muster.  “Stop it!” He screamed as she stilled almost instantly.  He moved and hooked a finger under one side of her mask. 

“Don’t,” she pleaded with a shaky, tear-filled voice.  He took a breath before he ripped the mask off and the blurred face of the girl in that world of magic and myth filled in with hers.  Everything hit him as the darkness around him faded into a world he knew, the facade finally fading. 

“Y/n?” He asked before she disappeared like smoke and soon he was falling in water.  Drowning, he felt like he was drowning as he tried to swim before he gave up and let himself sink.  The nightmare was over.

XXX

Jungkook woke up to a white ceiling, blurry vision and tired.  He blinked slowly once before he registered the machines around him and the constant beeping at his side.  Moving his eyes, he was in a hospital room.  Wincing and moving to sit, he looked outside.  

It was his world.  The world that isn’t fake and the one he needed to be in.  This world where his mother was dead, where he wasn’t human and where no girl named Suna existed at all.  This was his magical, cruel and beautiful world where you were. 

He recalled the last time he saw you and nearly flew into a panic when his hospital door opened.  Yoongi and Jimin stood in the doorway.  Hellhound and warlock both frozen before they ran into the room. Jungkook thought Jimin was going to fly onto his bed. 

“You’re alive!” He cried with a smile as Yoongi just stared in astonishment.  

“How did you manage to wake up on your own?  That should’ve been impossible.” Jungkook squinted at the warlock.  He just woke up and was clearly confused.  “Jungkook, you’ve been sleeping for half a year already.”  

“What?!” Jungkook’s first word flew out of his mouth as a shrill cry.  Jimin covered his sensitive ears as Yoongi just sighed, flicking the door closed with a shadow as it had remained open at the boys’ sudden rush inside. 

“Do you remember what happened before you fell asleep?” Jungkook looked at his white lap with a bland hospital blanket and patterned scrubs.  He did, for the most part.  He was injured by Zaros after he was shot in the back with a lightning bolt.  Then, you had promised to protect him, then he fell. “Y/n cast a spell on you, it’s a type of spell that causes the victim to experience a world that doesn’t exist through a dreamscape.” 

“That makes sense,” Jungkook told himself.  It would explain why he was also so off-set in his dreams.  Maybe the nightmares he kept having was his own unconscious way of waking up from the real nightmare.  

“What kind of world did she put you in?” Jimin timidly asked, hoping he wasn’t prying to being too insensitive.  

“A normal one,” he answered, looking at his friend. “Everyone was human and magic didn’t exist.  But, it wasn’t the same.  Y/n wasn’t really there.  Jimin and I weren’t like we are now, we hardly even knew each other. Yoongi, you were in college and just some random bookworm I met in middle school.  I was normal. But still, it never felt quite right.”  

The two boys were quiet for a while and soon Jugnkook was finding it odd that you weren’t coming in.  Where were you at? The two boys at his side hadn’t talked in a while, so perhaps they’d know.  They should, Yoongi was your brother and Jimin adored you. Jungkook felt a sinking feeling in his gut. 

“Yoongi, where is Y/n?” Jimin visibly stiffened and Yoongi had an unrelaxing lack of response to Jungkook’s questions.  His anxiety spiked. “Where is she?” He asked again. 

“Yoongi?” Jimin timidly called.  

“You’ve been sleeping for six months,” Yoongi repeated as Jungkook growled.  

“I know that. Where is Y/n?  Where is my Master!”  He got more and more riled up as Jimin jumped to try and calm him down.  Yoongi shot a glare at Jungkook, freezing him in place on his hospital bed. 

“What ‘Master’?” Yoongi hissed as he stood up and grabbed Jungkook’s wrist shoving it to his face.  Jungkook’s eyes widened as his mouth opened.  Small noises of all sorts of incoherencies falling off his tongue.  His mark, his binding tattoo to you was just... gone.  It wasn’t there anymore.  His skin was clean. 

Yoongi basically threw Jungkook’s wrist back down before taking a breath and sitting back in his chair.  Trying to calm his temper down. “It’s been a long six months and a lot has happened.  Zaros tried to take the school that day you got hurt. In short, it’s best to say something took his magic away sometime after you fell asleep. When authorities found him, he was just sitting in a daze in the outside corridors.”

“His magic... is gone?” Jungkook asked. 

“Well, that’s not exactly true.  It’s better to say it’s locked right now. He can’t use it at the moment; something is restricting him. To help with the remaining Spellcasters investigating due to his silence on the ordeal, Jimin and I have entered into our own contract; since we knew Y/n personally.” That took Jungkook by surprise.  Finally noticing the matching tattoos on the back of Yoongi and Jimin’s right hands.  “And also-” 

He cut himself off as Jimin sat in his own chair.  Face forlorn and distant as his eyes misted over from the emotions he still felt from that day.  He couldn’t do anything that day, Yoongi couldn’t either. It wasn’t their fault, but they still felt responsible to some degree.  

“We found your body in the courtyard, Y/n wasn’t with you and your mark had already disappeared.” 

“What do you mean?  She was with me, she’s the one who put that spell on me, right?  How could she not have been with me?”  

“Jungkook, Y/n went missing after she broke your contract.  No one’s been able to find her since.” 

-TBC-

[folkloreguk]

🎄 December 13th 🎄

A/N: Happy December! I decided to make a kpop-scenarios-advent-calendar for all of you! I will post at least every second day up until Christmas! They will either be fluff or smut, sometimes only small drabbles, sometimes long scenarios. And all my scenarios will be optional bias (male, at least in the smuts) so all of you can enjoy them! x

genre: smut, male!dom (this is actualla really kinky I almost died writing this rip me)

~3.8k words

here’s my jungkook advent calendar I did last year!

MASTERLIST  

(F/N = friend’s name) (H/N = his name)

It was one of both your boyfriend and your free days. Now and then, you decided to spend them alone, staying at home, doing whatever came to your head. It meant blanket forts, playing hide and seek or simply binge watching your favorite TV show all day.

Today however, had been quite productive. Your boyfriend and you had been baking Christmas cookies all day. You were filling up box after box. A good amount of the sweets had also landed in your mouths, of course. Right now you were waiting, the last tray of cookies in the oven. Your boyfriend came up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. His chest pressed against your back, warm and comforting. Your sweater had ridden up as he toyed with the skin that was exposed. His lips ghosted over your neck, tickling you softly. You chuckled and said his name, signaling him to stop. He had been this way since the morning. Teasing touches, fleeting kisses on your neck and lips, hugging you at any given chance. There had been moments when you had almost given in to him. You had kissed for a few minutes, and after a while he had began playing with your sweater. That's when you realized your cookies were long finished. After almost burning that tray, you decided to postpone the making out until after the baking. To his dismay.

“Can we make the gingerbread houses now?” he asked into your ear. You had completely forgotten about those. After making gingerbread figures your had drawn faces onto them, making them look like your friends, making you both laugh. He had made one that looked like you and you had decorated one to make it look like him. Then, you had looked up which pieces you needed for a gingerbread house. And because one wasn't enough, you had baked gingerbread walls and roofs for two houses. To this point you had no idea who was going to eat all of this, but that was something to think about later.

“Why did we decide to make two again?” you asked, turning to the tray with the cookie walls. It had cooled down by now, ready to be made into a beautiful house. You had bought pre-made icing and lots of sugar decoration, the bowls already covering every surface of the kitchen from decorating the previous kinds of cookies.

“I have an idea!” he suddenly exclaimed. His eyes were glowing in excitement, like every time he was happy about something. “Let's have a gingerbread house contest!”

“That's impossible! We can't choose a winner when it's just us two,” you noted.

“Of course we can! We will both know that mine is the best,” he said, cheekily smiling at you. His eyes woke up the combative spirit inside of you, so you started to think about his idea.

“What about taking pictures of our houses and sending them to a friend, asking them to be the judge?” you thought out loud. He grinned.

“Let's send them to F/N!” he requested. “He always replies right away.”

You weren't sure if sending them to his best friend was going to ensure your win, but you agreed nonetheless.

“What does the winner get?” he asked, getting more enthusiastic by the second. You thought.

“What about…the loser has to grant the winner a wish,” you said.

“Anything?” he asked. You nodded.

“Anything,” you agreed, knowing that if his request was too crazy you could always talk your way out of it. He loved you too much to argue, anyway. And you loved him too much to say no, which meant you might as well grant him any crazy wish in the world. That is, in case he won. Which you were going to prevent.

Two minutes later you had cleared out a small space and transferred the gingerbread pieces in front of you.

At least you knew you were at an advantage, having done this before. You began, trying to figure out how to place the pieces in the most efficient position. Then, you started putting the icing into a piping bag, careful not to drop any. The way he eyed your side, taking in your actions, worried you.

“Don't you dare touch my masterpiece,” you said, giving him a stern look. He smiled sweetly.

Around ten minutes later your warning seemed like it had never been serious. After you had began building your houses, the teasing had begun.

“Mine will look like a billion dollar mansion,” he had said. “Yours will be ugly.”

That's when you had playfully thrown smarties onto his house. It was a mistake. Motivated by your actions, he impulsively grabbed one of your walls and before you could even yell in surprise, he took a bite from it. It was still usable, but you were outraged nonetheless. You got him back by eating some of his decorative candy, making him push you off his side, hands already messy with icing. You fought him off, trying not to get any of the white, sticky icing onto you. With all the energetic yelling, you seriously hoped your neighbors weren't at home to hear. While you were both focused on your own houses for a few seconds, trying to make them stand up, you swore and nagged.

“This will never stay together!” he exclaimed. You were too focused to answer, holding your roof parts together, not daring to blink. After a few seconds, he quieted down too. When you had carefully let go of your house, icing was covering your hands just as much as your boyfriend's. Grinning mischievously, you let your eyes divert to his side. He was supporting his “future mansion” with his hands, biting his lip. You took the opportunity. Suddenly, you grabbed his shoulders, yelling a loud “Boo!”. Startled, he jumped, shouting in frustration. You had avoided getting any icing onto his clothes, now eying your hands. Unluckily, his house was still standing. When he turned your way you knew you were in trouble. Instantly you braced yourself, holding your sticky hands up in front of you. He had other plans. Quickly, he came forward, reaching for your wrist, his grip iron tight. He pushed your own hand towards your face, wanting to smash the icing onto your skin. You giggled as you tried hard to stop him, but it was no use. Your laughter mixed with his when you felt the sugary substance on your skin, still struggling wildly to keep him away. In the end, the icing landed not only on both of your faces, but also your clothes. You were still laughing when he was backing away, glaring at you playfully.

“Stop!” you shouted as he reached for some more of the icing. “We haven't even decorated them yet! Let's bury the hatchet.”

He eyed you, probably not really trusting your sudden idea. But then, he agreed. For a solid five minutes you managed not to sabotage the other's work. When he began again, throwing sweets at you, you decided to ignore him.

Your creative spirit had taken over, making you finish the gingerbread house feeling rather confident. To be honest, neither of your houses were particularly beautiful. But taking into consideration the chaotic fighting that had happened during it all, they were a solid ten out of ten. Your boyfriend took photos whilst you advised him on the perfect angle for your masterpiece.

“Mine's so gonna win,” you said, marveling at your house proudly. Your boyfriend clicked the send-button on his phone, shaking his head.

“No way,” he answered, putting his phone down on the counter. “The prize is mine.”

“What would you even wish for, in case you won,” you asked. “Which, you won't.”

“I don't know yet,” he said. “But I'm gonna come up with something.”

You chuckled, still confident of your victory. Then, your eyes flew over the kitchen and the mess that was it.

“Maybe we should start cleaning this up,” you requested. He sighed, but agreed. Better now than later when you would be even more tired. The sun had gone closer to the horizon, dawn breaking in slowly. For a few minutes you cleaned up in comfortable silence. You were standing by the sink, warm water running into the many used bowls.

“We'll have to let this sit for a while, so the dough comes off easier,” you thought out loud. He mumbled something undefinable and before you knew it, his arms were around you again. His chest was against your back, his head resting on your shoulder. You couldn't help but smile. Sweetly, he kissed your cheek, the entire playful fighting from before completely forgotten.

“Why are you so needy today?” you asked. “Not that I'm complaining.”

He didn't get time to answer, because you turned around in his arms and pressed your lips to his. You felt him smile into the kiss. He finally had what he wanted. Your hands went around his neck, playing with his hair while his tongue slipped past your lips. His hands were eager, pushing up your sweater and running over your sides. Pressing himself closer to you, you found yourself leaning against the nearest kitchen counter, almost bending backward from how hungry his kisses were. He groaned into the kiss when you pulled his hair softly, knowing it was his weakness. You felt yourself getting more turned on by every inch his hands moved higher beneath your sweater. He didn't make a move to take it off you, he simply loved teasing you until you were putty in his hands. But what he could, you could do better.

You let your hands move from his hair lazily, over his sensitive neck to his chest. Your fingers pressing against the fabric, you let your hands run down his front seductively. He groaned again, this time even pulling away to watch your actions for a moment. Your fingers stopped by the waistband of his sweatpants, playing with the fabric teasingly. You pulled him closer, his crotch grinding against yours. You could feel how his bulge was growing. You thought about pulling him to the bedroom, but he was too forceful, having you sandwiched between the counter and his body.

“H/N, not here,” you breathed. “Let's go to the bedroom.”

He didn't seem to listen, now bending to your neck and peppering kisses all over it. He had grabbed your sweater and was pulling it upward, but you weren't having it.

“Babe, let's go,” you said again. Suddenly, a noise interrupted you. Your boyfriend's phone. He pulled away shortly, reaching for the device behind him. You wish you could have wiped the grin off his face as he checked the screen. You knew what it meant.

“I won. My gingerbread house is the best,” he triumphed. You rolled your eyes, admitting his victory. At the moment, you were too sexually frustrated to care. You were sure, later you would be bothered, but not now.

“Fine,” you let out. “Can we go to the bedroom now?”

“I won,” he said again. “I get a free wish. And I want to stay here, in the kitchen. And you'll do anything I say.”

His eyes had changed completely. You had expected his wish to be something silly and funny, not this. But you didn't mind. Even if outside the bedroom he was a child, you loved his dominant side that came out in times like these. If he wanted to have his way with you, you were more than willing to do that.

While you still thought about what was about to happen, he had approached you again, this time not wasting another moment. His hands went straight to your sweater, pulling upwards. Smiling happily, you lifted your arms. You hadn't had much time to have sex lately, leaving you frustrated and missing him. Missing the shape of his body, his hands on your skin and his perfect lips sending you straight to heaven.

“I missed this,” he mumbled, as if he had read your mind. While he was pressing his lips against your skin you hummed in agreement, watching his soft mouth nibble at your chest. His hands were already fumbling with your bra as your fingers tangled in his locks again. As soon as the piece of clothing came off, his fingers went to your boobs. His head appeared in front of yours again, lips wet and red. You tasted sugar when he kissed you again, his tongue taking dominance over yours right away. Your skin felt on fire where his hands touched you. They wandered down your curves, over your hips and then grabbing fistfuls of your ass. He pushed you towards him, pressing his bulge into your front. Oh, how easily this boy got turned on.

The comfortable sweatpants you had been wearing were shed off you quickly, his eager eyes eying your almost naked body. As he was still fully dressed in front of you. You felt like changing that. But as he noticed your attempt to reach for his shirt, his hands were faster. With one quick move he grabbed the material at the back of his neck and pulled. You had always wondered how men took off their shirts so easily and sexily. Your boyfriend did it best. You had barely any time to admire his body before he lowered his head to yours again. His lips ghosted above yours, heavy breaths mixing. His stare was intense, as if he was observing your eyes.

Then, he grinned cutely. You flinched when you realized why. He had dipped his fingers in the bowl of the icing and was now smearing it onto your chest. His name left your mouth in surprise but he was already licking his lips. If you had seen this in a movie, you would have laughed. Now, you were in no mood to laugh. Your breath was stuck in your throat as his hungry lips kissed around your nipples. His tongue nipped at your sensitive skin, making sure to leave purple marks. You moaned softly, closing your eyes for a few seconds. You wanted more, but you knew begging was no use. You had tried many times before, but he was stubborn. If he wanted to make you wait, he would do just that.

Suddenly, you felt his finger at your lip. On instinct, you parted them. His thumb tasted of sugary icing and you swirled your tongue around it, making sure to leave no last bit behind. He watched you intently and you knew just what to do to drive him crazy. You blinked sweetly, making sure to look extra innocent in front of him.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he pulled his thumb from your mouth. Even though he had lost his patience for a while, he caught himself quickly. He held your waist tightly as he dipped his head to the valley of your breasts. He loved kissing your body. But now, he didn't stop at your boobs. His tender kisses traveled down your waist to your belly, his hot breath fanning over your skin, making your head spin. His fingers were already linked into the material of your underwear, but he made no move to actually take them off. His eyes looked up at you for a moment, almost making your heart stop.

Then, he kissed over your still clothed center, with just slight pressure. After all this time you had no other chance than to whimper weakly, finally getting a small release. He licked a small stripe over the cotton, your wetness probably leaking through it by now. Your heart was racing, your breaths were shallow. If he didn't do anything to you soon, you were convinced you would go insane. But then he finally did. His fingers slid down your underwear, cool air hitting your center. Involuntarily, you pressed your legs together for more friction.

“You're gorgeous, angel,” he muttered, his hands gently caressing your thighs. He picked up one of them, making you put one of your legs around his shoulder. You were about to tell him to hurry, when he spoke.

“Always so patient for me,” he praised you, “Good girl.”

Then, his lips finally touched you. He knew you well, knew your most sensitive spots and weaknesses. But he wasn't going for that just yet. With small kitten licks he made you whimper, your hands instantly burying in his hair again. You wanted to urge his face closer to you, to find more release, but his hands found your wrists first. Gently, he took your hands, holding them on either side of you, by the kitchen counter you were leaning against. He wanted you to be good for him whilst he continued his sweet torture. But you weren't sure if you would be able to. For a few seconds, his lips closed around your clit, sucking softly. You let out a shaky breath, followed by a moan when he found another spot right away. He was playing a bittersweet game. He knew he would have to quicken his actions if he wanted you to come. But that wasn't what he wanted. He took his time, while your legs trembled beneath his kisses and your head was full of pleasure and eagerness.

If only he hadn't won the stupid contest. You could be having sex right now. Instead you felt as if you were hanging on the edge of your orgasm, but not able to find your release. You whimpered, hoping he would understand your silent begs.

“Baby, you can't come yet,” he said, sternly but with a gentleness in his voice that you couldn't resist. You nodded, humming a 'yes', while you had trouble keeping your eyes open. His tongue was licking small figure eights onto your sweet spot, but they were so slow. Too slow. You had goosebumps from where his hands gently brushed over your wrists and your legs felt as if they were going to give in any second. You needed to come. You needed to.

“H/N, please,” you cried, your hands forming fists in frustration. In response, you realized he slowed down his small licks even more. You groaned quietly, your eyes fixed on his soft hair between your legs.

“You know I don't like it when you beg,” he muttered against your clit. “I won, so be good for me.”

You mumbled a yes, expecting him to continue his actions. To your surprise, he stopped, looking up at you. Then, he gently took your leg from around his shoulder and got up. The sweet boy you had fought with over the gingerbread house was gone. His gaze on you almost intimidated you as he got closer, his breath on your lips. The burning between your legs was almost unbearable, but you forgot about it for a moment when he kissed you. This time, you didn't care about his warnings. Your hands went to the front of his sweatpants, palming his member through the material. His groan in your mouth sounded almost agonized. You knew he was a giver, but his low moans were the most beautiful sound in the world to you.

“Wait here, don't move,” he ordered before kissing you one more time. Then, he left the kitchen. Your legs pressed together involuntarily, the anticipation almost too much to handle. When he finally came back, he had a condom in his hand and the smile he gave you reminded you of his normally cheerful character. You watched him remove his pants while you tried to calm your unsteady breath.

“Turn around for me, will you?” he asked. You wasted no second to do so. Behind you, you heard the sound of the condom wrapper. The cold of the kitchen counter gave you a sudden shiver, your hands laying flat on the surface. The warmth of his body as he bent over you was a stark contrast. He placed a kiss on your shoulder, just as his fingers came to slip between your legs again. By now you were dripping wet, your entire body responding to every small pressure on your swollen clit. You let out a dragged out whimper, your fingernails digging into your palms in utter frustration.

“Is my baby sensitive?” he asked, his breath fanning your ear. Not answering, you simply nodded, a shaky breath escaping your lips as his fingers pressed tightly against your sweet spot. You felt his other hand run over your sides, down to your ass. A moment later he pushed the tip of his cock against your folds. After all this time you had no more control over your response. You moaned weakly when he thrust all the way into you, sharply before pulling almost all the way out. He had straightened up, holding your hips as he picked up pace quickly. You were finally getting the release you had waited for, making you close your eyes in bliss. The sound of his hips slamming against your ass, mixed with both of your moans filled the room. His name fell from your lips, knowing he loved it when you said it. His thrusts were hard, his fingers digging into your skin, hands all over you. For a moment you wished you could have seen him that moment. You knew you were nearing your high, your eyes barely able to stay open and focused. As if he knew, he suddenly slowed down his thrusts down until he was fucking you gently and way to slow for your liking. You whimpered again, your eyes weakly blinking as he bent over you again. His pink lips almost brushed your ear.

“Do you wanna come now, angel?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” you begged, nodding eagerly. His cock brushed over your g-spot so slowly, you thought you were seeing stars.

“You're so hot like this,” he breathed into your ear. For a couple seconds, he watched you, as you submit to his teasing, your mouth hanging open in pleasure.  Suddenly, he snapped his hips forward, instantly quickening his thrusts again. At the same time, his hand found its way to your front again, rubbing your clit in quick circles. You knew you weren't gonna last long, as your wall tightened around his member, making him curse under his breath. His voice was raw and raspy, leaving your stomach turning in excitement. You knew he was allowing you to come now. Although even if he hadn't, you wouldn't have been able to hold it back any longer. As your orgasm washed over you, your legs shook, and you were glad your upper body was on the counter, holding you up. He rode out your high, removing his fingers from your center only after a while, as his thrusts became sloppy. You were still feeling complete bliss as he too, found his high. His fingers on your skin must have left marks from how tightly he was holding you. He moaned your name, before slowing down and carefully pulling out fully.

Your chest heaved against the cold counter, but your skin was burning hot. Your boyfriend came beside you, bending down to your face. Gently, he brushed away your hair and kissed your cheek.

“I love you,” he said. Your lips crinkled into a smile, eyes still closed in happiness. 

[akapeterman]

craving the past

Peter's down with the flu at the lake house, but his insecurities get the best of him and he doesn't let Tony know. Unfortunately, things get a whole lot more hectic than he intends, and the whole situation spirals out of his control.

link to read on ao3

Peter was really starting to get sick of this headache. 

It was low grade, more annoying than anything else, but the pain was there; scrambling his focus and mildly irritating his enhanced senses. 

He just wanted it gone.

He was staying at the lake house for spring break, and Mr. Stark had warned him that Morgan was recovering from a bug and by result was stir crazy and cranky from being cooped up for so long. Morgan was a force to be reckoned with, sick or not, and listening to her throw a tantrum was not at the top of his bucket list with this headache. Mr. Stark had said they could reschedule if he wanted, but May was going to Mexico for the week with Happy and Peter had decided it would be better for his anxiety if he was keeping busy and around people. 

Standing outside searching for Mr. Stark’s car, squinting against the sunlight, he was wondering if he made the wrong choice. 

He didn’t want to be alone, not really, but he was really tired and didn’t want to worry anyone. And Mr. Stark could always tell when he hadn’t been sleeping enough, so he had no chance with trying to hide it. 

A car pulled up in front of him and the window rolled down to reveal a familiar face, but not the one he was expecting. 

“Hop in, kid,” Happy grumbled. “It’s technically my day off and I have to be on time to meet May after her shift is over.”

Peter buckled himself into the car, glancing curiously at the head of security beside him. 

“Where’s Mr Stark?”

“What, I’m not good enough for you?” Peter rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean. I just thought he was supposed to pick me up today.”

“Pep had to run into the office and Tony didn’t want to bring Morgan all the way down here; I don’t know if he warned you, but she’s pretty cranky right now.”

“Oh. Yeah he did, yeah, that makes sense.” Peter couldn’t explain why his chest tightened at the fact. He shivered and pulled his knees up onto the seat to try and keep warm; when had it gotten so cold?

Happy gave him an odd look that Peter couldn’t quite read before turning his eyes back to the road. He opened his mouth then closed it again. 

“Kid, you’re usually talking my ear off by now. Are you alright?” Happy finally asked, somewhat awkwardly.  

“Sorry, yeah. I’m good. Just had a long day at school.” 

“Okay. Just checking.” 

Peter rested his head on the window, feeling the cool glass ebb away at his ever pounding skull. He zoned out, staring as the roads turned twisty and the city noise faded into the background. 

He didn’t sleep, though he wished he could. In all honesty, Peter kind of assumed this might be where his headache was coming from; he was so tired, but for the past few days, no matter what he just couldn’t seem to sleep. It seemed pointless to even try closing his eyes, so he just watched the trees zoom by in blurs of green.

The hours passed quickly, until finally Peter felt the car pull into the familiar gravel driveway. Happy got out of the car first, grabbing Peter’s backpack out of the trunk. 

Peter was a little slower. His brain took a moment to process that they had stopped, he still felt like he was moving. He opened his door and went to get his bag from Happy, but the moment his feet hit the rocky ground, black and white dots flashed across his vision and he stumbled. 

“Woah…”

A firm hand planted itself on Peter’s upper arm and everything slowly came back into focus. Shit. This was worse than he thought. 

“Peter, eyes on me.” Happy snapped his fingers in front of his face and Peter swatted his hand away. 

“I’m good, I’m good.” Happy gave him a look.

“You almost just took a swan dive into the gravel, try again.” 

“I just need to eat something. I was finishing my Spanish homework at lunch and didn’t really have time to eat, my blood sugars probably low.” Not a total lie, he did skip lunch, but that was more attributed to the vague nausea accompanying his headache than to his Spanish homework. 

Happy looked skeptical but nodded.

“Go get Tony to make you something to eat, I’ll bring your stuff in.” Peter immediately straighted. 

“Wait, no. Please don’t tell Mr Stark about the whole...you know. ‘Victorian lady’ moment,” Peter pleaded. 

“No can do, kid. He’s on a need to know basis when it comes to your health.” 

“Please, Happy.” Peter flashed him his puppy dog eyes and Happy relented.

“Fine. But go eat.” Peter gave him a thumbs up and walked towards the door with Happy not far behind picking up his bags, grumbling under his breath.

“Damn kid, making me soft.” 

-

Inside the house was a disaster. There were open children’s books and various toys strewn across the floor, a couple cushions pulled off the couches and something was boiling over on the stove. 

Still, Peter felt himself relaxing immediately as the familiar, homey environment welcomed him. He wasn’t even aware he was still so cold until the warmth from the fireplace eased up his shaking hands.

Tony walked down the hall at the sound of the door, looking as exhausted as Peter felt, and he held a finger to his lips when he saw Peter. 

“Good to see you, kiddo,” Tony greeted quietly. “Morgan finally fell asleep after the 50th bedtime story today, so no big ragers tonight, you hear?” Peter smiled.

“Hey, Mr. Stark.” Tony’s posture changed, eyes more alert as he sized up Peter’s appearance. 

“You only call me that when something’s up, and you’re pale. What happened?” 

Happy chose that moment to chime in from the open doorway.

“Kid’s hungry. He hasn’t eaten since lunch, his blood sugar is probably tanking right now.” Peter turned to shoot Happy a venomous look and the older man just shrugged back. Luckily Tony didn’t notice the exchange and clasped his hands together.

“Now that I can fix. What’re you feeling like, Pete? We’re getting takeout tonight, but in the meantime we have a little leftover pasta, some soup—oh hell.” Tony’s eyes landed on the pot that was bubbling over and spilling onto the ground and he rushed to turn off the stove.

Peter made a beeline for one of the couches the minute Tony’s attention was off him, fatigue pulling at his body and melting him into the cushions. 

He kind of spaced out again, tuning into the white noise inside his head. He heard Tony invite Happy to stay for dinner and Happy decline, explaining he had to meet May at the airport on time for their flight to Mexico. 

Happy left with a “see ya later” over his shoulder and then it was just Peter and Tony. 

Tony, having cleaned up his mess, came and sat at the end of the couch and threw a protein bar at Peter. 

“Eat up, buttercup. I’m gonna order in dinner soon, what do you feel like?” 

Peter had absolutely no appetite, but he knew he had to eat. Stupid enhanced metabolism. 

“Um...I’m not really sure.”

“Come on, kid. Don’t you have any preference? Pizza, Chinese...Thai?” Peter tried not to show his discomfort as his stomach sloshed warningly at the talk of food. 

“Yeah, um, Thai sounds good. Is Pepper gonna want anything?” 

“Pep is staying overnight at the Compound to oversee some SI stuff, so it’s just us for the night. Kiddo, I hate to say it, but I am exhausted. Morgan is a real handful when she’s sick. Is it alright if we postpone our lab day and turn in after dinner?”

Peter nodded, both relieved and disappointed. That pang in his chest was back, and Peter felt bad. He hated to admit it, but he was a little jealous of Morgan. He kind of missed spending a ton of time with Tony, and he craved being around people right now but didn’t want to intrude and add more to Tony’s plate. Peter internally scolded himself for allowing himself to feel this way at all. He was just overtired, he shouldn’t be thinking he was a priority over Tony’s actual sick actual daughter. 

“Pete?” Peter startled when Tony tapped his arm to get his attention, realizing he had zoned out again. That was happening a lot today. 

“Hm? Sorry, yes. That sounds good.” 

 “You look dead on your feet, bud. When’s the last time you got a full night of sleep?”

“A few nights ago. Junior year is kind of kicking my ass, I’ve had a lot of homework,” Peter lied. Yes, he’s had tons of work, but even when he didn’t, he still couldn’t sleep. No amount of Melatonin or counting sheep seemed to change the fact that he was chronically awake. 

Tony seemed to believe that, but despite the lie, he still looked concerned. 

“An early night will be good for you, then.” Tony concluded, then stood up to start putting the cushions from the floor back in the missing places on the couches. Distantly, Peter wondered when Tony had become so mundane.

- 

Later that night, once Peter had picked at his Thai food and inconspicuously wrapped a good portion of it in his napkin that he threw out as soon as he got the chance, Peter finally worked up the courage to ask to watch a movie with Tony before they headed to bed. He didn’t know why asking made him feel so weird, they had watched movies all the time together before. Before everything had changed, and Peter had arrived back in a world that had seemingly moved on without him; a world where Tony had a kid who was biologically his.

But now, asking for something like this felt like such a big task, no matter how much the rational part of Peter’s brain assured him it wasn’t. When Tony agreed and tossed him the remote to pick out a movie while he went to the kitchen to whip up some popcorn, Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

“Get it together, Parker,” he scolded himself, rubbing at his eyes in hopes of dulling the slowly worsening ache in his head, “Tony doesn’t have time for you to start losing it.” 

By the time Tony returned, Peter had dropped his hand from his forehead and the familiar opening credits to The Hunger Games were playing on the TV. 

Tony sat down by Peter on the couch with a bowl of popcorn he set down on the coffee table and Peter allowed himself to stretch his legs over Tony’s, feeling a little touch-starved and unwell. 

Not even twenty minutes into the movie, when Peter was finally starting to relax and his eyes were beginning to droop, a familiar voice came from the top of the steps. 

“Daddy,” Morgan sobbed, “I had a bad dream.” Tony shot Peter an apologetic look in the dull light of the TV as he stood up and headed up to Morgan. 

“Hey, Maguna. It’s okay, I can stay with you until you fall asleep again,” Tony said gently. Clearly overtired and cranky. Morgan stomped her foot, tears and snot running down her face looking overall very distraught.

“I’m not going back to bed. The bad dreams will come back!” Morgan cried even harder, and the way her little voice was rising was amplifying Peter’s headache with vengeance. He covered his ears with his hands but it wasn’t enough to block everything that was going on from his enhanced senses. 

“What if you sleep in my room tonight, sweetheart? I’ll scratch your back if you want, and I’ll be right next to you if the bad dreams come back.” 

Morgan sniffed, pawing tiredly at her eyes with her hands, and nodded slowly. 

“I’ll be back down soon,” Tony said over his shoulder as he picked her up and walked down the hall to his bedroom. 

Peter, now awake as ever due to the unrelenting pain in his head and otherwise crippling insomnia, paused the movie as he waited for Tony to come back down. As the minutes ticked by, Peter grew more skeptical. Surely Tony was at least going to say goodnight before going to bed? Eventually, as fifteen minutes became thirty, and thirty became an hour, Peter realized that Tony wasn’t coming back down. He pressed play on the movie and 

The feeling in his chest burned more intensely than ever as he curled up into a ball and fell into a fitful sleep.

-

Peter woke up on the couch disoriented and overheated. There were vaguely hushed voices coming from the kitchen and there was a blanket over his shoulders that definitely wasn’t there when he fell asleep. It was a nice gesture, no doubtedly from Tony, but he was sweating buckets already and he pushed the blanket to the ground in an attempt to escape the uncomfortable heat . 

More awake now, he noticed he felt decidedly way worse than yesterday. The little bit of sleep he’d gotten hadn’t helped in the slightest, and he felt overall really shitty. Despite being really hot, he was shivering as though he were cold and his senses were dialled up. Damn. This sucked. He took a few deep breaths to try and regulate his temperature, and it worked a little. 

Morgan was standing on a stool and trying to grab a wooden spoon from where it was sitting on the counter behind a few loose pans. 

“Oops!” Morgan giggled as she knocked them off and all the pans clattered around her. 

“Shhhh, Peter is sleeping.” Peter chose that moment to make his presence known. 

“No I’m not,” he mumbled tiredly, finally feeling steady enough to swing his feet around so they hit the ground. 

“Petey!” Morgan yelled, her feet pattering against the floor as she ran over to him. She threw herself into his arms. He stumbled, almost going back down as he swayed but managed to keep his footing.

“You seem to be feeling better, Mo,” Peter noted, putting her down almost immediately and bracing himself on the arm of the couch. If she seemed put out by this, she didn’t show it. 

“My tummy doesn’t even hurt anymore! But Daddy said I couldn’t have pancakes today like you and I was really sad but instead I get oatmeal with apple slices and a juice pop at lunch if I’m good,” Morgan said excitedly. 

“That’s good. Did you sleep well last night?” Peter said, trying to keep his voice light. Tony grimaced despite Peter’s best efforts to avoid the topic.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I meant to come down and finish the movie with you but I ended up passing out alongside Morgan.” “Oh, don’t worry about it,” Peter said, the feeling in his chest coiled tighter than ever. “I conked out on the couch pretty much as soon as you left. You were right, I was pretty tired.” Another lie. Peter really was starting to weave himself into a web of them. 

“Still, I feel bad. Which is why I made you pancakes: just the way you like with triple the amount of chocolate chips than socially acceptable. With strawberries on the side.”

“I helped!” Morgan chimed in. Peter took in the mess of the kitchen, the sugar spilled across the counter, the broken egg on the floor and the flour in Morgan’s hair. 

“I can see that.” Morgan beamed. 

Tony finally looked up from the sizzling pancake on the pan and took in Peter’s disheveled appearance. 

“Woah, kid. You’re looking a little green around the gills there. You alright?” Peter thought about telling the truth, but then he looked down at the excitable little girl currently hanging onto his leg, and he forced a nod instead. 

“Oh yeah, totally. Got a bit of a headache, but that’ll be fixed with some food.” Tony gave him an odd look, before seemingly believing him. 

“Alright, there’s some pancakes there you can get started on before I’m done all these. Go ahead and get started.”

Peter was able to force down a pancake and a half before he felt the nausea return at full force. His mouth filled with saliva and his throat tightened and he knew he was only minutes away from disaster.   

“Hey, I never really got the chance to unpack last night. I think I’m gonna head to my room and take a shower, put away all my stuff, all that.” Peter put all his effort into keeping his voice as steady as possible. 

“Sounds good, bud.” Tony said absently, distracted by the animated story Morgan was currently telling about some of the other kids in her Kindergarten class.  

The minute Peter stepped into his room and closed the door behind him, he headed immediately to the ensuite bathroom and turned the shower on full blast. 

Then, he kneeled in front of the toilet and promptly puked up his breakfast. He heaved hard and tried to be as quiet as possible as tears of exertion ran down his face.

He was undeniably sick. 

Shit. He needed to tell Tony. He wanted his super-kid meds that Bruce had synthesized for him, and honestly, he also just wanted a hug. When he was home, May always cuddled with him when he wasn’t feeling well. He longed for that kind of comfort right now.  

Peter actually did hop in the shower once his stomach settled, and the warm water helped his aching muscles feel better. He changed into a pair of sweats and pulled on an old t-shirt of Ben’s he didn’t even realize he had packed. 

Peter supposed he should have figured out he was sick before now. He didn’t really get sick as often anymore, but when he used to he would always put on Ben’s old clothes.

He practiced saying the words in his head as he walked down the hall on shaky legs, anxious for no real reason. It was his fever, mostly, but also in part a very real insecurity that had planted itself in his head since the Reversal that Tony wouldn’t care about him anymore the moment he became a burden. He had his own daughter now, afterall. Still, he took a deep breath and spoke.

“Um, Mr Stark, I’m not really—” 

“One sec, Pete. Morgan’s throat hurts again, can you grab her a juice pop from the freezer while I get the thermometer from the bathroom?” 

“Oh. Yeah, sure.” “Wait, Petey. Lift me up, I wanna get it out of the box myself but Mommy puts them on the top shelf so I can’t reach them,” Morgan said, tugging on Peter’s sleeve. Peter ran a shaky hand over his face. 

“Sure, Mo,” he said tiredly. He picked her up under the armpits, and Peter wishes he could turn back time and erase what happened next. 

Somehow Morgan’s little foot had gotten tucked partially into his hoodie pocket when he lifted her up, and as he went to put her down, she tried to pull her foot out. The sudden movement knocked him off balance, and Morgan tumbled into the kitchen counter behind them, arm outstretched. 

Her shriek is not one Peter will ever forget.

“Oh my god, Morgan!” Peter knelt down to see what was wrong, but black and white spots in his eyes had him sitting down all the way. Tony ran down in panic at the sound of his daughter’s sobbing.

“What the hell happened?” Tony asked frantically, getting on the floor with them and checking Morgan over from head to toe.

“Peter dropped me!” Morgan bawled.

 “Jesus, Peter! What were you thinking?” Tony’s words stung more than a slap in the face. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Tony’s expression was stony and unreadable as he wrapped Morgan up in a blanket and into his arms, avoiding her arm as she continued to sob. 

“I’m taking her to the hospital. Her arm is already swelling, I don’t want to risk it being broken and us not getting it checked.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said again, trying to keep his voice from trembling. Tony didn’t pay him any attention, focusing solely on trying to calm Morgan down.  

 “Rhodey will be here before I’m back, he’s coming for lunch. Please clean up the kitchen while we’re gone. And for the love of God, Peter. She’s just a little kid. You have to be more careful.” 

Tony was loading Morgan into the car within minutes, and even after they pulled out of the driveway, Morgan’s sobs echoed in his head. She had been crying because of him.

The feeling in his chest was burning now, like a fire spreading to his head and stomach as he watched them pull out of the driveway. He tried to make his way to his room so he could lie down, but he had to stop in the hall when he got too dizzy to move forward. 

Just standing there unable to move, he let his guilt bubble to the surface. 

None of this would’ve happened if he’d just stayed away. He wouldn’t have dropped Morgan, she wouldn’t have even been in danger if he hadn’t come over. Her arm would be fine, she wouldn’t be hurt. God, he couldn’t forget the way she was wailing. That was his fault. His fault. Heat was rolling over him in waves, suffocating heat. He tried to take in a breath, and oh god. He couldn’t breathe. 

His knees hit the ground hard as he tried to heave air into his lungs, embarrassment and guilt and so many other unrecognizable emotions were all bundled up and being amplified by his fever. 

He was so overwhelmed, so dizzy, and everything was dialed to eleven. He tugged his nails across his skin, hoping to get relief from how tight his skin felt against him. He felt so claustrophobic, everything was way too much. How could he be so goddamn stupid. 

Ever since coming back from the Snap, everything was different. Tony had Morgan now. He had the kid he’d always needed. And now Peter was losing Tony, and he had no way of getting him back if that happened. That’s how it always worked, anyone he trusted and loved like a father was taken away from him. 

Ben. 

Oh god. Peter sobbed into his hands, hard, his whole body shaking. He missed him. The way Ben would hold him tight when he was sick, the way he always knew instantly when he wasn’t feeling well. Ben always knew what he needed, often before Peter himself even knew. Peter craved that feeling of love more than anything else right now, and all he could do was cry in its absence. 

In the midst of his panic attack, he hadn’t even heard the door open. 

“Peter?” A soft voice called from the door. Pepper was home from work. “Tony texted me the situation and—oh my god. Peter!” Peter only cried harder as he heard Pepper rushing into the hallway, her every step feeling like it was pounding straight into his skull. 

“Are you bleeding anywhere? Holy shit, Peter, what’s going on?” Pepper kneeled down beside him, hesitant to touch but hovering her hands nearby. 

“I want Ben,” he cried, beginning to feel detached from his body. His head felt fuzzy and he found himself struggling to stay conscious. Pepper made a soft noise.

“Come here, honey,” she said, opening her arms. Peter melted into her embrace, and Pepper gasped a little as his skin made contact. “How long have you had a fever?” 

But Peter was beyond words at this point. Being wrapped in her arms only made him cry harder. He didn’t deserve this; didn’t she know who’s fault it was that his daughter was in the hospital? His breathing picked up again, he was going through the motions but no air was entering his lungs.

“I need you to breathe with me, alright? Inhale for 4, hold for 7, let out for 8. Can you do that with me, sweetheart?” 

Peter managed to keep up with her as she counted, and his breathing slowly began to even out. but the tears didn’t stop falling. Nothing felt real at this point, he was floating and detached and void of all feeling but fear and hurt. 

He could vaguely make out Pepper’s voice talking to someone else, but he couldn’t focus on anything. 

“Rhodey, thank god. He’s burning.” There was another hand that moved against his forehead, this one rougher than Pepper’s soft touch, but none less gentle. 

“We need to get him into the tub. I’ll carry him there, can you go ahead and fill the bath? Less than halfway with lukewarm water.” Rhodey was talking seriously, and he sounded scared. Peter was losing a grip on his surroundings. 

“And call Tony. Ask him what symptoms Peter’s had since he’s been here.”

“I will.” A soft kiss was pressed to his hairline before footsteps retreated down the hall. 

That was the last thing he processed before everything went black.

[pileofmixtape]

The Problem With Metaphors

…is that even I lose track of what I’m trying to convey with them.

There’s some multi-tiered story to be told on guilt, emotional manipulation, and confirmation bias. And how when you take those ingredients and bundle them up into a story you get today’s society in a goddamn nutshell.

Everybody is a bowl of cookie dough just waiting to be shaped and prepared for it’s various stages of existence. You’ve got the initial mixture of ingredients – the formative years, the development of personality, the life experiences that will enchant and haunt for decades, etc. You’ve got everyone’s cracked eggs. Their ¾ cup of sugar. Their salt. Their builder-uppers, baking powder.  Their flour. You’ve got their laughs. Their tears. Their foundation. And you take that and you mix it up into a conglomeration of dissonance and feeling.

And then you take that batter and you squish it. And you roll it. And you work out the chunks. And you get it smoothed out and hope for the best. You spread it out, flour the cookie cutters, and begin to shape it. And that shape is your choice. Today a square. Tomorrow a circle. Or we release the choice and just stick balls on a hot tray and let them melt how they’re gonna. It’s a personal decision.

And then you stick those in an oven and that’s when the real existence comes to play. Are the cookies going to meld together? Are they gonna rise? Melt? Is the correct ingredient combination going to result in the perfect golden-crisp delicacy? And how long to cook them? When do you take them out to share with the world?

And everyone has a different consistency. Everyone has a different origin story. Everyone works and functions and grows differently. Some cookies came in a pre-made dough container. Some were built through love and effort. Some were thrown together in seconds, with no real measure of ingredients. Some cookie dough is frozen, and the baking process is postponed. Some never get to baking. Some burn in the oven. Some come out fine. The cookies on the plate, waiting to be eaten. Welcome to adulthood.

The eagle-eye view of it all is that there is no correct way to exist. But everyone can agree that some cookies taste good, and others taste bad. Some cookies aren’t one persons taste, and others are their favorite. You will never find a cookie that will satiate the needs of every person in existence.

But every cookie is a cookie. And every cookie needs a reminder of that sometimes.

And here’s my current dilemma. If the dough needs flour, adding salt won’t do the trick. If the dough needs baking powder, adding sugar won’t do the trick. A lacking ingredient isn’t an excuse for substitution and experimentation. Add the damn ingredient. Recipes exist for a reason. You can add or subtract certain ingredients as you wish, but the base level idea stays consistent.

And when you’re inexperienced in baking, it can be hard to recognize what ingredient is missing. Why is the dough coating my hands? Why is the dough so clingy? Adding sugar will just granulate the mixture. What it needs is flour. It DEFINITELY doesn’t need additional salt.

Sometimes cookies are soft. And sometimes cookies are hard. There isn’t an issue with either option – it’s just their nature. Sometimes a cookie crumbles under pressure. Or as an act of rebellion. Sometimes a cookie crumbles as a statement which just proves to everyone else that the missing ingredient was, in fact, not sugar. But flour.

And sometimes you have to let the cookie experience this for itself. Sometimes you have to step back and let the cookie rise and fall and know what to change in the future. We are all both the baker and the cookie.

It’s not always apparent what the correct methodology for cookies is. And there is not correct cookie recipe. There will never be a 100% perfection cookie recipe. It’s all trial and error.

I guess my point is that everybody has their flaws and their pros and their existence. And it’s nearly impossible to perceive interpersonal interactions without dousing everything in confirmation bias or guilt. Your cookie preference. Your recipe ideas. What you think is right, what you think is wrong. What you add to your cookies. And at what point do you listen to your head over your gut? At what point is something truly a fault. And at what point are you just placing unnecessary amounts of blame on yourself for something that you feel? While forgiveness and understanding are necessary parts of day to day interactions, there are still things that you’re allowed to focus in on. You don’t have to overlook everything, you don’t have to forget everything. Forgiveness isn’t tied exclusively to forgetting. Dough is dough, but some mistakes are easy to avoid. Some mistakes don’t have to be forgiven. Some recipes aren’t for everyone. But that doesn’t mean you have to ignore them. If you’ve eaten a cookie with ¾ cup of salt instead of sugar, you’re not going to want that cookie twice. You’ve seen the recipe. You know it’s game.

And you can’t protect people from the cookies. Because they’re going to see the outside, and if they never truly take a bite, they’ll never truly know. Be true to your recipe. And know your truths. Through it all, a cookie is always going to just be a cookie.

See? I’ve lost track of where I’m going with this.

That’s the problem with metaphors. Even I lose track of what I’m saying.

[noisybananatree]

lifeboost coffee reviews

Hello there this is pawan taking into consideration habitat grounds where our primary goal is to mitigation you brew enlarged coffee in the comfort of your own home today is to some degree invigorating its reliably humorous to profit a bureau and for this situation we have a pack from lifeboost coffee the certifiable demand as a consequences is the mannerism does it taste skillfully well see that out in a propos no times yet first we ought to investigate at what came in our tiny pack proficiently I had the unintended to publicize to you the Roma rising occurring out of this compartment suggests that most likely.

It genuinely is just probably as astounding as is ordinarily said Oh regularly created Mountain coffee this one is french vanilla Im not by and large the best promoter of upgraded coffees the advancement is greatly enlarged contrasted furthermore it was 25 years earlier exactly once I got exhausted of it this is a in the push away-off well along one this is what weas regards discussing characteristic Nicaraguan this is a light chef holding WB Organic Nicaraguan inoffensive chef right presently its colder season concerning the Oregon coast and Im genuinely valuing faint chef coffee this is in when vent particularly stimulating white Russia and I have as of late unequivocally the sweater for this and.

I declare you will that is basically my appraisal man anyway well get conformity of a dab of the man behind this one common Nicaraguan a medium amassed bean publicize you will it or not Im going in report to the subject of the subject of this second we should begin as soon as the medium just to smell them its dazzling something that I adulation roughly a medium dinner is where you profit a woody toilet water to it as soon as pleasurable startling hardwood recently saying in the region of what very approximately we take a tiny bundle 

I can skirmish out you here this is an unfathomable concealing its a heavenly medium mahogany Brown it has a wonderful smell to it today were returning again to the unloading that I did actually we have three unmistakable options from vibrancy make known coffee now vibrancy idolize has a genuinely in worried after upon the web people who adulation their coffee genuinely praise their coffee consequently we traditional to you know take it to few inclinations a model a bit and upheaval to figure out you comprehend would could it be that that people high regard roughly it for an opening all lifeboost coffee is 100% normally evolved moreover suitably fused composts in the earth or everything subsequent to that lifeboost doesnt have all for that defense in that wisdoms its naturally cautious they along with make a attain of a ton to the degree bird protected and innocuous to the biological system. lifeboost coffee reviews

imitate you can have an inspirational position upon talking limitless oversight greater than how the beans are grown how theyapproaching harvested how theyon the order of taken care of the coffee beans themselves the green beans go through a pattern of not truly aeration out they ascetic them you know natural segments that can make people weakened or that you can be throb to appropriately liveliness serve is found it by drying to vibes all along the coffee by now its back its cooked they prevent the entirety of this anyway for all the ethical testing roughly how deliberately its created and the clinical help of the flavor in which its pre-agreed what does it taste as well as Ill profit the lone reachable contrary. lifeboost coffee reviews

in the disaffect-off eliminated first and that cant avoid creature that upon the off inadvertent that you genuinely adoration third reply coffee if you search out those incredible okay item seasons that slant out in a cup this doesnt have those citrus remarks and you know adding apple that you obtain in a segment of these high best in class third nod coffee that is from the acids yet considering you ensue a demean destructive it takes flavors from a performing arts come in the bean in here you will acquire youll acquire a segment of the cellulose system of the coffee bean itself it smells along with youve as of late walked scratchily

An uncommonly tall a furniture shop subsequently the showing off that the odor of glamorous hardwood is just its basically wonderful in this understandable of a on-visitation of a more settled style of coffee in the occasion that youve at any mitigation wound occurring saying you admit I compulsion a cup of coffee that inclinations moreover coffee theres worthy unintentional you gone one of these so we ought to get your hands on to without auxiliary ado. lifeboost coffee reviews

you know admit on that in the mug enormously chocolate this has the most surprise of all them three there are yet again again again its not acidic it wont be you know herbal or fruity regardless, it is outstandingly impressive this is a sublime mug especially for somebody who favors a lighter expose and coffee that is the bank account fresh dishes fresh impression we impure this one by the course for suggestion in the hari OB 60 following the quirk that hari o considering its faster pull down works viably of isolating just the underlying two parts that is the acids and fats and the sugars as well as, caramels from the coffee nevertheless the medium dish genuinely hits the spot approximately speaking an excellent well-off full enlarged cup of coffee. lifeboost coffee reviews

themselves hence its a full bodied additionally, the thicker channel papers will in general appeal a more noteworthy produce a consequences of the mid-range out of the cup and this one has by and by its begin and postpone that weve observed that is suitable very approximately the count two lighter cooks yet it gets the fairly toasted parts theres a small trace of toasted marshmallow that a bit of an of a smoky tang which I also not each and every single one one one of single one one of person excepts I hero worship it but rather it actually has the mysterious imprint the space profile of the others the same beans same farm thesame taking care of the another this makes incredible coffee.

I would be glad to beverage any of them I think I when the medium dishes the best for what I go off in coffee furthermore to the three tape bean coffee is roomy medium and tame dish we in behind heavens got in our little shipment two enlarged coffees had a colossal contribution in upgraded coffees an office I worked in various a long epoch back where we had these mylar pockets overflowing when Irish cream enlarged coffee which was OK gone it was count notwithstanding, as well as than you stroll vis--vis an office setting likewise, theres this much left in the commencement of the pot and its been roosted upon the hot plate for an hour I got more than prepared coffees in facilitate they burn-through. lifeboost coffee reviews

nobody needs it behind the exception of that was a long period in the in the by now and it raised something the entire pleasing to me as a outcome Ive endeavored these whats more, in reality the whole fabulous the White Russian I dependence to make this in my little Bialetti Moka pot and a quick era superior pour it anew a bowl of knocked out yogurt for the affogato of the heavenly creatures or if nothing else of the man in stroke youon speaking an upon the off chance that youconcerning a enthusiast of The Big Lebowski this is in fact all right and I think there are two clarifications at the rear that one of them is that I in approach toward of fact understand on amid the habit that I had some greater than before coffee not in the estrange in the p.s. that horrified me behind how detestable it wasnt mindful man theres a compensation here.

I think the upgrading be in poor health ahead the garnishing that theyas regards using presently are far along to they were a long time bearing in mind yet, explicitly considering the war of the existence by now coffee the everyday coffee is wonderful I find the child support for that 2530 years by now going on flavors were added to in fact average coffees you know beans that were basically purchased to con it down to an expense Maybe than happening to a air level every that you in imitation of very about the remainder of the existence uphold pedigree applies to these hence if you get when prepared coffee or in the concern that you compulsion to use them in these eventual fabulous in coffee blended beverages yet bearing in mind I said I really compulsion to make out of this.

So I will sanction to swine astoundingly shocked at how tasty these were the flavors are worthy they dont taste deed anyway commonly vital below it they have that comparable tidy fruition and that is something that genuinely goes for the amassed energy retain extraction as soon as you finish some coffee and you put it down every the coffee is that weve tasted from computer graphics desist depart your mouth harshly shuddering its sort of amazing and exceptionally flawless and added.

[lindafrancois]

5 Delish And Healthy Salad Recipes That Will Leave You Asking For More

Salads have always been associated with good health and less taste. What if we got you salad recipes that promote good health along without letting you compromise on the taste. Including salad recipes in your diet is a great way to incorporate small amounts of veggies and fruits into your daily routine, which goes a long way in improving your health. Salads are a powerpack of dietary fibers that keep you feeling full for a longer time and reduce hunger pangs… which means lesser calories going into your body [1]!

So here we have 5 amazingly simple and tasty salad recipes for you!   

1. Delicious Tangy Quinoa Salad with Fish Recipe

Quinoa Salad with Fish

Ingredients

Basa Fish Fillets – 500 grams

Quinoa – 200 grams

Salt – To taste

Lemon Juice – 6 tablespoons

Red Chilli Flakes – To taste

Spring Onion Bulbs – 3 medium

Parsley– handful

Roasted Yellow Capsicum – 1

Roasted Red Capsicum – 1

Olive Oil – 2 tablespoons

Sugar – 1 teaspoon

Lemon Rind – 1/2 teaspoon

Extra Virgin Olive Oil – 3 tablespoons

Method

Pour 2 cups of water into a rice cooker and add quinoa and salt to it.

Cover and cook until quinoa is nice and soft.

Sprinkle salt on fish fillets.

Add 3 tsps lemon juice and 3-4 pinches red chilli flakes and refrigerate for 15-20 minutes.

Diagonally slice spring onion bulbs and roughly chop parsley.

Remove seeds and chop roasted capsicums.

Heat olive oil in non-stick pan and place fish fillets on it.

Sprinkle salt, 2-3 pinches red chilli flakes and 2 tsps lemon juice on top. Cook, flipping sides, till both sides are evenly golden.

Combine spring onion bulbs, parsley, capsicums, salt, sugar, lemon rind, remaining lemon juice and extra-virgin olive oil in a bowl.

To this, add cooked quinoa and mix well.

Put salad on a serving dish and place cooked fish on it.

Serve warm.

2. Kabuli Chana and Red Kidney Bean Salad in Tangy Tamarind Dressing Recipe

Kabuli Chana & Red Kidney Bean Salad

Ingredients

Boiled Chickpeas – 1/2 cup

Boiled Red Kidney Beans (rajma) – 1/2 cup

Tamarind Pulp – 4-5 tablespoons

Oil – 2 tablespoons

Dices Onion – 1

Chopped Green Capsicum – 1

Chopped Red Capsicum – 1

Salt – To taste

Black Pepper Powder – 1 1/4 teaspoons

Mustard powder – 1 teaspoon

Orange Marmalade – 1 1/2 teaspoons

Extra Virgin Olive Oil – 1 teaspoon

Iceberg Lettuce – 5-6 leaves

Method

Heat oil in a non-stick pan.

Add onion, green and red capsicums, salt and ¼ tsp black pepper powder and toss.

Cook until vegetables are soft. Transfer to a bowl.

Add rajma and chana in the bowl.

To make the dressing, put tamarind pulp in a bowl.

To this, add mustard powder, salt, 1 tsp black pepper powder and orange marmalade and whisk well.

Add extra virgin olive oil and whisk again.

Tear and place lettuce leaves on a serving place.

Add dressing to salad and mix well.

Place salad on lettuce and serve.

3. Grilled Fish Salad Recipe

Grilled Fish Salad Recipe

Ingredients

Boneless Fish like Basa – 2 pieces

Boiled and Peeled Potatoes – 2

Olive Oil – 3 tablespoons

Garlic – 15 cloves

Salt – To taste

Cumin Powder – 1 teaspoon

Crushed Peppercorns – 1 tablespoon

Diced Red Capsicum – 1

Diced Yellow Capsicum – 1

Diced Green Capsicum – 1

Lemons – 3

Pickled Jalapenos – 2-3

Method

Dice the potatoes.

Heat 2 tbsps olive oil in non-stick pan, add garlic cloves and sauté until light brown.

Sprinkle some salt on a plate. Add cumin powder and crushed peppercorns and mix well.

Coat the fish pieces with this mixture.

Add all capsicum pieces to pan and toss. Add salt and toss again. Sauté for 2-3 minutes.

Cut 2 lemons into thick slices. Transfer sautéed vegetables to a bowl.

Add 1 tbsp oil to the same pan. Place 4 lemon slices in two groups on the pan and place one fish piece on each of them and cook for 2 minutes.

Place potatoes in a bowl. Chop jalapenos and add and mix well.

Squeeze juice of 1 lemon and add.

Flip fish pieces along with lemon slices and cook until both sides are equally done.

Transfer vegetables to a serving dish. Sprinkle salt on top and drizzle 2 tsps olive oil.

Place cooked fish pieces on top along with lemon slices and serve.

4. Waldorf Salad Recipe

Waldorf Salad Recipe

Ingredients

Mayonnaise – 3 tablespoons

Pineapple Slices – 4

Apples – 2

Walnuts – 1/2 cup

Celery – 2-inch stick

Iceberg Lettuce Leaves – Handful

Salt – To taste

Crushed Black Peppercorns – 1/2 teaspoon

Method

Chop celery roughly and put into a bowl.

Chop pineapple slices into chunks and put into the same bowl.

Cut the apples into halves, remove core and cut into chunks and add to the same bowl.

Add the walnuts and mayonnaise and mix well.

Tear a few iceberg lettuce leaves and add.

Add salt and crushed black peppercorns and mix well again.

Transfer into a serving plate and serve garnished with a few walnuts.

5. Refreshing Chilled Melon Ball Salad Recipe

Refreshing Chilled Melon Ball Salad Recipe

Ingredients

Watermelon – ¼

Muskmelon  – 1

For The Dressing

Fresh Orange Juice – 2 tablespoons

Salt – To taste

Black Salt – To taste

Crushed Black Peppercorns – 3-4

Lemon Juice – 2 teaspoons

Torn Fresh Mint Leaves – Handful

Method

Using a small scoop, scoop out small balls from the watermelon, discarding the seeds.

Cut the muskmelon in half and scoop out small balls from the centre. Discard all the seeds.

Put the melon balls in a bowl and leave it in a refrigerator to chill.

To make the dressing, take fresh orange juice in a bowl.

Add salt, black salt, black peppercorn and lemon juice. Mix well.

Add mint leaves and mix well.

Now place the melon balls in a serving bowl, pour the dressing over and serve chilled.

So no more dreading and postponing that salad meal! Here we have got super interesting ingredients for your salads along with easiest prep method. You can just whip up your salad in a jiffy. So what are you waiting for? Try these recipes and tell us how they turned out to be. For more such interesting and healthy ways of cooking and nourishing your mind, body and soul, talk to our Truweight Nutritionist today! The first consultation is on us.

The post 5 Delish And Healthy Salad Recipes That Will Leave You Asking For More appeared first on Blog.

5 Delish And Healthy Salad Recipes That Will Leave You Asking For More published first on https://dietariouspage.tumblr.com/