#top ten Jinx fucked up moments-

[pumakaji64]

I may or may not have just accidentally spent 4$ on my sisters Amazon Prime account to rent a Pokemon movie >.>

[hawkinsbnbg]

break your washing machine

prompts: degradation, impact, silent, full | @steddiesmuttyseptember

tags: omegaverse, friends to lovers, omega Steve, alpha Eddie, degradations, pussy spanking, vaginal fingering, squirting, breeding kink, unsafe sex, knotting, graphic depictions of boxers sniffing and licking.

word count: 2k4 | rated: E | ao3

This was by far the stupidest position Steve had gotten himself into. And no, not even Billy Hargrove's fists or Starcourt's basement or Henry Creel's dreamscape could top this.

Due to his bad memory and exhaustion after long days at work, he was out of clean briefs without his notice. Which resulted in him having to dive into his washing machine to dig out a decent pair once he finished showering.

If only Steve remembered that his laundry was mixed with Eddie's since the alpha had stayed overnight (again!), and how bad of an idea it was to squeeze his upper torso into a washing machine's tub.

But alas, Steve didn't. So now he was stuck buck naked in his washer, nose dangerously close to Eddie's soiled boxers, kneeling on the linoleum floor just outside his bathroom.

Not that he hadn't tried pulling himself out, but the cramped space hurt his shoulders and his skin wasn't slippery enough for it to work.

Moments like this made Steve thankful that he always had someone (Eddie) over his apartment. Because living alone was great and all until he got himself stuck in a washing machine with no way to call for help.

Fortunately, given Eddie's paranoia, it wouldn't be long before the alpha abandoned making breakfast in the kitchen to go check on him.

His only hope was that he would still be able to act cool by the time he was found.

———

Turned out, Steve had jinxed it. Because about ten minutes later, he was so worked up that he could feel himself leak everywhere. His face was flushed when he thought about the puddle that must be forming beneath him.

As if Steve wasn't humiliated enough, he heard faint footsteps and Eddie's concerned voice calling for his name.

"Stevie, what took you so lon–"

Steve closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to calm his nerves. A mistake. Because the strong musky scent from Eddie's boxers only pooled more heat in his belly.

"Oh sweetheart," Eddie sighed, sounding amused now. "What did you get yourself into this time?"

"I'm stuck," he whined pitifully, suddenly hyper aware that this was the first time Eddie saw his bare cunt.

He jumped slightly when a warm hand touched his lower back, thumbing his dimples and trailing down to palm his cheek.

"E– Eddie?"

"You hurt anywhere, baby boy?"

"No," Steve mumbled, ears heated up at the pet name. "I'm not hurt anywhere."

Slowly, Eddie's hand glided down, down down and Steve's breath hitched when it finally reached the forbidden part between his legs.

For a moment, the hand just rested there, cupping him in warmth and caressing the softness of his smooth skin. It made Steve feel small all of a sudden, precious in a way that got his omega purr like a cat bathing under the sun, happy as a clam.

"And what 'bout here?" Calloused fingers traced the chubby lips lightly before parting them, exposing his ripest part to the cool air. "Looks a little tense, don't you think?"

Fuck. Steve swore he could feel hot breath fanned on his center. The thought that Eddie was shamelessly sniffing his cunt made him want to arch his back more.

Then again, the casualness of it all was what really killed Steve. They hadn't even kissed, yet. And here Eddie was openly groping him.

Maybe, he should've informed Eddie he wasn't that kind of omega. But both of them would know it was a lie anyway. They hadn't been dancing around each other for months to make it weird now.

"'M fine," he insisted. "Thanks for, uhm, checking on me, though."

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," Eddie said kindly and retreating his fingers from Steve's pussy, making him whine at the loss of them. "Let me call for help and you'll be out of there soon."

Staring at Eddie's boxers in front of him, Steve swallowed dryly. He might as well be a faucet at this point with how much slick was gushing from him.

"Sorry, by the way," he licked his lips nervously. "It's not your job to deal with all of this."

"It is, though. Because I wanna take care of you," Eddie said easily, so easily that it knocked the breath out of Steve. "Which is why I gotta go make a quick phone call before you get hurt for real."

Steve didn't want to pass up this golden opportunity. So what if he was stuck in a washing machine and his horny brain decided it was a good time to bone Eddie? He was but a simple man.

"W– wait," he called out before Eddie could leave.

"It's alright," Eddie reassured him with a soft kiss pressed just above his tailbone. "I'll be right back before you know it."

Steve nearly swooned.

Nearly. Because as sweet as the gesture was, he couldn't let it distract him. Not even Eddie would be allowed to stand in his way of getting that knot inside him.

"Maybe I don't wanna get unstuck, yet," he tried to not sound like he was thinking with his pussy, but well aware that it was a vain attempt considering his arousal must've made itself known already. "Maybe this is the scene I wanna share with you."

A contemplative silence fell upon them.

"Is that why you're so wet, sweet thing?" Eddie traced lazy patterns on his inner thigh, spreading the peach-scented slick to the back of it.

Steve squirmed, cheeks flaming red at the way Eddie treated him—like a doll, a toy that was put on display and waiting to be played with.

And while his tummy burned with mortification, he didn't hate it.

He loved it. And knowing Eddie would stop immediately if he felt uncomfortable only added more fuel to the blazing flame.

"'S because of your fault," Steve let out a huff, finally giving up on the charade and grabbing Eddie's boxers to bury his nose in them.

"My fault?"

"Yeah," he admitted despite his embarrassment. "I'm so wet because of your gross boxers in here."

Steve squealed when a biting smack landed on his pussy, making an obscene squelching noise.

The impact spread on his crotch and made his thighs tremble, hurting more than ever because of how dripping wet he was.

His soggy cunt was slapped once more and Steve jolted against his volition, knocking his head on the metal interior of the washer's tub.

"Ow," he chirped, half giddy and half annoyed that the entire situation was like a funny scene extracted directly from bad porno.

It also looked like those slutty wet dreams Steve used to have in his adolescent years. Except the faceless alpha that took advantage of him was now replaced by Eddie. His best friend besides Robin as well as his hopeless crush.

"Slut," Eddie sneered, fingers rubbing his tender flesh to soothe the stinging pain. "You're sniffing them right now, aren't you?"

"N– nope," Steve blushed bright red and took in a deep breath from the dirty fabric bunched in his hand. Mouth watering at the stinky smell that acted like an addictive drug to him. It was wrong and unhygienic as hell, but Steve couldn't care less in his fugue state.

"'Course, you'd be a whore," Eddie grumbled and delved two fingers inside him with ease. Finding his g-spot after a few prodding and pumping into it relentlessly.

Steve rolled his eyes back at the intoxicant pleasure, shaking his head desperately as he undulated his hips to meet Eddie thrust by thrust, ignoring the ache in his knees. He always knew those fingers would feel good inside him. Turned out they felt even better. Heavenly.

"Nuh-uh, n– not a whore– Ah-ah-ahhhhh–"

Eddie pulled out abruptly and swatted him twice, causing Steve to keen breathlessly and tilted his ass higher, not knowing if he wanted to run away or wanted Eddie to do it again.

"Be honest or I'm gonna stop," Eddie admonished with a sharp crack on the back of his thighs and Steve keened again. Oh god. This wasn't in his plans at all when he woke up in the morning. And yet, this was everything he ever wished for.

"'M a– a whore, 'm a whore," he chanted and wiggled his hips, throwing all cautions out the window. "M– more. More, please."

"There you are," Eddie crooned, voice dipping low and silky, sending shivers throughout his body. "My pretty little slut."

Then the alpha granted his wish. Landing blow after blow in rapid succession on his cunt without mercy.

Steve wailed and shook all over, spurting profusely between his legs and on the floor. Eddie's words really fucked with his brain. They made him feel kind of floaty, lightheaded like he was drunk, made him want to bare his throat and be a good omega.

Considering the confined space was packed with his arousal and Eddie's, it wasn't hard for him to drift away, for his head to go silent as he sank down that nice dark place, as he let himself be devoured by the wildfire that set his nerves alight.

There was a blur between the transition of pain and budding pleasure until Steve tensed up when his orgasm approached the horizon. He was so close already and the constant, toes-curling spanking didn't help at all.

"Eddie," he mewled, needy and high-pitched. "Alpha."

It was all Eddie needed to stop and press open-mouthed kisses on his pussy, messy and filthy, tongue flicking out to press into his twitching hole, hot lips sealing over it to slurp all the sweetness from the very source while calloused fingers rubbing his swollen clit briskly.

The electricity zipped up his spine and Steve had no time to react before he was coming, squirting and convulsing out of his mind.

White flashed across his reeling vision and his jaw fell lax, tongue lolling out to lap at the crotch of Eddie's used boxers, soaking it with his spit as he tasted the bitter musk and salty sweat.

The orgasm seemed to last forever. Overwhelming and brain-melting. It was so intense that Steve felt like he kept coming and coming until his hearing finally returned to him once more.

"–ew you'd taste so sweet," Eddie said roughly, thumbs pulling Steve's lips apart to keep licking his pinkness. Like Eddie couldn't get enough of him. Like he was ambrosia and Eddie was the god feasting on him. "Fuck, you should see your pussy, baby boy. Looks so pretty in red."

Steve trilled when another strike landed on his puffy cunt, not as harsh as before, but still hurt like a bitch when he was this sensitive.

He came again as soon as Eddie pushed inside to the hilt. Fluttering wildly around the massive cock and drenching everything with his slick, almost hyperventilating due to the overstimulation and the lack of fresh air.

He had never felt so stretched out, so full before.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Eddie asked, strained and breathless, gripping Steve's ass so tightly that it was going to leave bruises behind. He couldn't wait to gaze at them in his bathroom mirror later.

"Full," Steve hiccuped, cross eyed as he rubbed his cheek on the soft fabrics below, loving how he was surrounded by his alpha's presence, loving how his alpha was wearing him like a snug glove. "So good, so big. Thank you, alpha, thank you, alpha–"

His babbling was cut off when Eddie pulled out to the tip and slammed right back in, knocking his brain sideways and splitting him in two. Steve clawed at the clothes around him uselessly as Eddie set up a punishing pace, punching the incoherent noises out of his lungs and bruising his ass with frantic thrusts.

He clenched his muscles just to hear Eddie growl, chirping and trilling loudly as the alpha drilled into him in earnest. Neither of them was going to last long. Not when Eddie's growing knot was catching his entrance and pushing further and further inside.

Steve was startled out of his blissful haze by the cacophonous thump, thump, thump while his surroundings started shaking like there was an earthquake.

It took him an embarrassingly long moment to realize what happened. Apparently, Eddie got a bit too excited and his ridiculous alpha's strength allowed him to rock Steve and his washer in tandem.

It shouldn't be so fucking hot.

"Jesus, Eddie– slow down!" Steve yelled. "You're gonna break my washing machine!"

"Sorry," Eddie groaned, sounding genuinely apologetic, but his hips still moved like a piston, hammering Steve's sweet spot with a terrifying preciseness. "You just feel so good, baby boy. Best cunt I've ever had, too. Should've done this sooner when I got the chance. Should've made you mine when I saw you in the boathouse. Claimed you right there and then so no one would dare to question my love for you."

The confession was too much, catching Steve off guard and rendering him delirious.

"You can– hmph– do it now," he choked out. "K– knot me, yeah? Breed me like a good alpha and give me pups."

"What if–" Eddie panted heavily, movements stuttering. "What if it doesn't catch this time?"

"We can do it every– Ohmygod–" Steve rolled his eyes back and moaned hoarsely as the thick knot popped past his hole and warmth flooded his inside.

Eddie came so much, and for a brief second, Steve feared there wouldn't be enough room for it and his tummy would end up inflated with the amount of milk pumped into him.

It wouldn't be a surprise if his birth control somehow failed and he got pregnant the next day.

———

Despite Eddie's best efforts, Steve was still dripping of cum and slick by the time help arrived.

His only saving grace was that Eddie had ventilated the entire apartment so it wouldn't be too obvious that Steve had just been dicked down within an inch of his life.

The paramedic's face was priceless at the dent on his washer, and Steve was too flustered to say anything else besides squeak out a quiet Thank you to the beta's tired Be careful next time.

"We're gonna do it every day from now on, huh?" Eddie spoke up while they were cuddling in Steve's nest later night, wearing only boxers since they wanted to be as close as possible.

According to the plan, Eddie was going to court him properly starting tomorrow. They would prepare for their mating ceremony right after Eddie received the final blessing from Claudia, and Steve got it from Wayne.

It was a long time coming and neither of them felt unsure about it anymore.

"No washing machine," he squinted and poked Eddie's dimple.

"Okay," Eddie smiled fondly and leaned in to kiss his pout away. "No washing machine."

[il-predestinato]

i just finished and that's how i foksmashed dad's championship trophy and i wanted to drop by and let you know how much i adored it!! it's so cute and i think you captured sassy's voice (or literally any other cat's lmao) perfectly. the concept was perfectly executed and i love how charles eventually won her over. 10/10 would read again to cheer myself up when ferrari inevitably fucks charles' strategy up. thank you for blessing us and i hope you have a great day 💖

Thank you so much! Aww you're so sweet. I had way too much fun writing as Sassy. 😸 And yep, it's Charles - how could he not win her over by the end? 😜

Here's a snippet to cheer you up when Ferrari inevitably fucks our weekend (please let this be a reverse jinx):

No matter how many hints she dropped ("Leaving fecal matter on his clothes is not a hint," disputed Jimmy with a disapproving frown. "Dad is going to make you take those nasty probiotics again!"), Pappje just did not seem to get the hint. She would scratch up one pair of his hideous jeans, and the next day, it would be replaced by three more - each one more hideous than the one she destroyed. At some point, she was worried that they were reproducing in his closet, spawning ever more ugly offspring jeans.

It was aggravating, to say the least. Max had her spayed, which was just unfair because whatever offspring she could have had would have been ten times more attractive than those ... unspeakable textile disasters.

Most infuriatingly, Pappje thought she was the one in need of medical attention - suggesting to Max every so often that they needed to change her diet, see the vet, and so forth because of her "accidents." She wanted to howl that her bowels were just fine, thank you very much, but he was the one who needed his eyes checked!

She was working on her latest project, clawing fiercely at a pair of paint-splattered jeans, mewling with satisfaction as her tiny claws tore small streaks in the fabric when the closet door slid open. Oh no -

Dad had caught her red-pawed.

"Hey, hey," rebuked Max, dropping to his knees to reach for the fabric. "None of that."

Max tried to gently tug the garment out from under her paws. She hissed in protest, clinging on despite his superior strength. Why doesn't he understand? She huffed in frustration. She was only trying to help Charles. He deserved better than these ghastly outfits!

"I know what you're trying to do, snoepje."

She blinked at Max in confusion.

He teased her under the chin. Reflexively, she purred into his palm.

"But if we love him," whispered Dad, rubbing her patiently across the whiskers, "and of course we do - then we love all of him."

Oh.

"Ugly jeans included."

She considered it for a moment. It was Charles who always brushed her hair with the gentlest comb, played piano lullabies for her during scary thunderstorms, and baked her favourite mackerel treats.

Lowering her head and feeling a little silly and contrite, she mewled in understanding and allowed the odious pants to slip out of her claws. Max patted the top of her head.

"It's sweet how much you try to look out for him. But maybe no more pissing and shitting on his stuff, okay?" Dad tickled her slumped form. "He suggested a colonoscopy for you the other day -" He chuckled at her alarmed squeak. "After I refused to spend €2000 on that, he accused me of not caring enough about you and said he would pay for it himself."

No, no - please, anything but that! The neighbour's terribly basic tabby cat got one last year, and it took weeks for his gassiness to clear up! She pawed and licked at Dad's hand in supplication.

"Don't worry -"

Max's reassurance was cut off as another head poked into the closet.

Charles beamed at them, sliding into the small space with Jimmy purring at his heels.

"There you are."

Sassy blinked at the sight before her and - well, she needed a moment to recover. Pappje was wearing ... what was to-date his most abominable combination of clashing colours and patterns. She suppressed the hairball that her gag reflex threatened to upchuck.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Charles, gesturing to his outfit with an eager smile.

Sassy emitted a small cough. (She was quite proud of herself.) She shot a sideways glance at Max, who to his credit, smiled indulgently back at Charles.

Pappje blinked expectantly at them.

Remembering how pleasantly warm it felt to wake up curled up against Pappje's chest that morning - and not to mention, the stack of allergy pills in the bathroom with Charles' name on them, the ones he took every day over the alternative of banishing her and Jimmy out of their bedroom - she knew exactly what to do.

She meowed her approval loudly.

It was utterly worth it as he smiled widely at her and pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose. It didn't even matter that he then did the same to Jimmy, just so he wouldn't feel left out. She licked his thumb affectionately.

"You look perfect," added Max, and thus received his kiss too, a little longer and a little more lingering, but never mind because Sassy got hers first.

When Charles pulled away, Dad shot Sassy a wink - a perfectly executed one that Pappje was never able to mimic - and mouthed to her: It's our little secret.

She sighed contently. Anything for Pappje.

-

(end)

P.S. Charles' clothes are not that hideous, but Sassy's formative years were spent learning fashion sense from Max.

P.P.S. Pappje = Charles. Dad = Max.

(original fic)

[grismelda]

The boss battle of the fucking century.

(Warning- Minor TOH finale spoilers)

We had the ‘Season Finale’ boss battle in one of the campaigns I play in. And it was a doozy.

Ok so it’s us-

Nickel: The Lawful neutral centaur artificer who has the feet potion (which i’ll explain in a moment) in his bag of holding. He has spent a 4th of the campaign falling down stairs.

The Feet Potion: an unholy concoction made from the sludge that lurks in the lowest level of the city of Sharn. It smells absolutely putrid. It has the consistency of nacho cheese, and it has a moldy green hue. It is dubbed “The feet potion”.

Drinking the feet potion will cause your feet to grow feet and those feet to grow feet, and those feet to grow feet, and so on. until your entire body is completely covered by a horrible web of feet and toes. Eventually if the effect is not reversed by dispel magic or remove curse or something with a similar effect. You will turn into a sentient foot. Once the effected has turned into a foot. The spell has to be cast at 4th level. Or you can simply stay as a foot for the rest of your natural lifespan if you desire.

These feet will match your own if you have humanoid feet. If you do not have humanoid feet, Then you will grow humanoid feet in place of whatever you have instead of feet. And not suffer any other effects.

obviously for the best effect use this potion on someone that has humanoid feet. Unless you want to see a horse with human feet.

(the best way we can think of to describe this was like that dude from spy kids hands. but it’s feet and ten times worse)

Camdyn: The Chaotic good Half elf bard who did a total of 4 damage throughout the whole fight.

Vespeirous- the lawful evil human blood hunter. Who spent most of the fight trying to not fall to his doom

Jinx- A chaotic neutral changeling sorcerer that was probably the mvp of the fight. Sort of…

Vrs

An evil wizard named kufufurfurerfuer (Who I will call the wizard for short)

The location: The top floor of ‘Th Daily Bugle’ The top newspaper in Sharn

Highlights- (in chronological order)

After Vespirous steals the wizard’s hat that turns out to be illusionary. Nickel hands Jinx the dreaded feet potion…

Jinx Summons a beholder using a spell that I forget the name off Gives the beholder, all four of his dockers and the feet potion and instructs it to shove the potion down the wizard’s throat.

The jar smashes on the wizards face. He gets about half of the contents in his mouth. Enough to make him suffer the effects later on.

but we’re not there yet no no…

then the wizard strikes the building with lightning

Vespirous who happened to be standing on the bougie glass balcony

Falls to what should be his doom. But NO NO NO..

he says to the DM. with a knowing smirk on his face.

“Pegasi Pegasi won’t you be my megasi”

This phrase was was established earlier on in the campaign to be a little rhyme that calls Pegasus to your location to pick you up like a taxi. So he is scooped up by the pegasus and saved from certain doom just to be shot down by the wizard immediately..

he tries to call another but it doesn’t work (The DM won’t allow it) so he makes a platform under him with his magic paintbrush and spend the rest of the battle, trying to get back up to the battle.

Anyway we go about the battle. Everything is on fire because of the lightning Nickel is on fire. J Jonah Jamison is on fire. The only people that are not on fire are the wizard. And Jinx who sits safely atop the knife, wielding beholder he summoned.

Combat continues. Jinx tries to heal nickel who’s almost at zero HP with wither and bloom, but fails Camdyn uses vicious mockery, to call the wizards mom a hoe. The beholder throws knives at the wizard. Nothing too unusual.

until the wizard can no longer move at full speed because his feet and legs have grown so exponentially.

And Jinx decides to cast Nathiars mischief This.. Summons, a bunch of molasses Which snuffs out the flames.

The wizard falls over. Tripping over his newly formed horrific feet. And Camdyn, sick of this guys bullshit. Runs up to him to curb stomp his head.

I shit you not that is exactly how it was described when they went to attack.

“I am going to curb stop the wizard” and you know what happened? HE FUCKING DIED!

THEY CURB STOMPED THE FINAL BOSS TO DEATH IN THE GOOP

Only later did we realize the similarities between this and the ending of the Owl House, Which we all cackled about for a minute straight.

After the battle. The soul sucking wizard dropped his hat which we destroyed because it was sus and a bunch of stars that turned out to be souls fell out. Jinx wanted to eat one but everyone convinced him not to. (unfortunately) However Jinx and Nickel now both have a jar with some of the stars.

(That’s why we where after the wizard in the first place. He was sucking peoples souls. As one dose)

However Jinx did get to eat something. After destroying the wizards hat, a little note, that said, “I am not dead, I have what you want” materialized we all agreed that it was bs so Jinx promptly ate it. It simply dissolved into sugar. Although the DM did have him make a con save.

We also had to wrestle an identical note away from an NPC. Which Jinx also ate. He was fine. We had to run so the authority’s wouldn’t catch us. On the way out of the building we found what we think is probably J Johan Jamisons Skull. Which Jinx put In his bag for safe keeping.

[crmsnmth]

September Sky Chapter Two, Part 6

"We still got to chop mushrooms. We've got enough to get started but if it gets busy, we'll be out very fast. Same goes for the pepper mix. And there's really not a whole lot portioning done."

"Jesus Christ. What did Mitch do this morning?" Mitch was another cook. And not the best one. So I gave him the morning shift. All he had to deal with was a lunch rush, and I made sure Dana, another cook, was available if he needed help.

"Nah, he got all the other veg prepped. And he did most of the sauces." No matter what, Justin would stick up for Mitch. But they'd been friends a long time. It was Justin who got Mitch job here. And other than being kind of dumb, Mitch worked when I needed him too. Never missed a shift, He was stoned most of the time he was here, but so was half the kitchen. My rule was you fuck up once cause your stoned, you lose that. I will do write ups. And Tom, the owner, was kind of strict when it came to that sort of thing.

"For sure?" I asked, grabbing a tub of mushrooms. They'd been washed and just needed to be sliced. I didn't mind it. I liked working knife skills more than almost anything else in the kitchen. I've had a fascination with blades and knifes since I was about ten years old and my grandfather gave me an old and dull pocket knife.

"Yeah, I checked. Oh, and the French Onion is ready, just needs it's final torching before it goes out. I think we've got a good night ahead of us." * * **

"Dude, you fucking jinxed us." I said. Justin and I were outside, sitting on milk crates behind the building. Both of us were burnt, and covered in various sauces. I had a new cut across the top of my hand. Knife slipped off an onion and I wasn't paying attention. My own fault.

The night had been viscous. Not overly busy, but not at one moment were we not cooking. It was just after 10:30 and we had just finished the last table. Service was over. And even though the kitchen was a mess, Justin and I were worse, and there was more than enough to do before either of us could leave. Both of us were beaten down and exhausted. But we were in the home stretch. Justin pulled a joint of the pack of cigarettes he had and lit it. We would pass it back and forth before going back into the building to clean.

"How did I jinx us?" He asked, inhaling and passing me the small pencil joint.

"You had to say we had a good night ahead of us." I said.

"I didn't say it would be good for us."

"Fuck you," I laughed. We sat in silence, smoking our cigarettes and passing the joint back and forth. Resting. We finished the joint off into a roach. Our cigarettes were quickly after and tossed those into a coffee can we kept filled with water and hundreds of dead cigarettes.

An hour passed and we were just finished up. Justin was mopping the last little spot of the kitchen. I was finishing up the numbers in the office. I flipped off the switch to the lights, checked to make sure all our equipment was off.

Justin and I stepped out of the kitchen, and both took a stool at the bar, The place offered a shift drink. Some nights that turned to four or five shift drinks. There were a few Saturdays where Amber, Justin and I would stay until almost bar close. And some nights, I wouldn't even have one. Tonight was not one of those nights.

"High Life," I said to Amber. She used to try and guess what I was getting, but it changed all the time. Amber was a great bartender. And her drinks were always perfect when I'd get one. She grabbed my bottle and brought it over to me.

"Have you tapped into that new IPA?" Justin asked. I could never understand how anyone could drink IPAs. There just crazy bitter to me, and I always got a headache from them.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Never Have I Ever - Harry Styles (part 8)

a/n: oh my! we have finally reached the end of this story and I never thought it would turn out to be this long but im happy it did! thank you for reading and loving it, and now, enjoy the last part!

pairing: Harry x actress!reader

word count: 4k

warning: just pure fluff

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

“Girl, even if you don’t win, you’ll surely take the title of the hottest woman on the red carpet tonight.”

Florence’s words make you chuckle, but you try not to move your lips too much as the makeup artist finishes up the last touches on them, using a nude shade.

“Stop, my head is big enough already,” you tell her, giving her a look through the mirror. She is standing a few feet behind you, already wearing her beautiful, golden Versace gown that hugs her perfectly. Her hair is up in a neat bun so her back can be on full display and the diamonds in her ears can also shine brightly. She looks amazing while she is the opposite of what you’ll look like tonight.

Rhonda, the makeup artist has an amazing notion about your look when you showed her the gown you’d be wearing tonight and since the dress is not the sparkly kind, like Florence’s, she went a little heavier with the glitter on your eyes, using mostly whitish-silver colors, creating rosy cheeks and topping it with nude, glossy lips. Your hair is in loose curls with a bunch of extension, creating the illusion that you might as well be Rapunzel herself tonight. But you are the most excited about the gown that’s already waiting for you to be finally put on.

“What time is it?” you ask Florence as you don’t have your phone on you, but she has hers in her hands already.

“We still have half an hour before we have to leave. Dude, I can’t believe you are an Oscar nominee and might turn into a winner tonight!” she sighs, eyes shining bright with excitement. She hasn’t come off of this high for days, so over the Moon that you get to walk the red carpet tonight as a nominee.

“Don’t jinx it, Flo,” you warn her.

There’s a knock on the door of the hotel suit you’ve occupied for the glamming and Florence is quick to rush to it answering, but you both know who it is. As she throws the door open Harry comes to your sight, looking  as handsome as ever, wearing his custom made Gucci suit with a pink dress shirt underneath that matches your gown perfectly.

“Florence, you look wonderful!” his british accent fills the room, making you smile. Rhonda sets your makeup with some spray and you’re finally done. Standing up you move your legs around a bit as they went a little numb from all the sitting.

“Thank you! Pink suits you well, Harry,” your friend compliments your man and you watch them smiling.

When Harry’s eyes set on you, the light up, his smile widening from ear to ear. He looks spotless, freshly shaved, his hair recently cut and combed into place for a change. Not that you don’t like it when it’s all tousled and messy, especially when it’s because of your fingers.

“Angel, wow!” he breathes out as he walks up to you, taking your hands in his. You know he wants to kiss you, but doesn’t want to risk messing your lips up, so he is left with admiring you with only his eyes.

“Just wait until you see her in the dress!” Florence chimes in making you chuckle. You kept your dress a secret, wanting to surprise him with the first look. You gave out only the most necessary details for Lambert so the two of you could match.

“You’d be great like this too,” he teases, taking a look at your fluffy robe.

“I’m not going to the Oscars in a robe,” you tell him with a narrow-eyed look.

“I know, I’m just saying that you’d still be stunning,” he mumbles with a boyish smirk.

“Y/N? Time to choose a necklace!” Your stylist, Rupert appears from the room where your gown is hanging. He has a few jewelry boxes in his hands and he sets them all to the coffee table, opening up you are met with four breathtakingly beautiful diamond necklaces, each of them different yet so magical looking, you can’t decide which one you like the most.

“Harry, which one do you like the most?” you ask, kneeling down next to the table, mesmerized by the jewelries in front of you. Harry leans down and inspects them one by one before poking on the last one in the row. It has three rows of diamonds, not too big, the stones in the last row are shaped like water droplets, it’s such an elegant looking piece, it surely caught your eyes as well and you think it would be perfect with the dress.

“This one,” he tells you and you nod, shutting the other boxes, satisfied with the choice.

“Alright, time to get you into the gown, girl,” Rupert winks, gesturing at you to follow him into the room.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Harry, risking a quick peck on his lips before you disappear in your temporary dressing room.

You fell in love with the gown on the first fitting when Rupert pulled it out, still in the finishing phase. It still has pins in it, but it already took your breath away. It has a massive A-line skirt and a tight upper part that hugs your body perfectly, a row of buttons running down the middle of it. The sleeves are puffy, but then end in a tight run from a little above your wrists, the same set of buttons appearing like on your chest. It’s giving out some Victorian style vibes in a more sophisticated and simpler way, but it’s by far your favorite dress you’ve ever worn to any event.

It surely needs the extra pair of hands from Rupert to put it on, but once you are secured in it, you feel like a princess straight out of a fairytale and surely, your prince is standing on the other side of the double doors.

“Alright! Everyone get ready for the big reveal!” Rupert announces, sneaking out the room so he can open the door for you. He waits a few moments as you hear everyone shuffle around outside, probably lining up to see you walk out in your finished state. “Okay, three! Two! One! Welcome our Oscar nominee!” he cheers, a round of applause is heard before you even appear, but it’s quickly replaced with gasps when Rupert pulls the doors open and they get the first glimpse of you in your gown.

“Holy fuck!” Florence gasps, mouth hanging open as she keeps raking your form up and down. Your eyes find Harry’s gaze and you see him in a state you haven’t often found him in the past almost two years you’ve been dating. He is completely speechless, eyes glued to you in awe as if he just saw an angel in real life.

“Y/N, I—wow,” he breathes out, still at a loss of words.

“You like it?” you ask with a shy smile.

“I fucking love it, baby. You look… You really are an angel,” he tells you, making you chuckle at his words.

“Would you please help me put on the necklace?” you ask him and he nods eagerly, carefully taking the jewelry out of its box and walking behind you, he brings it around your neck, his fingers delicately working on the clasp. Once it’s all set, you step to the floor to ceiling mirror, taking in the final look.

“There won’t be a straight woman left on Earth once you step on the red carpet,” Florence bluntly comments, making everyone in the room laugh.

“Let’s take some photos, I need to immortalize this masterpiece,” Rupert gestures around, already grabbing his camera.

The next ten minutes you take hundreds of photos, alone, with Florence and then with Harry. He still seems a little stunned by your look, feeling shy when he circles his arm around your waist, but it’s cute that you can still have such an effect on him after being together for almost two years.

Florence snaps some with your phone as well, your favorite is when he held your waist and leant you back, making you arch backwards as your noses touched since he couldn’t kiss you. You already know it’ll end up as your lockscreen, replacing the selfie the two of you took on your latest trip to Hawaii.

When it’s time to leave you grab your little purse with your phone and other necessities and the three of you pile up in a minivan, since your dress needs all the space so it doesn’t get wrinkled before you step out to the red carpet.

As you sit in the car and watch the buildings pass by, your nerves start to rise in you. When the nominations came out a month ago it seemed so far, you couldn’t imagine yourself actually attending the Academy Awards, but now here you are, on your way to find out if you’ve been good enough to be the best.

Your role in Sinful Heaven has brought a lot to your life aside from the nomination. The three months of filming was one of the hardest times in your life you’ve ever worked through and at some points, you didn’t even think you’d get through it. Working so closely with Levi took a toll on you while you were trying to prove in such a heavy and serious role. It was a mess especially at the beginning when you and Harry were still in this weird phase, but that eventually turned right when he literally punched Levi in the face and ten minutes later asked you to be his girlfriend. It’s a badass way to start a relationship and you wouldn’t trade it for anything, especially because it put Levi into place or at least scared him enough to get off your back for the rest of the filming.

When Harry left following that visit, you couldn’t see each other until filming wrapped and you flew straight to him and travelled with him for the next two weeks, hopping from one city to the other, watching him perform every other night and spending all your time with him.

When the movie premiered eight months later, you didn’t appear with Harry by your side, Maya was your date for the evening, but by that time everyone knew you and Harry are an official couple. Neither of you felt like hiding it or caring about what others would think and you were able to focus on each other and rely on the strong foundation you’ve built for your relationship.

He was there with you when the nominations came out and probably screamed louder when your name appeared in the list. With tearing eyes and choked out sobs you jumped into his arms as he mumbled into your ear.

“I’m so proud of you, Angel. So, so proud!”

And now you are on your way to the show, only hours away from finding out if your dreams will come true tonight. Harry squeezes your hand and you turn to face him, his soft eyes meeting yours.

“Nervous?” he asks with a small smile.

“Very,” you admit with an airy chuckle.

“Whatever happens tonight, I’m very proud of you. Don’t forget that.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, giving his hand a squeeze back.

Since it’s the first time you and Harry appear on the red carpet as a couple, once you set your feet out of the car, everyone goes nuts. He helps you out and even fixes your dress so it falls just perfectly around your frame before he offers his arm. You link your through it, taking a deep breath as the two of you start walking down the carpet, posing for the photographers.

You feel powerful and strong, like it’s the peak of your career, but you also feel that it wouldn’t be the same without Harry by your side even though he is making sure to let you shine tonight. At one point he even steps back for a moment so photographers can snap you alone and you think it’s such a caring move from him.

You feel a little dizzy from all the flashlights by the time you walk into the theater, Harry holding your hand tightly as he leads you to your seats.

You’ve been to plenty award shows and it’s not even your first Academy Awards appearance either, but for obvious reasons, it’s the most important. Sitting in your plush chair, you can barely stop yourself from continuously fidgeting as one category follows the other and it’s still not yours.

Then following a jaw-dropping performance from Dua Lipa, Chris Evans walks out with a golden statue and an envelope in his hands and your heart skips a beat, but not because of the man himself, but because you know he is the presenter of the Best Actress category.

Your hold on Harry’s hand on your lap tightens and you glue your eyes to the big screens behind Chris as he smiles around.

“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to be here and to present the award for Best Actress. The theater tonight is filled with exceptional talents, but let’s see the nominees,” he speaks into the microphone and then he starts listing the names.

Emma Stone, Anne Hathaway, Margot Robbie and Rooney Mara are called and a camera fixates on each of them when Chris says their names, all smiling brightly and waving around before your name is called at the end. Taking a deep breath you plaster your most wonderful smile across your face, waving around like the other nominees did before the big screen splits, showing the five of you simultaneously.

“We’ve seen some spectacular performances from these ladies and now let’s see who proved herself to be the best this year.”

Chris flips the envelope open and pulls the little paper out that has the winner’s name written on it and for a moment you’re convinced you’ll pass out. You’ve never felt this anxious before and you’re gripping Harry’s hand so tightly you’re surprised he hasn’t pulled it back, but he is patiently putting up with your nerves, his eyes glued to the man on the stage as well.

“And the Academy Award for Best Actress goes to…” Chris starts with a charming smile, holding a short pause before he finally says the name. “Y/N Y/L/N for her role as Marie Davidson in Sinful Heaven!”

Your mouth hangs open, ears ringing as you process that your name was called. Everyone around you jumps up, including Harry, who is screaming just like when the nominations came out, while you are completely blank. It takes you a couple of moments to realize that you in fact just won your first Oscar and everyone is waiting for you to go and get your little statue.

“Baby! Baby you won!” Harry cheers as he helps you up from your seat and you throw yourself into his arms as reality sets in. “I fucking love you, Angel. Go and get your Oscar!” he laughs, pride all over his face as he urges you to walk up to the stage.

“Walk me up, please!” you stammer, not trusting yourself with walking in this fragile state. He offers his hand without a second thought, walking you to the stage where Chris is politely waiting for you to help you up on the stairs.

“Thank you,” you breathe out once you’re finally up on the stage, every set of eyes on you as Chris hands you the little statue.

“Congratulations,” he smiles as the two of you exchange two kisses on the cheeks before he steps aside and lets you give a speech.

You thought about writing a few words beforehand, but you figured if you end up being the winner you’d forget the whole thing, so there would be no use and that’s the case. Your mind is still blank as you look down at the award in your hands, the crowd still cheering on you, giving you a few extra moments to figure out what to say.

“I uhh—I don’t even know what to say, this feels like a dream,” you admit talking into the microphone, the clapping dying down so that everyone can hear your words. “I want to thank to everyone who worked on Sinful Heaven, because I wouldn’t be here without them. To my wonderful director and amazing costars, it’s been such a wonderful journey with you all. Thank you to my friends and family who were there with me from the very start, believing in me when I was losing faith in myself, thank you for never giving up on me. To my parents who I assume are now crying in front of the TV,” you add chuckling softly, imagining your mom and dad in tears as they listen to your words. “This is a wonderful sign to me that I am where I need to be and that I’m on the right path, so thank you for giving me even more motivation to keep me going on my way.”

Your eyes roam around all the guests until they fall on one proud man staring at you in his Gucci suit and pink dress shirt, his green eyes looking glossy as he listens to your words.

“And last but not least, thank you to one special person, because I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here tonight without him. I have one thing to tell you.” Forgetting about everyone in the theater you hold up the Oscar in your hand as you finish your speech: “Never have I ever loved someone like I love you.”

The crowd starts cheering again as you step away from the microphone and Chris is quick to jog up to you and help you down the stairs, Harry rushing back to take your hand once Chris lets go of it.

You catch him wipe a tear off his cheek as the two of you walk back to your seats hand in hand. Once you are settled, you take a deep breath and turn to Harry who is already looking at you, the same proud smile you saw from the stage still on his handsome face.

“I have never,” he tells you as his answer to the last line of your speech and you chuckle as your free hand finds the back of his neck, pulling him close. The lipstick on your lips long forgotten as you finally kiss him for the first time tonight.

“I have never either,” you whisper against his lips before kissing him again and again.

***

  Smiling around you wait for the audience to quiet down as you make yourself comfortable in the familiar armchair. It’s such a nostalgic feeling to sit here again.

“Y/N, it’s so nice to have you here again,” Ellen greets you once the clapping has stopped.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course. A lot has happened since the last time you were here, you won an Oscar just a few weeks ago, congratulations!”

The cheering starts again as a picture of you appears on the screen behind you, wearing your iconic pink gown, holding your Oscar in your hands.

“Thank you,” you shyly smile, still not entirely in peace with the fact that you are now an Oscar winning actress.

“Such a major thing, congrats.”

“Thank you, it is a huge thing, yes.”

“Do you already have a spot for the award? Does it have a designated place?”

“Well, for now it is in my study along with some more mementos, but I’m planning to have a little stand made in the living room,” you share your plans.

“Surely, I would want to show it off if I had an Oscar,” Ellen chuckles. “You have such a busy time behind you, have you been up to something new lately?”

“We finished filming the third season of The Umbrella Academy, so now I’m having a little break before I jump into anything new.”

“Sounds nice, you deserve all the relaxing. Anything planned while you’re on a break? A new book to read, or maybe a concert to go to?” she asks and you already know where this is heading.

“You know you can just ask if I’m planning to attend a Harry Styles concert,” you bluntly tell her, making the audience and Ellen laugh.

“Well, I was just asking around about your plans, but I’m happy you plan to visit Harry’s concert! It’s also good to know that the situation has changed since the last time you were here, you definitely have been to one of his concerts since then.”

“I have been, yes,” you admit smirking.

“And I assume the two of you are now very close, am I right?” she asks and suddenly a paparazzi photo of the two of you appears where you’re walking down the street hand in hand just a couple of weeks ago.

“You could say that,” you nod, biting into your bottom lip.

“Amazing, because he is going to join us now. Everyone, please welcome Harry Styles!” Ellen announces and turning around you spot Harry walking out from backstage, the audience screaming for him. He shyly waves around walking up to the center, greeting Ellen with a kiss on the cheek before he turns to you, pecking your lips shortly as he sits down next to you.

“Harry, so good to see you again,” Ellen smiles at him.

“Good t’ see you as well,” he nods.

“So, the last time you two were sitting here, you—it was the first time you ever met, right?”

“Right,” you nod with Harry.

“And now you are…” she gestures at the two of you, not finishing the sentence, but everyone knows what she meant by that.

“And now we are… not strangers anymore,” Harry says chuckling, making everyone in the studio laugh.

“Certainly,” Ellen nods. “Alright, I thought that we could play another game, just to bring back some nice memories,” she explains, reaching behind her armchair, grabbing the familiar board from her, flipping it in your hands with a nostalgic smile.

“Can we keep it PG rated though?” Harry asks, examining his board before looking up at Ellen.

“No,” she simply answers, reaching for her cards as the audience starts laughing. “Okay, you know how to play it, no need for explanation. Here is the first one: Never have I ever used my fame to get in somewhere.”

Ellen is quick to show the I HAVE side of her board and you slowly do the same while Harry thinks to himself.

“Oh come on, you surely have,” you elbow him playfully as he smirks in your way, holding up the same side as you and Ellen.

“We all have, it’s not a shame,” Ellen shrugs. “Next one. Never have I ever forgotten the name of someone right after they introduced themselves.”

Ellen holds up the I HAVE side and you do the same again while this time Harry flips it over to I HAVE NEVER confidently.

“Really?” Ellen asks him, surprised at his answer.

“I’m good with names,” he simply shrugs.

“That’s a good trait. Alright, let’s move on. Never have I ever punched someone in the face.”

It’s a sneaky and very shady statement. Just a few days after the incident with Levi, word got out that he was punched, a few blurry pictures floating around the internet of his bruise, then fans figured out it had to happen around the time Harry visited set and people were quick to put the picture together and assume that Harry was the one who hit Levi, but it was never confirmed.

Glancing at your boyfriend you are fighting your smile back, holding up the I HAVE NEVER side as he is looking back at you slyly, continuously flipping his board before it finally lands on I HAVE, the audience immediately rumbling at the partial confirmation and seemingly Ellen is also amazed by Harry’s honesty.

“Alright, interesting. Love that for you, Harry,” he comments making everyone laugh as you reach over and give Harry’s hand a squeeze. “Last one,” Ellen announces, reading the last statement from her cards. “Never have I ever fallen in love with someone I played never have I ever with.”

Ellen quickly shows her I HAVE NEVER side as you suck your lips into your mouth, glancing at Harry again. You share a look before you both slowly raise your boards, both reading the same sign on them: I HAVE.

[scoopsgf]

can i get a good night’s sleep? can i PLEASE get a good night’s sleep?!

or: five times peter parker doesn’t sleep + the one time he does

my contribution to the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange! this is for @snarky-drabbles - I hope you enjoy it! 

1. 

The first time is actually just the first in a while. Peter’s had problems sleeping ever since he was a little kid; it was just one issue of many that stacked up on top of each other, resulting in his personal belief that he must be the most difficult kid to look after on the planet.

Asthma meant hundreds of dollars spent on inhalers, covering what their shitty insurance didn’t. His poor eyesight was the same story and the bullies that used to break his glasses had never helped. But it wasn’t just physical crap, of course: he’s had anxiety for as long as he can remember.

There are cute side-effects like panic attacks and nausea, not to mention the constant sense of impending doom he’s been nursing since… well, birth, probably. When he was younger he’d worry about whether or not the taxi driver had enough gas in his car to get them where they needed to go, or maybe Ben would get shot at work (ironically enough, he’d never worried that Ben would get shot off-duty, and there is a teeny superstitious sliver of him that believes maybe if he had considered the possibility it never would have happened, like some kind of a reverse jinx or something).

One of the other cute things that comes along with it is insomnia.

So here he is, pacing in his kitchen at three in the morning because May isn’t home yet.

Her shift ended at two. She’s usually back within a half hour considering the hospital isn’t far, hence his agitation.

He’s tried calling and texting to no avail, and he keeps telling himself that everything is fine, that she probably just got held up; meanwhile his subconscious provides a great slideshow of mental images that speak to the opposite—her getting kidnapped because somehow someone links her to Spider-Man, her getting hit with a car, mugged, shot, slipping on black ice—and that’s actually not far-fetched considering it’s January, there’s a lot of it, and so he pulls out his phone and types, You didn’t slip on black ice and die did you? to May.

No little dots appear to signify that she’s typing. The message doesn’t even change from ‘delivered’ to ‘read’.

She has her read receipts on. She’s promised him. There’s no reason she’d change that, right? But maybe she accidentally switched them off when she was scrolling through her settings.

He calls her.

“Hi, this is May Parker, I’m unavailable at the moment but if you leave me a message I’ll get back to you as soon as—”

Peter hangs up with a dissatisfied grunt.

It’s only then that he realises, to his great dismay, that he’s paced all the way onto the ceiling.

In his shock he loses concentration and falls. “Ow, fuck.” He pulls his aching knee to his chest. It’ll no doubt be bruised soon. “God has forsaken me.”

He picks up his now cracked phone and texts Ned:

I just fell off the ceiling at 3 AM in the morning

Don’t ask me what I was doing on it

Every bone in my body is broken :(

No reply comes which is pretty typical; Ned probably passed out in front of his PC like, hours ago. Peter can picture it: the light of his computer screen casting a blue glow over everything in the room, his head probably tucked into his arms to muffle his snores (and there’s also probably a bowl of stale popcorn spilled across his floor at this point), his creepy mother lurking in the doorway—or worse, trying to find out how to snoop through his laptop while he’s out of it.

Peter could totally go swing down there and help the guy out. It would be something to do anyway.

But no. The door is too far. His suit… too much work. It’s definitely better to just stay here curled up under the table like a little turtle.

But wait—a blanket.

Is it worth the effort? Probably. Peter scans his immediate surroundings and, oh boy, Lady Fate is actually on his side tonight because there’s a gigantic purple fluffy one hanging off the couch and it only takes a little bit of physical exertion to yank it down and wrap it around his body.

He burrows deeper into it and scrolls through Instagram. MJ posted a picture of a banana today. Literally like, just a banana. No caption, no explanation on her story, nothing.

Peter double taps it and comments: i hope u asked before u took his jacket

No like. No reply. That makes sense. It is three in the fucking morning, after all.

No. Three thirty. It’s been an hour and a half.

What had May said once? That it was okay to call someone if she was two hours late?

Peter tries texting and calling one more time and then just sits there, staring at his home screen and watching the minutes pass. At exactly four AM after much deliberation and stomach churning, he calls someone else.

Three rings later: “I’m in Vienna right now so this better be good.”

Peter feels even more nauseous than before. “Oh,” he says. “I guess—never mind, then. Sorry.”

“Wait, wait, that was just for show and I’m greatly intrigued as to why you’re calling me so… early? Late? Anyway I’m out of the conference room now so lay it on me.”

Against his will, Peter’s lip quirks up. “Um, it’s kind of stupid—”

“Nothing is ever stupid,” Tony says. “Especially when it’s coming from the brain of a kid with an intelligence quotient of 260.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and then it all just comes tumbling out, “It’s really late and May was supposed to be off at two and home by two-thirty, but she’s not and I don’t know what to do. I tried calling and texting but she’s not replying and I know that I’m probably just building it up in my head but I can’t help freaking out because like, what if she got stabbed or slipped on black ice or—”

“Hey Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“Breathe.”

Tony’s voice has softened immeasurably. Something uncoils in Peter’s stomach. He flops onto his side and closes his eyes. “I’m breathing.”

“That’s good, kiddo. Now just hang on a sec, I’m gonna call the hospital.”

“What? Why?”

“Well she works there, right?”

“...Yeah.”

“And you haven’t tried calling them yet, correct?”

“...Correct.”

“Ergo,” Tony says.

“But I—”

“Yeah?”

Peter bites his lip and then he just blurts it: “I don’t want you to hang up.”

He feels like such a child but the thought of losing connection with Tony is literally making his heart palpitate and his palms sweat. He needs someone. He needs an adult.

“Well lucky for us both I have two phones.”

Peter cracks an eye. “You what?”

“I’m Tony Stark, don’t question it. Hang on, let me just—hello, hi, um, I need this room. No, it can’t wait. Yes the whole room. Yes locked. I don’t know, five minutes? Ten? An hour? No, I’m not joking. Thank you. Thanks. Yeah. Okay. Bye now.” Something slams shut—the door to the office Tony just stole, probably. “Okay, just a sec, I have the number for the reception desk she works at in my phone.”

Peter, for some reason, feels immeasurably comforted by that. He sits in silence gnawing on his lip while Tony has a somewhat muffled conversation he can’t hear the other side of. Then, “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Okay, well, they said she’s covering for someone and can’t get to the phone because a baby had to have emergency surgery so she’s literally in the OR as we speak. Pretty badass and not bad as far as excuses go. Now that you know she’s fine and not dead by ice, how about you get some shut-eye, okay kid?”

Peter swallows. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, Tony.”

“No Mr. Stark this time, huh?”

“It’s too late for formalities.”

“I see,” Tony replies. “Sleep, okay?”

“Okay.”

The line goes dead. Peter, slightly relieved but not fully consoled, rolls over to face the door. He doesn’t sleep at all that night and is still there when May comes home at six in the morning with bagels and apologies.

—

2. 

The anniversary of Ben’s death is always super weird.

This time it takes him a few minutes to remember what day it is: he’s in the middle of brushing his teeth and then it hits him like a train: oh, it’s been three years.

Then comes May. She usually tries to cook something for breakfast but like always it burns. He leaves the bathroom to the sound of the smoke alarm and fans a cookie sheet at the screeching little device while she swears up and down in Italian.

“It’s okay, May, really—”

“No, it’s not!” She snaps, tossing a batch of blackened cinnamon rolls into the trash. “I just want this day to be easy for you!”

Peter goes over to her and, after kicking the oven door shut with his foot, pulls her into his arms. May starts to cry even though she tries not to; sniffles turn into barely stifled sobs. He knows that it’s harder for her than it is for him. Ben was her husband and they’d been married for thirteen years when he died. Sometimes he still catches her looking to see if he’s laughing too when they watch TV, only to find an empty recliner.

“It’s okay for it to be a bad day,” he whispers. “You know that, right? I mean, I love you to pieces, May, but I don’t wanna see you bending over backwards for me.”

“But that’s my job, doofus.”

Peter pulls back. He’s an inch taller than her now. “No it’s not. We take care of each other, okay?”

Then comes school. Ned usually hovers nervously like an agitated gnat, too afraid to say anything, not sure if he should act normal or be sad in solidarity, which means it’s kind of Peter’s job to set the tone. As he’s putting his combination in for his locker he asks, “So did you beat that level of Obra Dinn last night?”

Ned, shoulders slumping with relief, starts to ramble on about how hard it was to do and how it took him like, thirty whole tries.

They go to class. Peter zones out. He doesn’t bother making more web fluid or ditching and he gets so inside his own head that Coach Wilson compliments him again during gym class. Peter deliberately slows down after that, even if it’s kind of irritating; being physically active actually helps work off his anger.

Because that’s what he is more than anything else: angry. At the mugger, yeah, but at himself more than anything else. It was his fault that they were out that night, anyway. It’s a wonder that May doesn’t hate his fucking guts.

When school is up Peter comes home to an empty house. He thinks about going on patrol but doesn’t really feel up to it, and then he feels bad for not wanting to do it because like, what if someone is dying?

So he puts on the suit and swings from rooftop to rooftop, but there’s no action today. Peter eventually settles on a fire escape with a burrito. A stray cat hops up after a while and, despite his matted fur and crazy eyes, Peter decides he has a kind of quiet dignity about him and names him Charles.

“Do you like beef?” He asks, holding some out for Charles to sniff. The cat yowls and, without any warning other than that, nearly chomps Peter’s fingers off to get the meat.

“Ow, jeez!” Peter shakes his wrist. “I was literally giving it to you for free, but go off I guess.”

Charles blinks his big brown marble eyes and then literally jumps off the fucking ledge. Peter leans over and watches him scamper across the street, somehow not getting hit by any traffic. Sometimes he thinks his spidey sense is more like feline sense in that way: he could probably manage the same thing with his eyes closed.

After a while the sun sets and all of the streetlights turn on. Peter does another patrol around the immediate vicinity but again, nothing. He stays out anyway though because he’d rather do his Chemistry homework behind a dumpster than sit alone in the apartment with nothing but the quiet for company. At least out and about there are sewer rats and mangy dogs and shady characters who actually just turn out to be skateboarders.

Peter is almost done with his assignment when the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He looks up and finds Iron Man himself coming in for a landing. The suit drops with a barely audible clunk; it’s Mark 54, the sleekest and most lightweight model yet.

“Oh thank God,” says Tony’s voice, “you’re not dead.”

Peter frowns even though Tony can’t see it. “No,” he agrees slowly. “Why would I be dead? What are you doing here?”

“Well, your aunt called me in a panic at around four when she got home and you weren’t there, and then I checked the scanners and saw that you’d been here, completely stationary, for like five whole hours—needless to say I had a little bit of a heart attack and here I am, relieved and also mildly infuriated. Care to explain, young padawan?”

Peter opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again and, “It’s four AM?”

“Four fifteen,” Tony corrects.

“I didn’t even—I didn’t know! Shit, May’s totally gonna kill me, I might as well be dead—”

“Woah woah woah,” the faceplate lifts, “calm down, okay? No one is mad. Just, uh, concerned, I promise.”

Peter is still frantically packing up his school supplies and not really listening. He only stops when Tony gently touches him by lightly gripping his elbow. “Kid?”

Peter stares down at the older man’s hand. Behind the mask his eyes start to burn. “Ben died.”

“Pardon?”

“Ben died,” he repeats louder. “In this alley. Two years ago.”

All at once Tony’s face falls. He moves to sit by Peter on the grimy floor of the alley while the suit hovers nearby, a hollow shell, just the way Peter feels now.

“Kid,” Tony says, “take off the mask.”

“What? No, I’m in public—”

“No one’s around,” Tony says. “Just take it off, okay?”

Peter does, reluctantly peeling it back to reveal his tear-stained cheeks. Tony stares for a second and then, almost hesitantly, he wraps his arms around Peter. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I—” he chokes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of having to watch May be strong for me when I can’t be strong back, and I’m tired of Ben not being around. I miss him and it—it’s not fair.”

“Of course it’s not. It’s never fair. That’s why it hurts, kiddo. You’ve got all this love and no place to put it.”

Peter bites his lip to stop it from quivering and looks away, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I just feel pathetic.”

“Don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I felt the same way after my mom died and it… In some ways I don’t think the feeling ever actually went away, but uh, take it from someone who’s had a lot more time to process: no one is expecting anything from you, okay? And I can guarantee there’s not a single human that thinks two years is long enough to be perfectly fine again. You’re allowed to still be upset about this.”

And Peter is. He’s really, really fucking upset about it and so tired of holding it in. Tony pulls him against his chest when Peter starts to cry and it sort of seems like he’ll never be able to stop. There’s just so much, so much guilt and pain and all kinds of other bullshit that he refuses to lay on May.

So he lays it on Tony. And it’s surprisingly not horrible or awkward or even the end of the world.

“You good?” the older man asks, when Peter finally sobers up enough to wipe his cheeks dry and take a few steadying breaths.

“Yeah,” he says, voice ragged and awful-sounding. “Um, sorry. For freaking you and May out and ruining your shirt, I mean.”

“You know there’s this really snazzy invention called a washing machine—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Tony laughs and it makes Peter laugh too, and the tension between them just sort of dissipates. “Speaking of clothes,” Tony claps his hands together, “you got any to wear in that backpack?”

“Uh, jeans and a hoodie?”

“Fantastic, incredible. Throw them on, I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“But what if someone sees?!”

“Let ’em. I’ll have Pep release a statement claiming you as my personal assistant or head intern or something.”

“That’s totally unrealistic.”

“Do I care? No. Just—okay? Up and at ’em, make haste, come on. What do you feel like, pancakes or waffles?”

They bicker about which is better the entire way to the little diner Tony choses, and Peter comes home full an hour later. May is fast asleep at the kitchen table. He kisses her forehead and starts on breakfast for her.

—

3. 

He’s thirty minutes into helping MJ study for her AP French test when she finally gets a question wrong. “‘Il n'est pas clair que’?” Peter queries, holding up the flash card.

“‘It’s not certain that’?”

He makes a pitying noise. “Close. ‘It’s not clear that’.”

“What’s not clear, exactly? That if I see one more word in French I’m gonna blow my brains out?”

Peter snorts. “No, actually it says more clarification is required on how much you like your boyfriend. Suggestions to improve that include: a hug, a kiss, both—”

“Neither?”

He pouts. “Mean.”

MJ rolls her eyes, but she kisses him first. She tastes like the Twizzlers they’ve been eating and her hands are in his hair and she laughs when he presses his lips to her cheeks and nose and forehead.

They somehow end up in an incredibly compromising position. “You know,” MJ muses, “I don’t think I’ve been studying the right kind of French.”

Peter, hovering over her (oops), nods in agreement. “This kind is definitely way better.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and he’s so consumed with this: her and him and the smell of her jasmine shampoo—that he almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

Peter rips away abruptly. “What was that?”

She groans. “God, you’re such a dog sometimes.”

He ignores her, sitting alert with his eyes narrowed at the window and, sure enough, there it is again: a faint, blood-curdling scream. “Someone’s being attacked or something. Maybe four blocks away tops.”

MJ squints. “Don’t tell me you can echolocate.”

“I—” Peter’s mouth snaps shut and then opens again. “I actually don’t know. Anyway, I gotta go.”

He presses a quick kiss to her cheek, throws on his jacket, and quickly ducks out her fire escape (which happens to be the same way that he came in). He slips the mask on and tosses his hood up; it’s raining in heavy, icy sheets and Peter is drenched within seconds of swinging. He remembers the first time he’d gone out during a storm; the webbing he’d made hadn’t held up because the chemical formula hadn’t accounted for the massive amounts of water-based reaction, so the biocables had evaporated as they left his shooters. Thankfully he hadn’t jumped first that day, otherwise he would be a Peter Pancake.

Another scream sounds. Peter follows it and winds up latched onto the side of a two-story brick building. There’s an incredibly dark alley below, but a quick flash of lightning tells him everything he needs to know: one man is trying to wrestle a woman down, while another is rifling through her purse. He’s also holding a gun.

“Oh, cute,” he mutters sarcastically.

Peter tries to time it right: he takes aim and shoots a web right at the weapon with the next bout of lightning, but to his immense misfortune, the armed mugger had already seen him and was aiming right back. The bullet hits Peter in the side.

“Ow,” he says, “that was uncalled for.”

He drops. His side is throbbing and hot but he ignores it in favour of disarming the guy who shot him. It’s a brief struggle but Peter ends up whacking the gun out of his hand and webbing it to the wall opposite. Then he knocks the guy out with a solid upper cross to the temple.

Peter rounds. The assailant has already fled, leaving the woman shivering but relatively unharmed.

“You okay, ma’am?” he asks.

“Me? That guy shot you!”

Peter looks down at his side which is now stained with blood. “Oh, yeah.”

He’d actually forgotten for half a second. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he’s starting to really feel it: a burning sensation in his abdomen, an aching that pulses from his stomach to his chest. Ah. Wonderful.

A little dazed, he shakes his head. ��Don’t worry about me. Super healing. Are you good? You need me to call you a cab?”

“What? No, um—the police station is like, down the block, I can go get them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can totally do that—”

“I can handle myself,” she says sharply, bending down to pick up her purse and the discarded items within. “It’s just… there were two of them and there was a gun and—”

“I get it,” Peter says, his hand pressing harder into his side as the world grows blurrier around the edges. “You really don’t want me to at least walk you down?”

“I’ll take a taxi,” she says. “You just, um, get yourself fixed up, okay? And thanks.”

“Yeah, sure, anytime! But, y’know, preferably never again,” Peter says, and proceeds to swing away.

—

Tony doesn’t expect to get woken up at two AM after only just falling asleep five minutes before, but such is life; FRIDAY’s voice bleeds through the speakers above to inform him that Spider-Man is currently rifling through the Med-Bay and bleeding from a wound on his side.

Pepper looks at him. “You heard that too, right? That was real?”

“It was real.”

They both scramble out of bed. Tony takes the lead, throwing on his jacket as he runs toward the elevator. It’s times like these when every second stretches out into an eternity; it takes maybe five of them to get from their floor to the Med-Bay, but it feels like forever.

The doors open and there’s Peter, perched on a gurney with his shirt gone and a whole lot of blood staining his side. He’s bent awkwardly, clearly trying to feel his way around whatever wound he’s got.

“Um,” Tony says, approaching, “What.”

Peter looks up and—yeah, he’s lost a lot more blood than Tony had originally thought. His face is fucking drained. “Hey,” he says, offering a jaunty wave before returning his attention to his side. “I got shot.”

“Oh!” Tony nods. “Oh, okay. What the fuck, kiddo?”

“I know, right?” Peter glances up. “Hey, Pepper.”

“Peter,” she returns. “Do you mind if I wash my hands and take a look at that?”

“If you want. It’s kinda gross, though.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”

Through this exchange Tony was already washing up, and now he dons a pair of gloves and sits on the rolling stool. “Looks like it’s through and through,” he tells Pep over his shoulder. “Could you grab a couple suture kits and, uh, the stuff?”

Pepper makes a face. “The stuff?”

“You know,” Tony says, “The Good Stuff.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, that stuff.”

Tony feels around the area. “Do you know what kind of gun was used?”

“Looked like your standard nine mil,” Peter replies. His voice is growing a little slurred.

That’s good though, about the gun. Means there’s probably not any bullet fragments to worry about. Tony grabs a load of gauze and presses it against the wound. He checks Peter’s pulse while he’s at it and finds that it’s slowed considerably. “We’re gonna have to get you some blood, too. A neg, right?”

“Yuppers.”

Tony excuses that because after all, the kid is bleeding out on a table. Said kid actually starts to swing his legs back and forth and, yeah, that’s not gonna fly. “Do me a favour and lay back? I’m gonna put this towel right under you for now.”

Peter doesn’t have any arguments, or if he does, he doesn’t vocalise them. Pepper comes back in with the kits and drugs and, because she’s just smarter than him like that, bags of blood.

Tony grabs the vials first and loads up a syringe. Peter is pretty numb to all of it until the needle goes in. Then he frowns. “Why are you injecting me with alien blood?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s not alien blood, it’s a pain killer. A serious one at that, so you’re probably gonna feel a little out of it for a while, okay?”

Peter frowns. “Is it for Steve?”

Tony tenses, but it’s only for a second. “Yes,” he says, somewhat tightly.

“Ugh. What a turd, Mr. Stark. You’re giving me turd vitamins!” Tony scoffs while Pepper laughs. Peter notices. “See? She thinks I’m funny.”

“You’re not helping me here,” Tony says to her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Here, have some thread.”

Tony sighs. “Just stay still for me, okay?”

Peter does. Pepper passes him various supplies and they work together to sew up both ends of the gunshot wound. By the time they’re done, Peter hasn’t moved once, but his eyes are open and he’s frowning.

“How do you feel?”

“Wired,” he says.

“Seriously? Bruce never said anything about the side-effects, but I figured they’d be like normal pain-killers; make you drowsy and all that.”

“No,” Peter sits up quickly and doesn’t even flinch. “I feel like I just got steroids or something. Are you—are you actually telling me that Captain America’s drugs are infused with a stimulant? What, so he can keep fighting even when he’s in the middle of dying?”

Tony blinks. “Well that was smart of dear Banner.”

“Yeah, or insane.” Peter flexes his hands. “I feel like I need to go for a run, or like, break something.”

“Let’s avoid that,” Tony says, pushing him back down. “You need to heal, not mess yourself up even more, understood?”

Peter stares. “Is it normal to see sounds?”

Pepper bursts out laughing again. “I’m sorry,” she says when Tony glares. “Really, I am, I promise. Peter, honey, how about we get you to a bedroom where you can rest up? We’ll call your aunt and explain everything.”

—

Everything is going fine until May asks, “How did you get to the Tower so quick, then?”

Peter blinks. “Hmm? Pardon?”

“If you were at Ned’s,” May says, “how’d you manage to swing all the way across town?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it. “I, uh… well, funny story, um… I wasn’t actually at Ned’s?”

There’s a pause over the phone. Pepper, who’s holding it, raises an eyebrow. May says: “You told me you were going to Ned’s, Peter.”

His face feels hot. He hopes it isn’t red. Both Pepper and Tony—from the doorway with his hands stuffed in his sweatpant pockets—are staring. It’s almost as bad as if May were really here.

“Well I was going to Ned’s, but then I changed my mind and went somewhere else and oh—look at the time! I think we’re going through a tunnel—”

“Don’t even try to pull that crap! That’s it, I’m coming over there—”

“May,” Peter says, serious now, “you’re in the middle of a shift, there’s people dying. Just—I’m perfectly fine, I took my Captain America drugs and everything is gonna be okay.”

“But you lied to me.”

“No, I changed my mind.”

“And went where?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Peter.”

“May.”

She groans from the other end of the line and demands to speak to Pepper one on one. Tony’s fiancé grins and switches off speaker, before slipping out with a bright laugh to finish off the conversation. Tony stares expectantly. “So where were you?”

“Oh my god, not you too. You know, on second thought, I actually am completely exhausted and—”

“Uh, nope,” Tony flops down onto the bed. “Fess up.”

Peter sighs. He squirms down and covers his pillow with a head. “No.”

Tony joins him under it. “Tell me.”

Peter scowls. He rolls onto his side so they’re facing one another. “I was with my girlfriend.”

“Oooo—”

“Shush! It’s… it’s really not a big deal and I haven’t told May yet because MJ and I haven’t even really talked about it and it all happened super fast and—” he remembers to breathe, “I just… I always tell May everything, you know? But I kind of just felt like… this was something I had to figure out first on my own. Maybe it’s stupid, but I know she’s gonna be super hurt when she finds out it’s been a month and I haven’t said anything—”

“Kid,” Tony cuts in. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Peter promises, because he is. He’s also just incredibly hyper and stressed.

“It’s a normal instinct to want to figure things out and define them before you start announcing them to the world. I get that. But you’re still a kid, Pete, and even if you don’t want people prying into your love life, we still need to know where you are in case something goes wrong.”

Peter harrumphs as he turns away. “There’s a tracker on my phone and my suit. It would be easier to find me than anything else.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “You got a point there.”

“I just wanted time.”

“I know.”

“But I really like her, okay? Like she’s so smart and she’s got this really dark sense of humour and she’s actually kind of terrifying sometimes—”

“Oh, the scary ones are always fun.”

They stay up talking through the night and, when the sun comes up, Pepper joins them with a tray of freshly made blueberry waffles. May arrives around the same time and, looking too tired to be mad, simply drops onto the bed with them and steals what’s left of his food.

—

4. 

Peter is on patrol when he hears it:

a soft, quiet yelping coming from somewhere down below the rooftop he’s perched on.

At first he figures he’s imagining things, but then his ears perk again. He leans over the building’s edge to find the source of the noise.

In the dark it’s hard to make anything out, so he climbs slowly down the side of the wall, squinting. There’s another yelp and a low whine, almost pained. Peter zeroes in on the sound and creeps toward a set of dumpsters; they’re so full of trash they’re overflowing, and it’s underneath a broken down cardboard box that he finds it... 

A puppy.

Now, Peter is no liar. He’s wanted a dog since he was like, a fetus. The words ‘A dog’ have been on every birthday and Christmas list for as long as he can remember. It’s only recently, in the years since Ben’s death, that he’s pretty much given up—after all, May is so overworked and they can barely afford to feed themselves. How could they afford a pet?

But also…

This is the cutest dog he’s ever seen.

It’s tiny and fluffy and brown and has the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

Peter kind of just stands there staring like an idiot for a good few seconds and then slowly kneels down. “Um, hi,” he says, in the gentlest voice he can manage. The puppy, who can’t be older than a few weeks and looks completely starved and exhausted, whines in response.

Peter holds out his hand for the dog to sniff. It lifts its head lazily and leans forward, nose twitching and dry. “You need water, huh? Come on, I know a place.”

—

“Shelob,” Tony greets without looking up from whatever project he’s working on. “What can I do for you at… one in the fucking morning?”

“I need your help with something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad or make me get rid of him—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, what have you done now?”

“He was just so helpless and cold and small and…” Peter swallows and reveals the puppy, presently wrapped up in his hoodie. “Meet Nugget.”

Tony’s face is the epitome of Disappointed Dad. He stares, open-mouthed, and after a second his shoulders fall. “Well, fuck.”

Peter snuggles Nugget against his chest and steps closer, but then Tony holds up a hand to stop him. “Nah-ah! Not until that thing gets a flea bath!”

Hope sparks in Peter’s chest. “You mean we can keep him?”

“I mean there’s no way I’m getting near him until I know I won’t break out in hives.”

“That’s not how fleas work.”

“Do I care? No. Come on, let’s go to the bathroom.”

—

“Why do you have flea shampoo?”

Peter’s inquiry is made tentatively. They both have their hands in the sud-filled sink as they systematically wash Nugget’s fur.

“There was… an incident a while ago. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Peter stares. Blinks. “Okay. Well, I think he’s clean.”

Nugget barks as if in agreement, and so Peter and Tony lift him out of the basin and set him on a pile of no doubt expensive, fluffy white towels. Tony takes the lead after that. He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with the yapping, impatient puppy—even when Nugget tries to claw at him and shake himself dry, Tony never loses his cool.

A few minutes later they’re sitting on their stomachs watching Nugget stomp around on a blanket. There’s water in a bowl for him at one corner and a plate of chopped up chicken at another.

“I can’t take him home,” Peter says morosely after a few minutes. “May won’t let me keep him.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Where does she even think you are right now?”

“...In my bed.”

“Wow,” Tony says, deadpan. “Okay, well, I most certainly can’t keep him either.”

“What?! Why not?!”

Tony sighs. “I’m Iron Man, if you hadn’t noticed, kiddo—”

“Oh, what, so you’re too tough to look after him?”

“No, I’m too busy. I spend like, twenty-three out of twenty-four hours in a day in my shop and the rest of the time I’m on my knees apologising to Pepper and begging for forgiveness. There’s no time in-between to feed the pup, walk the pup—”

“I could come by,” Peter blurts. “Like, once a day, and I could make sure he’s eaten and play with him and stuff. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—”

“Except to press ‘purchase’ on my shopping cart full of dog food—”

“Tony,” Peter cuts in, pleading, “please? I can’t just drop him off at some kennel so they can—” he covers the dog’s ears, “so they can euthanize him in a week when no one buys him. He deserves so much better, you know?”

Tony frowns, considering it, and Peter waits with his breath caught in his throat until, “God, fine.”

“Yes!”

“But! But! A pet is a serious responsibility, okay? You might as well be adopting a child—”

“What would you know about raising kids?” Peter asks, only jokingly, but Tony just stares and then, for some reason, smiles.

“You have to make sure he’s happy,” Tony says. “You have to be there for him in whatever way he needs, alright? I’ll set up a pen in the penthouse and you can make sure he works off his energy there, and if I have time I’ll even take you both to the park. And if he ever happens to pee on my carpet, I’m counting on you to clean it up.”

“Don’t you have, like, housekeepers for that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, but this is character building stuff.”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll clean up the pee.”

They continue to iron out the details for a while and bicker over whether Nugget’s last name should be Parker or Stark, and it’s only when Pepper walks in—still in her pajamas, bleary eyed and complaining that they woke her up—that they both decide it should be ‘Potts’.

—

5. (+1)

It starts with a headache.

He’s bent over his desk studying for a Calc test when the throbbing begins. It’s not so bad at first, but after a half hour or so his vision is swimming and he keeps having to take breaks to massage his temples and close his eyes. The equations are all blending together and he can’t think straight anymore.

Peter decides to give up right around then. After all, if he’s not gonna retain any of the information, why bother?

May pokes and prods through dinner. Peter tries to fool her by acting like everything is normal and okay and even manages to make her laugh once or twice.

Inside, dread is coiling through his stomach like an irritated snake. He knows what’s coming next; after all, he doesn’t really get sick anymore, so what else could it be?

Peter tries to sleep but ends up tossing and turning for most of the night. He falls into some kind of half-conscious daze at around four in the morning and rouses about twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat and aching everywhere.

Feeling like he’s gonna vomit, Peter kicks off his blankets and strips the sheets off his bed. He takes his shirt off because the fabric is too abrasive against his skin and it’s like he can feel every fibre tickling against it, grating and chafing. He curls up into a tight ball and covers his ears with his hands to block out the now amplified sounds of the city: car alarms, dogs barking, music playing.

Normally Peter loves the way New York is never silent. Now, he just wishes everyone would shut the fuck up for once.

When he stumbles out of his room a little while later, May is already gone. She’d told him the night before that she had an early shift and for once he’s actually grateful. Haltingly, Peter gets ready for school. He’s already skipped three days this month and if he misses this Calc quiz he’s gonna fucking bomb the class.

May would kill him.

It’s better to suffer a little than die.

Brushing his teeth makes his head spin and the minute he wriggles into his clothes he feels like a caged animal about to claw his skin off. Everything takes so much longer than normal. He doesn’t eat because the mere thought of food makes the back of his throat sting with bile.

On the train, he closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to tune out the constant screeching of the rails. One day, on God, he will make it a personal project to oil every fucking line in the subway.

At his fifth stop, an old lady boards and all the seats are taken.

Peter swallows thickly and stands. Black spots dance in his vision and he grabs onto the overhead bar—something he hasn’t actually needed to use since he was a little kid—and tries not to pass out.

He almost misses the stop to get to school, but slips out at the last second, millimetres away from getting his backpack caught in the doors. Peter is hot all over and lightheaded as he makes his way out of the station. It’s even hotter up above, what with summer coming now and all.

Peter is late and he doesn’t need his watch to tell; Flash’s car is already parked out front instead of zooming through the drop off to run him over (which, hey, silver lining), and the majority of the student body is already inside.

Peter has to stop multiple times on his way to Spanish just to breathe. By the time he gets there he’s at least ten minutes late for roll call.

“Mr. Parker,” his teacher greets, unimpressed. “So glad you could join us.”

Peter makes a noise and takes the proffered quiz. He wonders absently why some people choose to teach. What is it, like, some kind of power trip for them?

He has five minutes to finish the quiz but doesn’t make it past the first question. Ned volunteers to collect them and stops at Peter’s desk while Professor Scott outlines today’s lesson plan.

“Dude,” he whisper-hisses, “you look like complete shit. What on Earth are you doing here right now?”

“Test,” Peter mutters dully, resting his cheek on his hand and closing his eyes. “Here you go. Didn’t finish it.”

Ned takes it carefully, holding it with two fingers like it’s covered in disease. “Do you want me to get the nurse or something?”

Peter hums. “No. Just… headache.”

Slowly Ned backs away. “Um—”

“Mr. Leeds!” Professor Scott says, loudly. Ned jumps. “Is there a problem back there?”

Yes, Peter thinks. You’re the human version of nails on a fucking chalk board. Please, for the love of all that is holy, just start on the vocab.

Only he accidentally says all of that out loud.

The whole class is staring. Flash is slack-jawed. Betty Brant’s eyes are the size of small moons.

“Parker,” Scott grits out—and Peter has denominated him to just Scott now out of reciprocation and spite; “You just earned yourself a shiny new detention. I’d like you to take this slip to the principal’s office. Please.”

Oh, thank God. At least it’ll be quiet there.

Peter stands and brushes past Ned and it literally feels like flames of hell are licking against his skin. He almost vomits. This is decidedly not good.

He takes the paper. “Gladly, good sir.”

When he’s gone, there’s an outburst of muttering that his enhancements let him hear. It only makes the overload worse. Peter covers his ears with his hands again and, overcome with a sudden wave of vertigo, ducks into the bathroom.

He barely makes it to the toilet before emptying his stomach of last night’s food.

Peter sags against the wall, panting. He keeps his eyes closed and waits for the world to stop spinning. About ten minutes later, the smell of jasmine shampoo—normally welcome—causes him to lean over and retch again.

MJ pokes her head inside the unlocked stall. “Jesus,” she whispers. The second her hands touch his body he flinches and she immediately retracts them. “Fuck, sorry. Ned said you wigged out in Spanish. I looked for you in the Principal's office but you weren’t there and... What’s—what’s wrong? I thought you couldn’t even get sick.”

“Bad headache,” he mutters, spitting into the toilet. It’s easier than explaining about his freakish mutations and how they sometimes go completely haywire, leaving him on edge and nauseous and irritable.

MJ grabs him some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with. “Did you take anything?”

“Pain meds don’t work on me.”

“Does May know? You should have called in.”

“Couldn’t. Can’t miss my test.”

She sighs. “Your final is like fifty percent of your grade and you could pass it with your eyes closed. You can miss your test, you’re just afraid of getting anything lower than an A.”

Peter is silent. “You got me there.”

MJ’s hand twitches like she wants to touch him but knows she can’t. “You need to go home. Lie down, get some rest.”

“May is working,” Peter says, “and if I have to take the subway again right now I’ll die. I really will. It’s so—the smell and the noise and I can’t sit down and—”

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Just give it.”

She’s holding her hand out for it and giving him a no-nonsense expression that kind of reminds Peter of Pepper Potts on a rampage. He’s seen what happens to Tony when he crosses her, so he fishes his phone out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Hold on.”

She stands and leaves. Peter closes his eyes again. He tunes out her conversation because if he doesn’t, he’s absolutely gonna vomit again and nobody wants that.

MJ slips back inside the stall. “Okay, solved. Do you still feel like you’re gonna vomit?”

Peter thinks about it. “No.”

“Good. We’re gonna go to the nurse, okay?”

“Oh boy.”

—

Tony Stark walks into Peter’s school and finds the hallways empty. The classroom doors are shut and the muted sounds of teachers lecturing are the only signs that anyone is here at all.

He finds Peter in the infirmary, sitting on the examination table with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes.

He’s at his side in an instant. “Kid?”

It’s surprise that gets Peter’s eyes open, but the little spider baby immediately regrets it. He flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony,” he whispers, like the name is all he can manage and the questions will have to wait for later.

Tony looks him over. There are no obvious injuries. The girl on the phone had said it was just a headache, but Tony is way more experienced with Peter’s brand of bullshit and knows there’s usually something else going on beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna go talk to the nurse and then get you out of here, okay?”

A nod.

It’s always a bad thing when he doesn’t argue. Peter Parker would start a fight about what kind of pizza to order, even if you suggest the kind he really wants, just to be a stubborn little shit about things.

Tony slips out of the exam room. The nurse looks up when he enters her office. “Oh my—Mr. Stark?!”

“Yes, hello,” Tony takes a cautious step forward as she stands. He doesn’t bother to sit. “I’m here to pick up the little gremlin in there.”

Her face flushes. “I didn’t know you’d been called, I—I figured I would just let him wait it out, you know? He didn’t want to be touched, so it was hard to figure out what was up and—so it’s real? About the internship?”

“Of course. Why would he lie?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Well… you know how kids can be.”

“Do I?”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.

Tony sighs. “Look, Nurse—uh, Timms—Nurse Timms, can I please just sign the kid out and take him home? He’s clearly in pain here.”

She starts rifling through her desk for a form. “I mean, I can admit you to take him home, but I really suggest you talk with the principal first—Peter was given a detention before he was brought to my ward, see, and I was—” she shakes her head. “I thought he might be faking.”

Tony stares without blinking for a whole five seconds and then, “Detention? For what?”

“I heard he bad-mouthed a teacher or something. But to be fair, Professor Scott isn’t exactly what I’d call patient.”

“Well, be that as it may,” Tony takes the form she hands him to sign, “my kid doesn’t fake. He has a condition, see. Gets uh… overloaded. Sounds, smells, it can be too much for him. Probably why he snapped.”

“That… that makes sense.”

“Yes,” he says succinctly, and hands the paper back. “You’d know that if you bothered to ask. Anyway, I’ll be going. Thanks for the help, Nurse Times.”

“Uh, it’s—it’s Timms—”

The door shuts behind him.

—

MJ was forced to go back to class. She’d argued and protested but Nurse Timms was insistent. So, MJ had relented. She’d pressed the lightest of kisses on his forehead and it surprisingly hadn’t felt that bad, and then she’d gone.

Tony Stark had shown up about twenty minutes later and it’s just when Peter’s starting to think it was all just a vivid hallucination that the smell of coffee and motor oil fills his senses again. It’s overwhelming but not debilitating.

“Kiddo,” Tony whispers, “is it okay to touch you?”

Peter cracks an eye. Everything is bright but Tony’s suit is mercifully black, so he focuses on that. “I don’t know. I don’t wanna move.”

“Well I gotta get you outta here somehow.”

“But my detention—”

“I already got you out of it,” Tony says breezily. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Tony,” Peter says, cheeks flushing. “You can’t just bribe my principal into—”

“I didn’t bribe anyone. I just explained the situation and besides, Morita’s an old friend.”

Peter closes his eyes again as he frowns. “You’re friends with my principal?”

“I’m a benefactor for your school, too,” Tony says. “But don’t tell anyone, it’s a secret.”

Something shifts in the air. Tony is sitting now. “Happy’s waiting outside,” he says, “but whenever you’re ready.”

Peter thinks about it for a few seconds and decides it’s gonna have to happen at some point, anyway. Might as well rip the band-aid off now. Slowly he takes a deep breath and manages to sit up with Tony’s help. The older man tries to avoid touching him as much as possible, but surprisingly enough the weight of his hand against Peter’s spine isn’t crushing or aggravating. It doesn’t hurt.

“Baby steps,” Tony says softly. “We’ll take you out the side door, okay?”

Even getting to the door is slow going but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. Right before they open it, Tony stops and pulls his sunglasses off. “Here, try these.”

Peter puts them on. He feels ridiculous because like, they work on Tony who was literally born in the seventies, but Peter really doesn’t dig the groovy shades. Regardless they’re better than nothing and even help a little.

The halls are empty again. Most of the students will be in the gym right about now, or the cafeteria for lunch. They don’t run into anybody on the way out and as soon as they’re in the back of the car, Peter sags against Tony’s side. He feels like he’s just run ten miles.

“Drive, Hogan,” Tony says, and then the partition glides up.

For a few seconds it’s almost completely quiet. Noise suppression tech, Peter realises, and he feels like he could cry from relief. For the first time in hours there’s just… nothing. No traffic, no dozens of students talking at once. The air conditioning unit is filtered, so he’s not being attacked with the smell of body odour and clashing perfume scents and Axe cologne. There’s just Tony and beautiful, amazing, showstopping silence.

Tony shifts a little. “Better?”

Peter nods, figuring it’s still probably not safe to speak.

“We’ll be there soon,” Tony says softly.

—

Peter doesn’t remember much after the car ride. He can vaguely recall protesting getting out of the Audi, and he remembers Tony assuring him that everything would be okay, and the next thing he knows he’s lying on his back in an utterly dark bedroom. The walls are insulated just like the car had been, so there’s just no sound, and the bed sheets probably have the highest thread count of all time.

Something shifts beside Peter and he realises Tony is there, feeling his forehead.

“What—?”

“Oh, hey,” Tony greets. “I think you might’ve blacked out there. All the noise hit you at once when we got out of the car and you just…”

“I fainted?”

Tony snorts softly. “Relax. It happens to the best of us. How do you feel, Webster?”

Peter hums. “Bad.”

“Let’s try a scale of one to ten.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Ten.” Tony lets out a little grunt at that and so Peter elaborates, “It was at like, a twenty this morning, so.”

“Ah, I see.” Tony’s grip shifts to Peter’s wrist to measure his pulse. “This okay?”

“It’s fine.”

And it really is. He doesn’t feel like burning his skin off or anything. Tony’s hands are just warm.

“Any idea what brought this on?”

Peter shifts a little. “I uh… haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.” He swallows. “Like, at all.”

“And how long’s that been going on for?”

“I don’t know. On and off for a few weeks, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Tony sighs and pulls his hand away. He rakes it through his hair. “Kiddo, what have we said about communication? Does May know?”

“....No?”

There’s a long pause where Tony just kind of sits there thinking, like he wants to say whatever comes next carefully. He massages his temples and then: “Alright, scooch over.”

“What?”

“Make room for me.”

Peter blinks and then, tentatively, scoots over a little to allow Tony room to lie down. The older man does, arching his back a little and grunting in pain because he’s like, ancient. They’re not touching, but very slowly Peter starts inching closer again. Eventually he works up the courage to try resting his head on Tony’s chest, which is terrifying not only because it’s Tony Stark, but also because he’d rather not have his brain implode.

Nothing happens. “Your fabric softener must be like, super expensive,” he whispers, because this is actually better than the sheets.

Tony snorts. “I’ll ask Pep about it.”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise and before he knows it, his eyes are closing. For once they actually feel heavy, and the steady rhythm of Tony’s heart beat is soothing, dependable.

Tony’s hands brush lightly over Peter’s hair and then thread through it. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter promises. “Good.”

And so Tony’s fingers run through his curls over and over, gently, lightly. His thumb sweeps over Peter’s cheek once, too, and then he starts muttering in Italian.

Peter cracks an eye. “Are you telling me your grocery shopping list?”

Tony laughs a little. “My mom used to do it for me,” he says. “Something about just hearing her speak the language made me feel… relaxed, I guess. Didn’t matter what she was saying.”

Peter smiles and wraps an arm around Tony’s torso. “Tell me something else.”

“You wanna hear about the time I almost blew up a Chem lab?”

“Uh, duh.”

So Tony launches into it, speaking in a low voice and absently twisting one of Peter’s curls around his finger. It feels nice and the headache is fading fast.

Peter sleeps. 

[mizuritamanami]

What Goes Unseen

Linked Universe Time Warriors and Legend angst to sort of fluff?

They all have secrets. That much is a given, and sort of hard to miss, given the way Four clams up when asked about his moods, how often Wild has to just... stop and leave and come back to himself when they pass ruins sometimes, or the way Twilight vanishes without a trace to go off doing Hylia only knew what. 

And that wasn't even touching on the walking enigmas Time and Legend could be, so sure. They all have their secrets. Even bubbly Wind and soft spoken Sky. Secrets, secrets everywhere, in plain view or otherwise. 

But something about Wild’s Hyrule has been eating away at Warriors for weeks. Enough that Legend has even noticed his change in mood, his disinterest in most of the things he normally jumped at. 

Enough that the veteran adventurer surprises him by pulling him aside to talk in the guise of a patrol, enough that he wears Warriors down with enough pointless questions that the knight just explodes to ask him what the hell it is he wants.

"Somethings been on your mind for almost a month. You're starting to scare the old man," Legend says bluntly, "I didn't think you could top that "launch tree into bokoblin camp and rain fire from above" heart attack you gave him, but here we are. What gives?" 

For a moment, Warriors just stares at him, because firstly, how dare he insinuate that that plan hadn't worked perfectly outside of the landing, and secondly, since when did you pay that much attention to me?

He huffs. 

"I'm fine."

"Uh. No." 

Worth a try, anyway, Warriors thinks, turning away from the scrutinizing eyes of the young man across from him. 

Legend notes the way his fingers dig into the blue cloth around his neck, and sighs, gesturing to a fallen log. 

"Sit," he says, "tell me whats bothering you. If its got you like this, it warrants a serious talk, without pretense."

"Didn't know you knew such fancy words."

"Don't make me take it back and kick you in the shins."

Warriors has to laugh at that at least a little, so he sits, as instructed, and watches Legend plop unceremoniously into the mix of leaflitter, pine nettles, and flower petals on the forest floor. 

He's still fidgeting with the scarf, and the words come slowly at first, then frantic and almost angry. 

"My mother used to tell me, you know.... that there are stories, in the absences. In what we don't see. And- the more I look around, the more I see you- all of you- in Wild's Hyrule. Goddess, you're all everywhere.... but-.... out of the nine of us, there are only eight call backs. Even Wild's got his own legends already. So I can't help but wonder--..."

"Where you are."

"Where I went! What happened? Did- did I fail, somehow? Did I do something wrong? There's nothing left that says I ever even existed!"

"You existed to us. To Wild, to me, and Time, and Twi and the others. Between all of us, there's no denying that you were here."

Legend realizes belatedly that he's only just barely fended off a fit of sobs from the knight, and counts himself lucky and also gives himself a brownie point or three for the save, just before he recognizes the familiar thwacking and tramping of bronze armor against offending tree branches and leather boots on forest floor somewhere behind him.

He feels the heat come through his voice before he can stop the words from coming out of his mouth. 

"Besides, you didn't completely fuck a timeline, then leave another to Ganon for seven whole years, now did you? Too busy cleaning up other people's messes."

Time froze as his foot settled on the line of the clearing they were in, and the pregnant silence in the moment it took him to school his voice into something normal made Warrior's skin crawl it was so uncomfortable. 

"..... T-There you boys are.... Twilight was--.... he was getting worried. I'll tell him you just .... stopped for a break."

He turned on his heel in a perfect about face that made Warriors knight-side a little jealous, but the rest of him looked to Legend, who was avoiding the direction Time had gone entirely. Realization dawned a moment after.

"......... that was cruel, Legend..... I didn't want you to make me feel better if you were just going to tear him down. Or tell his secrets."

"...... if I'm honest Wars? That last jab was more for my sake than yours."

"What?"

"Whose timeline do you think his failure ruined?"

The sharp intake of breath on Warriors part told Legend he'd picked up on all the appropriate cues. 

".... that's one of my secrets, for spilling his to you, I guess. I don't know if I'm ever gonna be able to forgive him. But hey, since when has Hylia ever cared what we thought? Probably hasn't since Sky...... the point is, you aren't a failure for having to pick up after everyone else, and then not getting thanked for it. You're like that with all of us, too. Constantly doing things hoping someone will at the least notice. I noticed. All of us have. You're a goddamn hero, same as the rest of us, and the only reason your scarf isn't locked up in a chest out here somewhere is probably because you wouldn't part with that thing if it cost you your freaking soul or something. Duh."

Its quiet for a moment, and Warriors takes the time to look down at the blue around his neck a moment before smiling.  

"..... you should apologize to Old Father Time.... but you're right.  I guess its still all in the things you don't see at first glance- I never would have thought you a confidant. You might find out some interesting things about him if you sat like you did with me."

"Id rather eat one of Wild's disgusting potions made out of butterflies and lizalfos."

"Don't jinx yourself, Vet." 

"Shut up."

~~~~~

Legend was going to murder Warriors.

Don't jinx yourself my ass, you set this up, you sorry-- he cut his own thoughts off to hiss under his breath.

Not only was Legend laid up with Time looking out for him as first watch, but he'd had to drain four of those nasty freaking potions. 

"I hate. Lightning. So much."

Normally, that would have earned him a chuckle, or at least a sympathetic hum.

But Time just turned his head towards a darker section of the underbrush that Legend knew for sure he absolutely could not see anything in. 

Was it the being ignored or the uncertainty and hurt in Time's expression that made his stomach twist? 

"I said--" 

"I heard you, Legend. I'm sorry, I didn't think you wanted to speak to me." 

"...... oh..." 

The simple acceptance of Legend's earlier ire pulled all of the heat right out from under him, and he deflated some into his bedroll. 

"........ I am sorry.... I know it doesn't mean much to you, but... I am. Even the sword didn't think I was good enough, and judging by your reaction, it was probably right."

Legend winced. 

"What kind of bullshit cop-out is that? The sword doesn't make you a damn hero, it just points and grabs like a stupid claw game."

"Success, does, then. And that is a baton I clearly didn't pass to you, that I missed out on passing down peace..... it eats at me, some nights when I can't sleep, that I still managed to grasp at straws and hold so tight to so much good that I got to keep it. And I doomed you. I have everything and you were left wanting." 

Legend stared at his back, the way he bent around the biggoron sword leaning into his right shoulder to be drawn if need be by his left hand. 

"Im afraid I'm going to lose it all one day because I failed you so badly."

"I'm not that pitiful."

"Legend-"

"Look, I'm fine--"

"What was her name, Legend?" 

The air left Legends lungs in a sudden, sharp breath. 

"..... That's what I thought..."

"...... you were ten, if that..... yes, it sucks, and time travel is a pain, but you were fucking ten. Hylia sent a ten year old, let his tree mentor die right in front of him, and then continued to traumatize- REPEATEDLY traumatize- a child. Yes, I'm angry. Bitter and jaded, even. But don't you dare get so self important that you start thinking the blame fits on your shoulders. You're an old fucking man, not a god."

"Interesting choice of words...."

"No. No, because you're just gonna start unloading more trauma. If this is about that creepy mask, then no. That doesn't count either!"

"You're awfully concerned about this particular issue.... alright, I'll let it drop--"

"No, you ten year old little brat in a mentally fifty year olds achy jointed body, you're gonna go the fuck to sleep and stop moping. Its my turn to take watch and I'll be damned if I have to sit up watching you get all weepy into your pillow and trying to snitch Wild's slate to call your wife at two in the goddamn morning. Go to bed!"

Time stared at him in surprise, (the ten year old in him in question seriously debating biting the finger wagging in front of his nose) before Legends phrasing hit him. 

"Oh, I’m going to absolutely kill Warriors for telling you about how I was when we met."

"Brat! Bed! Bounce to it, bunny hat kid!"

"You are the last person--"

"Bed!"

"Alright! Alright! Fine! You're lucky I don't fit those masks anymore," Time muttered, picking himself up off the stump to go peel off his armor and crawl into his bedroll. He was silent as Legend pulled himself into the space he'd emptied, then sighed and smiled. 

"..... thank you, Vet." 

"Yeah yeah yeah. Go to sleep before you wake up Twilight. He has ears like a fucking wolfhou---....... oh my goddess you're kidding me."

"Shhh."

"Goddess I hate you sometimes." 

Warriors, apparently woken by the hissing through Legends teeth, chuckled to himself. 

Its all in the things you don't see, I guess, he thinks.

Secrets secrets, everywhere, but.... together, we're all still here for each other. I can live with that. 

"Good night bratty bunny and feral bunny."

Two furious choruses of "HEY!" were the perfect lullaby for Warriors to drop right back off to sleep. 

Yeah...

He could definitely live with that.

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part nine

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry (y/n) walks to care of magical creatures, worried lines creasing her face. 

You were planning on seeing Harry first thing this morning so he could explain how the fuck his name ended up in the Goblet. But Harry hadn’t shown his face at breakfast. You were a little disappointed, knowing the shoe prank would have cheered him up a slightly.

 (y/n) had started getting very worried when Ron said he “didn’t give a rat's ass about where Harry was.” Hermione was nowhere to be found and all your other friends were too hungover to be of any help. You regretted never going to sleep, you and Draco had stolen some Wideye potion from Snape’s cabinet, but the potion made your mind feel foggy. On second thought, maybe that was just the hangover. 

The fresh air doesn’t help much at all, the wind makes you dizzy and your eyes can’t seem to focus with all the light sweeping through your sunglasses. If it weren’t for Harry, you would have done the same as Cedric and Nick, who both didn’t bother to go to class today. 

“Harry!” You croak, wincing at the pain growing in your head.

“(y/n)! Uh what’s with the sunglasses?” Harry says, glancing up quickly at the cloudy sky.

“I think it’s pretty self explanatory.” You say, inching the glasses down to show him your bloodshot eyes. 

“Harry, what happened with the Goblet.” You say, your tone becoming more serious.

“ I’m not sure, somebody must have put my name in somehow. Moody thinks somebody’s trying to kill me again.” Harry sighs running his hand through his hair. “ And Ron's jealous, and half the bloody school hates me.” He looks so exasperated, you wish you could just take all his worries off his shoulders. You missed the happy boyish glint in his eyes.You grab his face in your hands. 

“Hey, I don’t hate you.” You say softly, which finally brings a small smile to his lips.

Draco’s blood boils as he walks the grounds to Hagrid’s hut, seing (y/n) and Potter’s silhouettes. She’s resting her head on Harry’s shoulder and laughing at his stupid jokes. Draco knew that should be his shoulder. And to make matters worse she seems to only have eyes for that big Hufflepuff oaf. Finally (y/n) breaks free from Harry and joins the rest of the Slytherins. Draco motions for Crabbe and Goyle to shut up as he nears Potter.

“Ah, look, boys, it’s the champion, got your autograph books? Better get a signature now, because I doubt he’s going to be around much longer. . . . Half the Triwizard champions have died . . . how long d’you reckon you’re going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task’s my bet.”  

Before Draco could pull anymore insults from his brilliant mind, Hagrid arrived carrying huge crates filled with those disgusting skrewts. The giant man explains that students will be paired up to take the skrewts on a walk. Draco takes a leash attached to the grey slug like thing and joins (y/n)’s side.

“Be my partner?” A voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Of course.” You answer, sounding even raspier than before. 

“Bad hangover huh?” Draco says as the creature starts venturing off.

“Hmm” Is all you managed to say back, your head hurting from all the thinking you’ve been doing about the Goblet mystery.

Walking the skrewts was a disaster, everytime one of their ends exploded it would send the skrewt, and the poor student walking it, flying forward a couple feets. Lavender Brown was constantly screeching because apparently her skrewt was “trying to kill” her.

Yeah I'm rooting for its success.

Draco wouldn’t even let you near the skrewt, holding it out as far away from you as he could. 

“Why can’t I walk it? It’s just like a dog.”

“Dog?! Have you seen this thing? No, I'm not letting you near this death machine. It’s already burned you once...”

“You’re so annoying Dray.” You say playfully shoving his shoulder.

“(y/n) you can’t even walk straight yet.”

Just at the right moment his skrewt’s end blasted and sent him flying in the mud. You laugh so hard falling to the floor, bracing yourself for the next wave of pain. 

“I’m dropping this class next year, I swear.” He grumbles, getting up and glaring at the creature.

You were mad, furious even at Draco for making those stupid Potter stinks badges. Draco was furious at you for jinxing most of them to say Malfoy stinks instead. The two of you weren’t speaking anymore, making the atmosphere with your Slytherin friends very awkward. You took some consolation in knowing that Millicent and Daphne had refused to wear the badges, but for the past week you had been spending most of your time with your brother’s friends or Harry and Hermione. To add fuel to the fire, Draco has gotten into a fight with Harry and jinxed Hermione’s teeth. It also  didn’t help that Cedric was now followed by a group of girls everywhere he went, preventing the two of you from having a private conversation.

On your way to charms, Jeremy appears next to you, fixing his yellow tie. 

“What do you want?” You say slightly angrier than you had meant to.

“Nothing. Um Cedric wanted me to give this to you.” Jeremy says, pulling out a small envelope from his robes.

“Oh thanks.” You say but he’s already ducked inside a classroom.

You rip open the envelope. It reads:

Picnic tomorrow?

Miss you, 

Cedric.

P.S: there will be chocolate frogs.

(y/n)’s bad day had just gotten a great deal better.

You were waiting by the Black lake for Cedric, while everyone else had gone to Hogsmeade. It was a surprisingly nice day for early november, you weren’t cold in your hoodie but you weren't warm either. You spot, from across the grounds, Cedric clumsily balancing a huge basket in one hand and levitating a couple other objects with his wand. You can’t help but notice how dashing he makes the Hufflepuff uniform look. He sets down a checkered blanket on the ground and throws a couple pillows on top.

“Ta-da!” He says opening the basket, filled with warm butterbeers, little pastries and fruits.

“Ced, you’re too nice.” You say giving him a long hug.

“Wait, I'm not done,” He says reaching into his pocket and pulling out a chocolate frog. “As promised.”

“I brought you something too.” You say, ruffling through your bag and handing him a small pin with a gold butterfly. “In French culture, butterflies are supposed to bring good luck, and since the first task is coming up and-”

Cedric’s lips crash into yours. Warm. He tastes warm.He tastes like cinnamon, honey and ginger. He slides one hand in your hair and holds your waist firmly with the other. Finally, you break apart for air. 

“I love it.” He whispers in your ear, grabbing the pin from your hand and securing it to his sweater. He’s wearing his usual lopsided grin.

“I’m glad.” You say, a huge smile spreading on your face.

The rest of the afternoon was one of the nicest you could remember. Cedric had brought bread for the ducks and you laying on his chest, finding shapes in the clouds while he played with a baby duckling. Suddenly he stops humming, waking you up from your dazed state. Cedric shifts, sitting up slightly.

“(y/n) what’s your wand core?”

“Veela hair, my grandmother’s. Why?”

“Just wondering if you had the same as Fleur. She mentioned it  at the weighing of the wands.”

“What’s yours?” You say not wanting to stay on the subject of your breathtaking cousin much longer.

“Unicorn hair.” He says twirling his wand around. He stops. “So if I put your hair inside a wand it would work?” He wraps a strand of your hair around his wand. You ponder his question for a couple seconds.

“Probably, but it would be a weak wand. I don’t think I have a lot of Veela genes.” You say smiling as Cedric plays with your hair.

“You’re always underselling yourself, you know.” He chuckles before planting another kiss on your lips. Then an idea pops up in your head. Cedric looks confused when you suddenly get up. He catches your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Calm down Romeo, i’m getting flowers for your flower crown.”

“My flower crown?”

(y/n) comes back a little while later, holding dozens of brightly colored flowers. You sit down crossed legged and start knotting the stems together. Cedric puts his head in your lap.

“Are you nervous about the first task? It’s only a week away.” You say looking down at him.

“A little, but i’ve got this now.” He runs his fingers over the golden butterfly. You smile softly. After that, you and Cedric debate about Quidditch as he feeds you sweets because your hands are busy braiding the flowers together.

“Ta-daa!” You say holding up the finished product. The crown was full of daisies, daffodils and carnations.

“Can I put it on?” He says excitedly.

“Of course, I made it for you.” You answer, placing it on his head. He darts like a little kid towards the lake to gaze at his reflection.

“I’m never taking it off.” Cedric says quietly as you walk towards him. He turns and hugs you tightly. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

“We should head back.” You say motioning to the group of girls, back from Hogsmeade, giggling behind a tree.

“Well shit.”

Cedric pulls his wand out of his pocket, mumbles a spell and the blankets that tidied up the blankets and basket. Wingardium leviosa he whispers, making the objects levitate. Then he flings you over his shoulder and makes a mad dash towards the castle.

“Ced! Aah put me down! I swear Cedric! CEDRIC AMOS DIGGORY put me down!” (y/n) says laughing wildly.

Draco was in a particularly bad mood at dinner. All anyone would talk about was stupid Diggory and his stupid flower crown. A number of girls had tried to replicate their own flower crowns but Draco knew exactly where the one on Diggory’s auburn head was from. He had worn multiple of those as a child and was always amazed at the skill of her nimble fingers.

Yeah, keep grinning you big oaf. Little do you know she’s made a dozen of those for me.

“Dragons?”

“Yes (y/n), try to keep up please.” Hermione says quickly, walking to her next class. “He says he saw dragons in the Forbidden forest. And Karkaroff used to be a death eater.”

“Oh. my. god.” You say, your brain piecing everything together.

“What?” Hermione says, glancing at her watch. “What? Please I haven’t got all day.”

“Hermione, remember at the World cup, when I rented that property to the ministry? Remember? Dragons! That’s what they’re using it for.”

You can practically see the wheels turning in her mind. “That makes perfect sense. How did we not figure that out.” She says shaking her head wistfully.

“Nevermind that, how is Harry going to fight a fucking dragon.” You say, racking your brain for spells. Another worry hits you. ”I have to warn Cedric.”

“That’s what Harry’s doing right now.”

“Cedric, do you have a plan? For the dragon, I mean.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it, but i’ve thought about this more.” Cedric says, kissing your neck softly. A smile tugs as your lips as you mumble “You’re so cheesy Ced.”

You and Cedric were in a small alcove near the potion classrooms. His warm tongue grazes your lower lip, making you unable to focus 

“I’m serious, I can help you if you want.” He pulls you into a hug, resting his head on top of your hair.

“There is one way you can help.”

“How?”

“What’s your favourite type of dog?” 

“What?” You say, incredulously.

“Just answer.”

“Labrador.”  

“Concentrate, Harry, concentrate” Hermione says.

“What d’you think I’m trying to do?” says Harry angrily. “A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason. . . . Okay, try again. . . .” 

(y/n) and Hermione were in an empty classroom, trying to teach Harry a summoning spell.

“You need to flick your wrist more.” You say, your nose buried in Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed. 

After what seemed like hours, Harry finally got the hang of the Summoning spell.

“That’s better, Harry, yeah that’s loads better,” Hermione said, looking exhausted but very pleased. 

“Well, now we know what to do next time I can’t manage a spell,” Harry said, throwing a rune dictionary back to Hermione, so he could try again, “threaten me with a dragon. Right . . .” 

He raises his wand once more. “Accio Dictionary!” 

The heavy book soared out of Hermione’s hand, flew across the room, and Harry caught it. “Harry, I really think you’ve got it!” you say clapping. He blushes a little. 

 “Just as long as it works tomorrow,” Harry says. “The Firebolt is going to be much farther away than the stuff in here, it’s going to be in the castle, and I’m going to be out there on the grounds.”

 “That doesn’t matter,” said Hermione firmly “Just as long as you’re concentrating really, really hard on it, it’ll come.”

 “Harry, you’d better get some sleep . . . you’re gonna need it.” You say motioning at the window, where the sky was a moonless pitch black.

The next morning, you woke up in blind panic. Dragons. It seemed so much more daunting than it had yesterday. The sick feeling in your stomach only got worse when the champions were escorted out at breakfast. Everything seemed to be going so fast. Next thing you knew, you and Draco were walking towards the forbidden forest. (y/n) and Draco were on speaking term again because he had agreed to do her potions homework for the month.

“Go get a good spot Dee, i’ll join you soon.” You say before running forward to the champion’s tent.

When you enter, you see Krum looking sulkier than usual on a stool and Fleur  fiddling with her hair nervously. You almost felt bad for her before she rolled her ice blue eyes at you. Harry was talking to Hermione and Cedric was pacing back and forth, his skin greener than usual.

“Hey,” You say touching his shoulder. He jumps slightly at your touch. “ Are you okay?”

“Of course!.” He says, but his voice wavers a little. “ What are you doing here?”

“Came to wish you good luck” You say tapping the little golden butterfly gleaming on his chest. “And give you this.” You say standing on your tiptoes and pressing a lingering kiss on his lips. He grabs your waist tightly, not wanting to let you go.

The sight of you and Cedric kissing makes Krum even surlier than before and Harry is now the one who looks green. At the same time, Ludo Bagman walks in.

“ Ah, young love.” He says, which makes you both pull away breathless. “I’m sorry to break this up but i’m going to have to ask you girls to please step out.” Ludo Bagman says to Hermione and (y/n), who was blushing furiously.

“Good luck Harry.” You say, squeezing his hand right before exiting the tent.

A/N: I’m gonna make a taglist for ripple effect so send me an ask to be added xx. ALSO this is my ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE gif he’s just so cute.

[nightowlfandom]

Prompto Argentum- Under The Waterfalls

These times may seem dark, but this too shall pass. I hope that I can work extra hard to brighten someone’s day throughout these next few weeks.

Masterlist here

Let’s Begin.

...

"You know what I just noticed?" you asked aimlessly to no one. It was probably one of the hottest days of the year and you and your friends had decided to just load up the car and take a drive somewhere. You didn't know if camping, hunting, chilling at the beach or whatever would come from this trip, but whatever happened was gonna be an adventure.

"What would that be?" Ignis chuckled from from front seat, already knowing what you were gonna say. It was a routine thing that you always did. You always found something about one of the guys you liked on a particular day. "What ever could it be this time?"

"Hold on, I'm thinking." you tapped your chin. "Gladio finally finished that 30 book series he was working on!" you suddenly said, looking over at the taller muscular guy who was nose deep in yet another book you probably didn't know the name of. "Ignis learned five new recipes this week! Noctis caught three rare fish in a row in the same place!" you continued.

"What about me?"

Prompto turned his head to look at you as he had been sitting in the front seat. He narrowed his eyes at you as if assuming you wouldn't have mentioned him in the first place. Call it paranoia, but you weren't too sure Prompto necessarily liked you. Sure he was nice and everything, but there was something about when you would try to talk to him. You didn't know if he just hadn't warmed up to you or secretly wanted you to get run over by a train.

"….Your hair is super floofy today!" you said. You resisted to urge to reach out your hand to touch it. "…and you have a Chocobo feather stuck too." you put a hand over your mouth to resist laughing too loudly.

"Huh?!?" he instantly turned away from you, looking in the side view mirror to see a large neon yellow feather stuck to the top of his hairstyle. "Awh man!" he groaned. "I'll ruin my hair if I try to take it out!"

"Then keep it in! I think it makes you look cool!" you commented!

"Really?" His tone had changed from partially annoyed to curious. "Like it works for me?"

"One hundred percent!" you replied.

"And that concludes thing 576 Y/N noticed today." Noctis joked, nudging your shoulder. "What will it be next week?"

"Now why would I reveal my secrets! That's something between me and well-….me!" you warned.

"Ah I see! A magician never reveals her secrets." Ignis laughed as he pulled the car to a stop.

"Camping…why am I not surprised." you grumbled lowly. There was a waterfall nearby the campsite. The water rushing through the river was crystal-like, clear as the cloudless sky. "At least it's not that disgusting swamp from last time."

"Yeah, I wonder whose idea that was." Gladio glared over at Noctis.

"It was the perfect fishing spot!" he protested.

You could only shake your head as you walked around to the trunk. You were about to grab one of the bags when a pale hand grabbed the hand before you could.

"I got this."

"Oh, Prompto! It's okay, I can carry it-" you tried to say.

" When a man offers you help, take it." was his reply. Without another word, he grabbed the other bag you had reached for then turned away, walking off to set up the tents. "Remember what happened last time." you could hear him mumbling. Of course he was referring to the time you grabbed something really heavy and took an entire ten minutes just to drag it along to the car.

"Right." you tried to laugh it off. You were left to your own devices after a while, the boys never asked you to help with anything. Them and their traditional ways. You tried to carry a cooler by yourself once, the next thing you know Ignis is scolding Noctis for letting you carry it alone. "Thanks for the tip." you mumbled sadly.

Okay, you may or may not have had a thing for Prompto since…well since you met him. You were really good at hiding it … from him. Only him in particular, he just didn't seem to like you much. Not even as an acquaintance. It felt like he only tolerated you because you were part of the team, but other than that. Did he even see you as a friend? Not in your eyes.

 (Meanwhile)

"You did it again, idiot." Noctis flicked his best friend in the back of the head. Prompto threw down the bags, turning to face the raven-haired male.

"What are you talking about?"

He motioned towards you who was currently having a chat with Ignis who was setting up the cooking station. It took Prompto a second to register what he was referring too. When he realized it, he wound up kicking something.

"AAH FUCK!" he snapped, realizing he rammed his foot onto a boulder in the process. "Damn it!"

"For someone who threatens us on the daily to stay away from Y/N, you're doing a terrible job of marking your 'territory'." He used finger quotes. You didn't belong to Prompto, not even a little. However, the way he talked about you to the others had them thinking he was living in a fantasy land when he said you were off limits.

He didn't intend to come off and rude and mean but for some reason, he always did when it came to you. He didn't know how to explain it, other than the way he knew best. Stay away from you and there wouldn't be any problems. Ignis however must have decided to ignore such a demand.

He could only watch in fury as you laughed at something Ignis said. It must have been real funny because you were holding your sides.

"That little….four eyed miscreant!

"…Do you even know what miscreant means?"

"Shut up!"

...

By the time night fell, you were far from sleepy. You snuck off from the campsite with a towel and a change of clothes. Alone time! Sweet! That sweet waterfall was just begging to be dived into. You tip toed around the tents and as soon as you were far enough, began jogging towards the lake.

You tilted your head to look up at the waterfall. You could see the moon peeking out from the mist of water that followed the falls down to the clear pool. You set down your stuff at the edge of the lake.

Off came your shoes, then your pants, then the shirt. You turned your head towards the campsite. You could barely make out the tents from afar. "It'll be fine." you unclasped your bra. "Not like they're gonna wake up any time soon." you mumbled, letting it fall to the grass. "Off you go demons." you let your undergarments fall to the ground. Without a second thought, you jumped into the water, making a huge splash. You just prayed none of your stuff got wet.

As you surfaced, you allowed yourself to just float for a moment. You stared up at the night sky, it was clear and cloudless. The stars scattered across the sky and the moon was so close you felt like you could touch it with your fingers. The moonlight shone down on the waters, casting a glow over you and everything around you. You waded over to the waterfall, moving behind it to peek out of the distorted lens. You reached out your hand to touch the falling droplets. You sat yourself on a rock, kicking your legs in the slightly warm water. Nothing could possibly ruin this peaceful moment-

"You should be sleeping."

You turned your head to the left, only to see a half dressed Prompto. Apparently he had found the back entrance to the lake. Both of you were hidden from the open space behind the falls, so it didn't worry you too much, but that didn't explain why he was here.

"HOLY SH-!" you instantly crossed your arms over your chest, covering your breasts. " What are you doing!?"

"Hey! It's only me!" You watched his and he unbuckled his belt. "And keep your voice down! You'll wake everyone up."

"D-don't take off your clothes!" you began freaking out. "I was trying to relax here!." you whined.

"Am I not allowed to relax too?" he pulled down his pants and threw them over a rock.

"Not when I'm practically naked!" you snapped. "Did you follow me?"

"I saw you leaving, I just wanted to make sure you were alright!"

"Why would you do that? " you scoffed, turning your head away from him. "You barely even like me." That also didn't explained why he was currently stripping down to his birthday suit!

"You don't know what I like."

"Well I know how you act towards me. It's enough."

Prompto peeled off what was left of his clothes and got into the water. His ducked his head under the waterfall, drenching his hair. He ran his hands through those blonde locks, washing all his stress away. He seemed to not be phased by the situation at all.  "You gonna stare at me all day or what?"

"Please. I wasn't looking at you." you lied through your teeth. Yeah, that was believable. You both were literally two feet away from each other, which was really close now that you really thought about it. You turned your head the other way. Whatever, no way in hell were you leaving.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said after a while.

"Very."

There was an awkward silence between you two. You had never been left alone with Prompto before, and especially not in the nude.

"Been a while since I got to just enjoy a night like this."

"Tell me about it." you replied with a laugh. "Seems like we're always busy with something. Wouldn't be surprised if we had something to do in the morning." you turned your head towards him to find him running his hands through his dripping wet hair.

"Don't jinx it, because it actually might happen." He cracked a smile for the first time since he got there.

"Just stating facts." you slowly turned your head so you were looking straight at him. Your arms were still crossed, forbidding him from seeing anything. "You know how Ignis is with his missions."

"Where the lie in that?" He joked, making you laugh as well. Prompto tried to not let his eyes wander. "Why did you run off anyways?"

"Like I said, this is probably the only time I'll have to myself for a while. I'm taking advantage of it." you shrugged. "Speaking of Ignis, he was talking about you today."

"About what?" He narrowed his eyes into a glare. "What did specs say about me this time?"

"It wasn't anything bad. He was just talking about you liking me or something." you giggled at the thought. "I was laughing because of how unrealistic that thought was. You'd think for such a smart guy, Ignis would make his observations more clear. No way in hell would the be possible, right?"

Prompto stared blankly at you. He went from staring to slowly taking a step, then another then another. It was almost predatory with how he was moving in the water.

"Uh….right?" you nervously laughed again. "P-prompto?" you tightened your arms across your chest to the point where it was starting to ache. You were slowly but surely growing more and more nervous.

"Wrong." were his last words before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to his warm body. He abruptly pressed his lips against yours. It felt kind of weird since he was anchoring his body over your arm, so you lowered them. Your felt your breasts push up against his broad chest as he comfortably tightened his arms around your waist. He was surprised how easily you melted into his touch but happy nonetheless. It took all your strength to not collapse against the rocks. You ran your fingers against his wet hair, gently pulling at each strand. You heart at this point was racing a million miles a minute

When Prompto pulled away, his entire face has flushed a deep pink color. Whether from embarrassment or lust, you couldn't tell. He stared down at you with hooded eyes and an unreadable expression. "You look so-…so damn hot right now."

The way your chest rose and fell so heavily, your innocent expression, those water droplets traveling down your neck, drip down your chest. "W-wait. Don't you have a thing for Cindy?"

"Used to." he corrected. "That changed a long, long time ago. Now all I can think of is you. All I fucking want is you." He began trailing prolonged sloppy kisses on your shoulder.  You tilted your head to the side to give him more access to your shivering skin. You absentmindedly wrapped your legs around his waist, giving him permission to go further with his actions. "I can see you feel the same way." he laughed. Only this wasn't his usual happy-go-lucky laugh. His voice was deep, vibrating almost. He almost sounded like he was growling with every word. "My question is…how far are you going to let me take this."

(….Yeah I couldn't finish this or else this would have been longer than a Game Of Thrones book. So what happens next is left to your discretion. See you next post.)

[funky-boat-zone]

the lighthouse chronicles: part 2/??

black out

something i’ve learned is that only there’s a 50/50 chance that the episode uploaded and the video’s title will actually match up. so i have to check the episode’s title card every time i click on another one to make sure it’s not one i’ve already blogged

i’ll never get over “snugboat harbor”. it makes this series sound like a soothing set of bedtime stories, which i’d probably prefer tbh

“sufferin’ smokestacks” big mac, i can’t believe you’d steal your own brother’s catchphrase like this!

when has big stack ever played practical jokes? i can’t even think of a single instance within this own series

“maybe it was something you ate” warrior, stop. stop implying that these boats have organs, that’s terrible

sunshine is clearly making fun of big mac, and yet she looks just as scared as tugs!sunshine did in the original series

talking abt the cartoon segments for a minute: salty’s toy boat is alive enough to blink, and yet he’s stashed away in the toybox? (could have just been a visual gag, but i’m taking every thing to its most horrific possible conclusion for The Funny)

if aurora is a lighthouse bulb, she’s probably the world’s most ineffective lighthouse because salty and friends would go blind otherwise

the public domain footage used in the musical segments is the stuff of nightmares half the time.

“what’s that crackling sound” sounds like wood creaking, but ok

one of the scariest moments in the original series, and it’s watered down to less than a minute with ten cents and sunshine downplaying how scary it is the whole time.

hercules’ spiel at the end is weirdly faithful to the original episode, idk how to feel

eight is too much

the musical segment is inexplicably at the beginning of the episode

zak still sounds like a chain smoker in this universe, so at least this show got that right 

it’s not safe to go through the canal.

zak, you don’t get to yell at zb to get away from the bridge when you were the one who made him take it under the bridge in the first place when he correctly guessed that his load was too tall and didn’t want to

don’t talk to me through the fourth wall, salty

one bad day

“nothing’s gonna go wrong today” good going warrior, you’ve jinxed it.

the audio for this episode has a lot of mic pops, so i feel like i’m traversing a minefield sound-wise. fun times

warrior might sink someone bc he just wants to show off his rocks

“my good day is turning into a really, really bad one” warrior, most of your current mishaps wouldn’t have taken place if you didn’t decide to show off your rocks.

“stay here, stinker” does lord stinker really have a choice anyway? he’s a barge

there’s at least a few more fires (using footage from “munitions”) across the series. this harbor is arguably even less fire-safe than bigg city port!

hands off!

oh god, oh fuck. it’s another episode with messed up audio. this is gonna suck.

“someday we’ll be bigger tugs” hey ten cents what the fuck does this mean

also sunshine switches liveries constantly throughout episodes, because they keep using footage from “sunshine”, but it’s especially noticeable here

yes, a wave dragged sunshine into the duchess, much like how zip and zug accidentally jammed a fire barge across the creek that one time.

“the fog rolls in like a new carpet” if i write a book, remind me to steal that.

top hat is the funniest part of this whole damn show. that’s not saying much, but hey. i’ll give him some credit

sunshine is described as having “a lump in her throat”, which raises a lot of horrifying questions (okay i’ll try to lay off the body horror jokes now, even i can tell that they’re probably getting repetitive)

[zwiezraczek]

Could you do a Ben fic where him and reader are going through a divorce after being together since they were like 15 and married for like 6 years or something but the divorce is quite messy like all angsty but reader ends up breaking down and crying to him because they still love eachother and you can decide the ending on whether they get back together or go through with the divorce :)

We Were Too Young [Request]

 Note: I'm currently living for the angst. This ask was absolutely great and challenging! I tried to not make it too angsty but I don't really know if I succeeded haha ^^" I hope you'll enjoy it 💕

Your relationship was jinxed since the very beginning. People had told both of you that you were too young, too inexperienced, too infatuated to make it last. They were probably right.

At fifteen, you had everything with Ben. You recalled it while sipping a glass of wine on your kitchen floor, all alone on the tiles. You still remembered being the high-school sweetharts in the yearbook, every-fucking-year. You had your picture printed on the special page, you sitting on his lap happily as he had his arm around your waist. The yearbook was under your bed now, hidden in a cardboard-box. It was everything that was left from high-school and the years you had spent together: memories. Memories of the play Ben had been in and you sat in front row and he winked at you and you fell in love with this cute drama-boy at fifteen. Soon after, he became your boyfriend. You still had the small paper that made it to you during chemistry class with two small boxes to tick, it was lovely and once framed on your nightstand. You used to look at it every morning for the past ten years. Now, it's at Ben's place, or even in the trash. Or the beautiful pictures you had on the walls, the polaroids you took thanks to your friend on that gingham blanket with flowers in both of your hair, the pictures you printed from evenings you spent together and parties you've been at, the red carpets and the after-parties hanging on the fairy lights. All gone, you wouldn't ask him what he had done with these since you left. You just wished you could erase all of these memories.

You married him when you were only twenty, he was your first love and you were his. Your love was all against the odds and against everything Ben should have been as an actor. He was young, beautiful and had a wife, you were the dark spot on his beautiful resume. He never minded this, he loved you more than everything and told you that no matter what he was proud of having you as his wife, by his side. And then Eastanders came. For three years you were here without being with him. Luckily, you still had your job to keep you busy and friends, otherwise you would sink into something you didn't want to – and were currently sinking into. They tricked him into some public relationship with his co-star, and both of you hated that deeply. He wasn't allowed to show you, and when he finally freed himself from there it was hard for you to step up. But you made it, you made it and you relationship grew stronger, or weaker as you noticed now. You got used to the distance and the long calls, you got used to not seeing your husband that much, you got used to women being around him, you got used to all of this.

He made great friends on the way that became yours too, you loved Oscar Isaac and called him often, Lucy Boynton quickly became one of your best friends and Gwil was an adorable block, and his wife too. Ben had Joe as a colleague-friend, and his friends from high-school, and you loved all these people the same. But the wider the circle, the longer the distance.

A distance that made you think about divorce. At first, it was just an idea, but then it became clearer when Ben came back home for three days before going back to film another movie or on a press tour, you refused to leave your job for sanity's sake and he couldn't drop his dreams for your pleasure only. Then, you noticed the fights, the cries and the shouting occurring more often when he was home, the times you didn't bother to wait for him to eat, the moments he didn't bother to call you to tell you that he wouldn't be back home early. You were hurting yourselves and you weren't even sorry about it.

People told you that a love like yours would never last, and they were probably right. You took another glass of your red wine, the stain on your white shirt wasn't only wine, you were bleeding too.

~~~

You had planned to meet during the week, but the party you had to attend was earlier and you couldn't meet him earlier. So there you were, with your almost ex-husband looking at each other from across the room, not knowing how to act while surrounded by a bunch of people you knew. How awkward it was for you to look at him talking with these people, how awkward it felt to not be able to hold his hand while his arm was around your waist. You could almost hear his voice through the veil of conversation, not listening to the one you were currently in.

You tried to loosen up by drinking a bit more – way more than you should – but nothing seemed to help you: you just couldn't avoid his pearly green eyes as much as he couldn't avoid looking at you. And the moment you dreaded the most had come, your favorite song. The one you fell in love to during prom, when he kissed you. You couldn't forget the tune of it, and you also couldn't refuse Ben's hand when he offered it to you so you could slow dance, like you used to.

Together, you swayed, your head resting on his shoulder as the music grew louder and sadder, carrying all you once had together. You felt tears up in your eyes, the pearls beginning to roll down your face. You sniffed, and he pushed you back a little to have a better look at you, you noticed his glistening eyes.

“All of this because of this song,” you told him faking a smile through your tears.

“Yes, it still does trigger something in me too,” he admitted and looked away as you looked at him for a longer moment.

You missed him. You missed his smile in the morning and his messy hair, you missed his voice and his cuddles, you missed when he spoke about a new role or rehearsed in front of you. You missed him more than ever.

“I miss you,” you finally mumbled and rested your head on his shoulder again as he pulled you a bit closer.

“I miss you too, y/n, I miss you a lot. But we know how all of this will end, we know that whatever we say now it won't repair what we broke.”

“We broke a lot of things,” you whispered. “You broke everything we had, if just for a moment we were more mature, if we had the guts to speak about what we felt... If I had the guts to tell you how much it pissed me off to see you this far from me...”

“If I had the guts to stop all of this madness,” Ben continued as his hands wandered on your back, “if I could go back in time to stop all of the errors I made, sacrificing our relationship over my career, I would, believe me.”

“Why are we realizing it now Ben, now that we know we won't ever be together, even if,” you stumbled on your words, “we love each other?”

“I wish we could have seen it sooner, but I think that our love was fated to fail,” he sadly said and you felt a tear falling on the top of your head. “We gave up to the pressure we created, we cut everything off...”

“We were too young,” you finally stated and hugged him even more. “We had everything and... We lost it all.”

“This is why we're splitting, love,” he whispering and you felt your knees becoming weak as he called you by your pet name.

“You're right,” you said and looked up at him, “we weren't made for each other. We thought we were, we loved each other, we love each other but... Something doesn't click, because me and you is all I've ever known, that's probably the reason. We know nothing about relationships.”

“You were my best first relationship y/n,” he said and kissed your forehead tenderly.

“You weren't that bad either,” you replied with a soft smile.

He pulled you closer for a moment, and you thought that even if you weren't destined to be together, fate had linked you somehow, by hurting each other and discovering yourselves.

~~~

It has been two years since you had seen his face in person. You were right, you were too young to notice you had everything. Your divorce wasn't as messy as the beginning of the procedure, it still did hurt. Sometimes, before you fell asleep, you thought about him and googled him to find out that he was with another woman. You were thinking about this relationship, if it was fake or not and sighing. Benjamin Jones, your first love, your first husband and first ex. He really did collect the places in your heart after all these years. Red wine again on your shirt, divorce wasn't as messy, but your mind was. It was difficult to find your place in this world, without him, and you had to find a way to cope. Sadly, it didn't help and you blamed him for it, even though you still loved him deep down in your heart.

[sweets-r-cool]

Rainy Day Confessions (Bakugo x Reader)

This gives off low key crack vibes tbh- but also, you may be thinking i made the reader is weird but like- just awkward...? (at some point I was gonna title Manwhore but that would just give off the wrong vibes-) (Also I wrote this quite a while and i tried to edit it so it’s better but idk...)

In which you and Bakugo are walking home when it starts raining, leaving you both to run for an abandoned building for shelter. 

Today was a cloudy day. You knew neither of you brought an umbrella, seeing as the weather forecast said nothing about rain. At least, that's what Katsuki told you when you asked right outside your house that morning before heading to school.

"I hope it doesn't rain," you said noticing the way the clouds seemingly grew darker, and just as you said that, it began to drizzle. 

You were annoyed, you brought your blazer to school today, but Mina accidentally got it dirty trying to throw food at Kaminari but missed, she ended up taking it home to wash it since she felt bad- even despite when you told her it was fine over and over again. Now, not only were you going to freeze, but it was going to be awkward if your shirt became see-through.

"Dumbass," Bakugo remarked, as you both began to walk faster.

You squinted at him, offended, "What? It's not like I made it rain!" you pouted.

"Yeah, but you jinxed," he scoffed.

"Okay, sure, whatever." you scoffed back. The rain turned from it’s previous light drizzle to suddenly pouring.

You followed what little of Bakugo you could see from under your makeshift umbrella which was really just your school bag. You ran into the ash blonde’s back, nose first. You were about to complain, but then you realized you were now safe from the harsh drops of water that fell from the sky.

It was still cold,and you realized why, the place Bakugo led you to was an abandoned building. You wondered how long it had been there, not being able to entirely remember it on your usual route home.

You and Katsuki lived right across the street from each other and therefore went to and from school together, so if he somehow had a different route, it would make no sense whatsoever.

Either way, the place gave you the absolute creeps, along with chills, but it's not like you could tell Katsuki that, he'd just laugh and call you a coward or something like that.

You sighed. Why did you have to care about what he thought about you?

Oh right, it's because you had a crush on him, and have for a few years now.

Your cheeks burned a little thinking about it, but- why?! Why did you have to fall for your angry hedgehog of a childhood friend?! It could've been anyone, and that would be easier! Hell, Mineta- actually, no. Mineta could go die in a hole, you'd even rather die before falling for Mineta.

You shook your head, there was no point in thinking about all... that.

"You good, Brat?" Bakugo called over, you were still by the opening of the abandoned building, while he went in a little further, trying to escape the freezing weather as much as possible.

"U-Uh Yeah," you called back, looking out to the pouring rain, your arms were freezing without your blazer. Unlike Bakugo, your quirk had nothing to do with fire, let alone heat, you rubbed your hands up and down you arms in an attempt to gain heat.

"You idiot, get your ass over here, it’s colder at the entrance." Bakugo scoffed, clearly not realizing you knew that already.

In all honesty, you would've, if not for the fact you did not feel safe in this building. It was only because it was shady and possibly not structurally stable! You definitely did not believe in ghosts! That was definitely not it at all!

Besides, if Bakugo knew that you were scared of ghosts he'd think you were weird and probably a loser, and he’d mean it for real.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, about to make an excuse as to why you couldn't go in deeper, but you ended up being cut off when a hand grabbed you by the wrist, dragging you to the back wall of the building. You were about to complain, but were caught off before you got the chance to a second time. Once Katsuki’s slightly too big, but warm blazer was wrapped around you, you closed your mouth, flustered.

"Y-You hoe..." you trailed off, unable to make eye contact with the exponentially warmer ash blonde beside you as you took in the familiar scent of the blazer, wrapping it around you further.

"Brat-" Bakugo said, but you ended up interrupting him. After hearing the most grotesque mix of a groan and scream ever, followed by a long scratching sound, you flinched. Resulting in you tripping over your own feet and ended up landing on Bakugo.

Of course, his body build was strong enough to catch you, so instead of the two of you falling, he caught you by your wrist, pulling it up so you didn't fall. Once the top of your head hit his chin slightly, you looked up to apologize. When you did, however, you were far too flustered to speak when you realized just how close your faces were.

"Don't be. I fucking hate myself," he rasped, successfully confusing the hell out of your flustered mind, "It might be selfish, but I don't want to be 'just friends' anymore. I like you too much for that shit."

He leaned in.

Your face burned a dark red, by the time he was only one inch away from your lips, his eyes closing, you couldn't help but push him away after you got control of yourself.

You stood up only a foot away, your heart practically about to beat right out your chest. "I-I just-" you swallowed, and turned, "Bakugo, you manwhore!" you shouted absentmindedly and ran straight out into the rain.

You couldn't even feel or hear the freezing raindrops, or the coldness that bit at your skin. Just your heartbeat, along with a thousand thoughts you couldn't describe aloud without just screaming.

Bakugo watched your back retreating, running like he'd kill you if you stayed. 

He smirked to himself, and a confused Kirishima came out from the back room.

"You okay, bro?" he said, worried how Bakugo might lash out, "I didn't think L/n could even run like that." Kirishima really didn’t think you’d just run away like you did. Kirishima noticed the smirk on Bakugo’s face, suddenly more worried for his friend’s mental state.

"B-Bro," Kirishima wearily put a hand on his shoulders. Not only did the plan of scaring you not work, but you'd just completely and outright rejected Bakugo. Kirishima felt he might just have to possibly run for his own life in a similar style to you.

Bakugo shrugged Kirishima's hand off, aggressively but not angrily.

Bakugo wasn't mad for once. Actually, he was rather satisfied, had you let him kiss you, that would've been a different story.

He knew you, and that meant he was sure if you let him kiss you- or worse, kissed him back- you were probably pitying him because you didn't return his feelings or something.

It was probably ten minutes before Bakugo broke the silence between him and Kirishima, who was still terrified.

Kirishima flinched when Bakugo spoke up, "It's about time I find that dumbass." he said, walking off into the rain in the same direction as you.

~

You were probably gonna get sick, but you decided it was whatever. You’d just have to take a day or two off from school you supposed. You sat under a tree, now cold and wet from the rain, and the leaves did basically nothing to protect you from it. You hugged your knees, beginning to regret running away.

Why did you run away anyways?

It wasn't like you didn't want to kiss him- not that you really wanted to or anything though.

You groaned, pouting at your own idiocy.

You guessed it was just that the situation was... weird? Well, at least Bakugo was weird. Yeah, he confessed using cuss words, but still, he confessed. Ugh, you wanted to throw up, or maybe bury yourself in a hole, maybe you'd even be warmer that way. 

You buried you face into your knees, closing up the blank space with your arms so your face wasn't visible.

You sighed.

"Regretting stopping that kiss?"

"Kind of-" you paused, what?

Your head snapped to beside you, Bakugo had managed to find you. Granted it wasn’t like you ran miles away, but you still definitely got a block or (2) two away. Your cheeks burned a bright red, and suddenly it wasn’t so cold anymore.

Bakugo smirked, "So why did you?"

You flinched as he sat next to you, you looked away, your blush deepening.

You mumbled a few incoherent words before he was actually able to understand you, "I... I don't know. You were just being... weird.. and stuff, so I just did what happened on reflex," you said, barely able to know how or what to think anymore. Most of the time, when it came to fight or flight situations, you’d opt to fight, being friends with Katsuki since childhood; however, there were specific situations you’d choose flight. This was apparently one of them.

There was a moment of silence before Bakugo spoke again, "What kind of reflex is yelling Manwhore?”

"Wh- Well, you're the one who tried to kiss me!" you averted your eyes, your blush persistent.

"That's because I like you, dumbass," Bakugo deadpanned, not even trying to avoid your gaze or fidgeting, not seeming nervous at all.

"When you say it like that, I feel like... it's not even real. I mean I know you're not lying, it's just like... I don't know..." you sighed, "W-Well, a-anyways, I l-like you too, but-" you were cut off when Bakugo didn't give you anytime to react.

Simply crashing his lips on yours to shut you up, it seemed all he needed was for you to say you liked him back and that was it. Well, you supposed it was all he needed to hear.

You didn't pull away this time, simply pretending your face wasn't as hot as the surface of the sun, and kissed back, furrowing your eyebrows finding it hard to keep your mouth from smiling and your eyes from opening.

After a while, you parted, and he pulled you closer to lean on him, when your head hit his chest, you were actually glad to hear his rapid heart beat, meaning it wasn't just you who could barely handle this.

Everything felt warm, even the comfortable silence felt warm.

Too bad it was interrupted by your ash blonde hedgehog of a crush.

"I know you were scared in the abandoned building, Brat" he spoke.

The tics that formed on your forehead were almost visible, you pouted, turning your head a little to look up at him. "Tell anyone, and I'll bite your face off."

"I would like to see that happen," he responded, making you do a double take.

"Are you- Are you hitting on me?!" you asked, dumbfounded as he smirked. You leaned back on his chest, turning your gaze to the side, "You really are a manwhore..."

[spiderman-homecomeme]

off the record pt. 2

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

A/N: Hello friends!! Here is the second part to my enemies to lovers fic for spideychelle week!! I’m hoping to get this one done fairly quickly, so updates should be pretty regular! 

Enjoy 2.6k of Peter and MJ just fuckin hating eachother, passive-aggressive coffee talks, and pettiness!!

Read here or on AO3

-

It shouldn’t be this hard.

At least, in theory. 

Really, Michelle’s been through worse. 

Befriending—or at least pretending to—Peter Parker by joining him at his desk with two to-go cups of coffee should be easy—the keyword here being “should.”

But as she stands just outside the office entrance, Peter’s desk just in her line of sight, she begins to doubt her resilience. It’s a simple task: asking him to chat, offering him a cup of coffee. Something she would be comfortable asking any other coworker in an effort to gain insight on a particular subject. It’s a perfectly normal occurrence. 

So why in God’s name is the idea of sitting for longer than ten seconds with him making her legs suddenly feel as though they’re filled from hip to toe with lead? What the actual fuck is wrong with her? It’s not as if she’s worried he’ll say no—in fact, the thought hasn’t even crossed her mind until now. No one says no to free coffee. No, it’s more likely that she’s worried he’ll actually say yes and that she’ll have to spend time alone with him. The thought of actually talking to him for once is sickening. 

But, again, it’s for the greater good. For her. It’s in her best interest.  

Peter looks up as another one of their coworkers passes by with a wave, and he offers his signature, warm and homey smile that always makes her want to find the nearest trashcan and immediately vomit. Instead, she steels herself, and with a final, resolute nod, she accepts her fate, using her elbow to push through the door and into the main office. 

He doesn’t see her approach at first, or at least he pretends not to as he opens a file on his desk, rifling through the papers. Though, the look of surprise on his face—plus the way he almost drops the small stack in his hands—shows that she’s the last person he’d expected to see. “Oh, uh, hi. Michelle.” Like with the coworker from seconds before, his expression melts into a smile—albeit, a forced one. 

Wow.

“Hey…” She trails off, suddenly unsure of how the hell she’s supposed to be standing. “You.”

He squints, trying his best to keep the grin on his face as it falters slightly. “Hi,” he repeats, eyes darting down to the two cups in her hand then back up to her face.

And it’s nothing like she’d rehearsed—in her brain—earlier. Nothing at all. Why, all of a sudden, is it so hard to talk to this guy without wanting to just dump the coffee on his head and whack the folder right out of his hands? 

“Coffee?” She asks with an uncharacteristically sweet voice as she holds out one of the cups to him.

Peter lets out a quiet huff of an unsure laugh. “Um—” His gaze flits left and right. “Sure…” He trails off. 

Wordlessly, she hands him the cup, and she almost punches him right then and there when he not-so-subtly sniffs it before taking an overly cautious sip. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh, it’s good!” He speaks as if the idea that she didn’t poison his coffee is what the big shocker is. 

A muscle twitches in her jaw, and she tries to fight the way her lips want to twist into an angry frown. Of course it’s good. Michelle knows what she’s doing; she’s seen him taking the last bit of coffee in the lounge more than a dozen times, always pouring an obscene amount of milk and sugar into his mugs. 

Michelle’s not playing around; she’s here to make friends. 

Taking a sip of her own coffee to hide the anger threatening to boil over, she waits for him to speak. He hasn’t invited her to sit, and she’s not sure if she wants to be the one to initiate that particular part. She’s the one who brought the coffee. Now, the ball’s in his court. 

“Working hard?” She asks against her better judgement, and she doesn’t miss the flash of annoyance in Peter’s eyes behind his lopsided grin. 

“Obviously not as hard as you are,” he offers, an edge to his clearly forced enthusiasm, taking another drink of his coffee as he rocks back on his heels. “Heard Jameson loved the new article.”

God, she hates him so much.

“Of course he did,” she mutters under her breath. “It’s what the people want.”

God, he hates her so much.

A beat passes.

“Well thanks for the coffee—”

“Good talk—”

They both speak at the same time, both of them forcing a laugh at the jinx. His gaze holds hers for a moment, and once again, she feels that same urge to pour her hot coffee over his head, her stomach tangling in fiery knots at the brief exchange. 

Without another word, Michelle’s feet carry her away and to her own corner of the office. Unconsciously, she nearly slams her drink on her desk in her sour mood. She slumps into her chair, pulling her laptop out of her bag and occupying herself with pretending to open another word document. 

That certainly could have gone better. 

Really, how hard was it for him to be civil? She had been so kind as to bring him coffee. The least he could do is to try to make conversation without… well, without being himself. Her gaze darts up from behind the lid of her laptop, her eyes careful in watching him as he sits back in his chair, covering his face with one hand before he cards the other through his hair before it clenches into a fist on top of his desk. 

Truly, in that moment, as she continues to unconsciously watch him from across the office, she realizes that as difficult as he’s going to make this, she can’t let it stop her. No matter how much of an annoying pain-in-the-ass he is, she has to remember why she’s doing this. 

She sees him smile at another of their coworkers as they pass by before taking another tentative sip of his coffee, his eyes flitting upward as he lowers his cup.

Her chest seizes when in that split-second, his gaze meets hers as he catches her staring, and she almost gives herself whiplash with how fast she tears away, her face burning hot. 

--

After the disaster of yesterday’s impromptu coffee get-together, Michelle knows that if she wants any part of this to actually go off without a hitch, she’s going to have to change her approach. She comes into the office that morning, a brand new plan having been brewing in her mind since the previous evening, when—

“You wanna go get coffee with me?” 

Truly, she’s not sure she’s ever been more shocked and surprised at the sight of someone at her desk. Peter’s standing there, his hands buried in his pockets, shoulders held high and tight as his brows pull together in what she offhandedly thinks looks like something akin to constipation.

He seems to have beaten her to the punch. 

Perhaps her little stunt yesterday paid off.

“What?” She finds herself asking, voice acting on its own accord. 

“Do you wanna—” He coughs into a fist, clearing his throat. “Go get coffee with me?” He throws a firm thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a place down the street.” 

A beat. 

“Sure.”

In fact, Peter’s just as surprised as she is, his eyebrows darting upward for a fraction of a second before he seems to collect himself. “Great,” he responds with a tight-lipped, thin smile. When she’d come to his desk yesterday, two coffees in hand, he’d taken it as a good sign—of course, after the initial fear that she might have been poisoning him. It had been, for that moment, something that he could see becoming easier between them. But then, after she’d made that snide comment about—about whatever hell it was—he’d quickly fallen back into the same, heartburn-inducing hatred. 

It was then that he knew he had to change tactics. 

They wait for their combined lunch hours before they head out, walking in deafeningly loud silence together through the halls and out into the city streets. One of his knuckles brushes hers as they walk, and she mentally reminds herself to burn that hand later as she yanks it away. At the brief, fleeting touch, he shoves his hands into his pockets, his eyes trained ahead on the sidewalk. 

The small coffee shop is warm and inviting, though Michelle finds it to be almost too warm under her jacket as they order their drinks and settle into one of the corner booths. He orders a caramel mocha, and she wants to scoff. A kid’s drink, she thinks offhandedly, not stopping to consider the frivolity of being annoyed at someone’s drink order—one that happens to be fairly common at that. 

“So…” Peter trails off, watching with pursed lips as she stirs cinnamon into her cappuccino. 

He clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck as he glances around the coffee shop, almost as if he’s looking for a way out, perhaps an emergency exit. His leg bounces furiously under the table, every so often his heel tapping against the dark wood floors below, a sound that Michelle has to actively ignore in order not to just get up and leave. 

Peter stares down into his coffee—well, more like a pile of whipped cream—for a moment, lips pursing in thought as he swirls the mug in his hand. 

It’s easy to see how hard he’s thinking, and for some reason, Michelle finds herself strangely pleased at this; there’s a hint of satisfaction at the fact that it's taking him so long to say anything at all. 

But then, it becomes infuriating that he doesn’t even try to continue his initial thought. He can at least try, she thinks.

She decides, in a brief moment of what she can only assume is pity, to put him out of his misery. “It’s funny that you asked to get coffee today,” she starts, setting the wooden stirring stick to the side before taking a sip of her drink. “I was planning on asking you.”

He does seem surprised at that. “Huh. Really?”

With a hum, she sits back against the leather seat. “Really.” She briefly glances down to her clasped hands in her lap, knowing that they were now officially entering the first phase of her plan. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something—or I guess ask about… something.”

Something flashes across his face that she can’t immediately identify, and she unconsciously feels herself stiffen at the unknown expression. 

“Really?” He asks again, quirking a curious brow as he takes a long sip of his mocha. 

The corner of her lip twitches ever-so-slightly before she boldly leans forward on the table, bracing herself on her forearms. “I was wanting to ask if you could help me with an article I’m working on.”

At that, he freezes, eyes darting up to hers. He swallows slowly, and she doesn’t miss the hint of annoyance that tints his expression as he sets his mug down with a dull thud. “What kind of article?” 

As much as she wants to call him out for swan diving into a pit of hasty conclusions, she refrains. “About Spider-Man.” He bristles, jaw setting, but she doesn’t let him speak. She leans in even further, voice hushed. “The truth, this time. I’m tired of writing all this bullshit about how terrible he is. I’m done. I want the world to know who Spidey really is.”

Her words come out so earnestly, she almost believes herself. 

But it’s not like she’s completely lying. There’s truth in that particular corner of the web. 

“Really?”

It takes everything in her not to mock the question he’s asked three times already.

“Really.”

And for the first time, she sees the beginnings of a genuine—somehow, relieved—half-smile tug at the corner of Peter’s mouth. Though, his fleeting, happy expression is gone as he seems to remember himself, sitting back in his side of the booth. 

Peter, of course, is shocked that she’s the one to bring up stopping the libel in the first place. This hadn’t been part of his plan in the slightest. But, as hopeful�� and relieved he is that this may be easier than he thought, he doesn’t want to let his guard down too quickly. He maintains a thoughtful expression, making sure not to seem too eager in his response. 

Michelle can see him weighing his options, can almost hear the near-rusted wheels turning as he tilts his head from side-to-side. He folds his arms across his chest, and her eyes are immediately drawn to his exposed forearms as they flex briefly. 

“What do you think?” She hastily spits out, mentally kicking herself. 

“I mean—” He starts, cutting himself off as he brings a hand to rub thoughtfully at his jaw, his tone casual. “I think it’s a great idea. Spidey, uh—he’d be happy about it. Though, not that your articles really have that much of an effect on him now, he doesn’t really care enough—”

She can feel her eye twitch, though he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Not sure if Jameson would be super happy about it, though,” Peter reasons, shrugging apologetically. 

She forces her twisting lips into a neutral expression. “Who says I plan on telling him?”

Sure, that’s a bold-faced lie—she plans on telling Jameson as soon as she can to get the green light—but that’s unimportant.

Peter cocks his head to the side, squinting slightly. “You sure something like that would even do well?” 

“Think about it,” Michelle answers easily. “A news site that’s been constantly dragging Spider-Man down suddenly having a change of heart after a thorough expose on what he does for New York, painting him as the true hero that the city needs, showing the citizens who he is?”

He nods slowly as she speaks, biting back the winning smile desperately wanting to show. 

But that expression only comes across as smug to Michelle, and she clenches her fist underneath the table before digging her nails into her leg. 

“I’m in,” Peter says after a beat. He leans forward on the table, his hands clasping together. “What do you need from me?”

“Well, first, I’d like to interview you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You.”

“Why me?”

She gives him a pointed, deadpan stare. “You’re his photographer aren’t you? And you seem to know him pretty well.”

“I mean, not that well—”

A beat passes. 

She blinks. 

“Okay, fine. Yeah,” Peter concedes. “You can interview me. What else?”

A smirk tugs at her lips. 

“I’d like an interview with Spider-Man.”

At that, he blanches, and for a split-second, there’s a tugging dread in Michelle’s gut that she’s gone too far with that one request, but it’s instantly smothered as she waits for him to respond. 

Peter stares at her, mouth parted in slight surprise. Really, he knows he should have seen this coming; writing an article all about Spider-Man and the things he does for this city, of course she’d want an interview with him. And although he feels as if he’s already succeeded in his plan, he knows that this isn’t a one-way street, that in order for him to really win, he has to give her this one thing. 

Though, his main worry stems from knowing that as an excellent investigative journalist, Michelle’s observation skills are nothing to joke about. How she’d be able interview the two of them—Peter Parker and Spider-Man—and not immediately connect the dots, he’s not sure. 

“I know he’s busy, but—” Michelle cuts in again. “I think it’d be really great to get exact quotes from the guy himself.”

Peter looks right back at her, contemplating. The corner of his lip twitches upward into a small, wry grin as he huffs, glancing to the side before meeting her gaze again. 

He figures that’s just a chance he’s going to have to take.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

[nyjinxliterotica]

Limo Kissing Cousins

 The phone rings.

“Bill, I need your help!” pleaded a familiar voice.

“Steph? What’s the matter, cuz?”

“I need help with picking out the limos for the wedding and Tim is away on business,” Stephanie exclaims. “Could you come with me to the appointment in 30 min? Sorry for the last minute notice, but I don’t want to go by myself and well, you know your cars.”

“Of course, I will. I’ll pick you up in ten.”

You couldn’t wait to help her and your cock was getting hard just thinking about her sitting next to you in your truck.

You drive up to her house and there she is, wearing a short black mini dress, strapless with a short white denim jacket and black heels. She looked stunning as usual.

She hops in your truck and places her warm hand on your cheek, leans over and gives you a kiss on the cheek. Her tits bulging out of the top of her dress.

“We’re using All American Limousine on Foster. Do you know how to get there?”

“I do,” you answer and head over to the place.

“You’re so sweet to do this for me, Bill. I knew I could count on you.” As she places her hand on your thigh as an affectionate gesture. You get all tingling as you are trying to imagine Carlos Rodon pitching a fastball.

You get up to the limo place, park in the lot, walk around and open the door to let Stephanie out, like the gentleman you are. She grabs your arm and walks with you up the path to the office.

I see you both walk in and greet you with a smile. Wearing a red and black wrap dress with red strappy heels, I greet, “Hello bride and groom to be! Welcome to All American!”

You and Stephanie both laugh and say, “Oh no we’re not a couple. We’re cousins.”

“I’m just helping out with the arrangements, while her fiancé is away,” you explain.

“Well aren’t you the sweet guy,” I say. “Okay, then both of you follow me.”

You follow me to the back office, where I point to a couch for you to sit and I move to my desk.

I take out a thick portfolio of limos and party buses. As I begin to ask her questions about the wedding party size and other details. And she excitingly tells me all the plans.

I can’t help but notice you looking down her top as she spoke, and looking at her pouty red lipstick mouth. I was getting flushed and horny just imagining your mouth kissing her neck down to her bulging tits and sucking on her nipples with your hand up her skirt squeezing her thong-peeking ass cheeks.

“Should I fill out some paperwork or something?” she asks me suddenly and bringing me back to reality.“Uh, yes, I think we have what you are looking for. How about you come follow me to the yard to look at the selection.”

“Do you have a preference?” I ask. “We have our line of Lincoln MKT stretches, 70, 80 and 120 and party buses or our Mercedes fleet, but they don’t include party or sprinter buses.” Stephanie looks over to you with a confused look. “What do you think?”

“I definitely think you should go with the Lincolns since they have the party bus you need,” you recommend.

Stephanie follows behind me and you behind her and we walk to the outside.

I open the first white Lincoln MKT 120 stretch and slide inside, Stephanie follows and her skirt hikes up about an inch. She notices my looking and smiles shyly. “Whoops. Thank goodness my wedding dress is long, haha,” she says.

You slide in as well and Stephanie loses her balance and falls onto your lap. At this point, not only can I see your cock bulging out from your jeans, but Steph feels it on her leg. “Hey there now cousin!” she says jokingly.

I turn to her and whisper, “He’s too sexy, not to pretend he’s a very distant cousin.”

“Oh, I agree,” Stephanie admits softly in my ear. “Secretly, I’m always crushing on him a little, especially at family parties.”

Though she accidentally sat on your leg, to your surprise she decides not to move and stays right where she is.

I continue to talk about the inside features but neither you or Stephanie are paying attention.

I see her hand start caressing inside your thigh. You can’t believe what is happening.

And you can’t help but follow with your hand on her leg. And she responds by leaning back with her head on your shoulder and starts breathing in your ear. You feel her tongue come out and start nibbling.

I continue to show the halo, dome and console lighting, and ice storage compartments but watching you two have got me a mess. 

Stephanie reaches her hand out to me and I slide over to you both now, kneeling in front of you and her on top of you. I can just see her panties showing under the skirt of her dress as you continue to feel up her thigh. Moving her dress to her waist.

I rub my hand up your jeans and start opening them. Your cock is rock hard. Stephanie is sucking at your ear now and her hand is under your shirt, rubbing your chest, pinching at your hard nipples. Your hand makes its way up her dress and you grope at her tits, which are now busting out of the heart cut top of the dress.

Now with your cock spearing up from your jeans, I move in closer and start licking it. Moaning as I do so. Stephanie looks down and sees me and slides lower off your leg. Her on one side of you, me on the other. Your cock in my mouth, deep. Then I take it out and Stephanie latches on and takes you deep too. We take turns sharing your hard, glistening dick, back and forth. Then in unison, we both pull your jeans off.

As we are kneeling in front of you, facing each other, our tongues start licking all around. Flicking at your balls. We split those – Steph has your left, I have your right cupping them in our mouths and then back to licking your shaft up and down.

Pre-cum seeping out. You’re trying so hard not to cum but you could at any moment. Then as we are busy sharing your cock with our tongues, they touch and we start making out, right over your cock. Your one hand in her hair and the other entangled in mine. I’m stroking you and she moves her hand up to your mouth for you to suck on her beautifully polished fingers. My other hand is playing with her gorgeous breasts that are now completely out of her dress top.

You then take her hand from your mouth and grab down at her tiny waist to pull her back up onto your lap. I pull off her pink silk panties and position your cock to fit inside her. Her feet are on the limo floor for leverage. She moves up and down on you. Her pussy right in front of my face. I can’t help but start licking her smooth wet pussy lips that are wrapped around your cock. Moving up and down on your lap. You can feel her tight ass rubbing on your belly.  You grab her tits and feel and squeeze them hard, pinching her nipples as she just did to you.

I take my fingers and wipe off some of her cum seeping out of your cock and you feel my hands reach under your balls. My two fingers enter your ass and start finger fucking you hard and fast, as Stephanie rides your cock and I lap up at her wet, cock-filled pussy.

Your cock is throbbing hard and you’re about to explode your load. You pull Stephanie off your cock by grabbing her ass and you cum shooting all up on her tits. Being the cum hungry slut I am, I quickly move up to start licking your cum off her chest and hear her “mmmmmmm” as I do so.

She turns to you and kisses you on your mouth and says “you’ve always been my favorite relative, Bill.”

Copyright © 2017 NY Jinx All rights reserved

[just-some-random-blogger]

Autumn

NCT Jaehyun x Reader & Jungwoo x Reader Characters: Jung Jaehyun, Kim Jungwoo, OlderBrother!Johnny Seo, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (Ten), & mentions of Lee Taeyong Summary: Your brother Johnny warned you about the men in this world time and time again. Surely, if he was still with you, he'd already broken your husband, Jaehyun's nose by now for how badly he had been treating you. At this point, you're unsure whether or not you want the interest your spouse is giving you after meeting his unbeknowst rival, Jungwoo. Warnings: Infidelity, unhappy marriage, bad relationships, angst, smut if you squint, etc. Words: 5k+

Part two: Spring

■●■

I kissed him again, with all the ice in my body slipping away. I kissed him as if he was the medicine I needed. I kissed him as if, if I stopped, so would the fierce beating of my crazed heart.

Was it wrong?

Dreathly, drasically wrong it was.

He tasted like all the coffee I detested to the core, and the candy I always gave away; how could it be even remotely good? How did I fool myself into thinking such looniness could even be probable?

The snow beneath my tired, folded knees, frosting my denim pants, chilling my bones, was nothing compared to the heat he radiated. My icy fingers were on his cheeks and his arms were wrapped around me.

It was when he deepened the kiss I finally realized how much muck I jumped into. It was then I paid attention to the blaring sounds at he back of my mind. It was finally then I pulled myself away and pushed him off me.

He fell out of balance, from his squatting position; his bottom found the snow covered floor. He seemed betrayed for that half second. I heaved in deeply thinking of what I had just allowed myself to do, what I had been allowing myself to do

The snowflakes floating down to the mocha colored hair that framed his face brought tears to my eyes. I bit my lower lip tightly and covered my mouth, pathetically hoping it would cut off my sobs. His lips were swollen due to our share of unlawfulness. His face was marked with worry.

"Wha--" "Stop!" I said, broken.

With a huff, I scrambled to my feet, violently brushing away the snow stuck on my clothes. If I had longer legs and was less ungraceful, then maybe he wouldn't have caught me. If I hadn't tried to tell him I no longer desired to keep his company in the middle of November, then I wouldn't have slipped on ice. If I hadn't been meeting with him in the first place, I wouldn't be here. If he hadn't greeted me so kind-- If my husband just paid more atten-- "Stop running away from me!" he called as I stomped away from him.

"Please." he said, finally rising from where he was. I hurried and moved with all I had in me.

He shouted my name so loudly, I had to stop and turn back to him.

"Quiet! Please! Someone will hear! Just- just go back to your life and forget this ever happened!" I hitched out with hot tears turning cold as they descended down my cheeks.

"I'll fight for you." I sighed bowed my head in defeat, "No-" "I will fight for you!" he said once more, charging towards me, hands on by neck, thumbs wiping my cheeks. "I'll take you away. I'll save you from him. He'll never hur--" "I still love him, Jungwoo."

Kim Jungwoo was not a kind man. He had no patience for anyone, and he was easily bored. At least that's what I heard from everyone. Never had Kim Jungwoo shown he was any of these things in the three months I've known him. Never had he shown cruelty, never had he rushed me, and he had nothing but interest in the nothingness I had to offer him.

People say that's how love can change you. True love is the only magic in the world.

Perhaps that was the same reason why everyone said Jaehyun really loved me. Because "he's an entirely different person around his wife, I'm telling you. I've never seen anything as peculiar."

But if he treated me different from all the other people in the world, then how was I so sure he was at all real?

Jungwoo's face fell, so did his hands that were on me.

I forced a laugh out of me as my cries intensified. I was laughing at my patheticness. I sniffled and wiped my runny nose with the back of my hand.

"Then," his lip quivered and his voice cracked, "is everything we have a lie?"

I turned away and let out an ugly sound. I didn't want to reply, but the fire he put within me wasn't having any of it. "My time with you has been the truest thing I've felt in a long time."

"Then why---"

"That's why..." I shook my head profusely, "I can't."

I walked backward and wiped my eyes, "I'm sorry."

I turned about and ran away.

Jungwoo called for me. He screamed my name. He screamed at the top of his lungs, begging me to stop... and that he loved me, so, so much.

I quickly started the engine of my car and drove away before the running man got to me.

The radio was on a deafening volume and yet I could not at all pay attention to it. I made sure I drove fast, but not enough that I would kill myself. Johnny forbid that I kill myself the same way. I felt my stomach churn at the thought of my older brother. Johnny, he always said the guys that liked me were nothing but trouble. He even said once I should marry someone that didn't like me, so that by the time he did, my jinx would be broken. Funny that it happened the other way around in reality.

Jaehyun was crazy for me; he used to be so in love with everything I did. And now... now he sometimes forgets that there's more than his shadow that lives with him.

I honked at nothing in front of my car.

Why did Johnny have to get himself in a car accident, huh? If my dumb brother hadn't- if he hadn't, then-then... then...

Then what?

Would've anything changed?

This is all my fault.

No one else it to blame but myself.

The massive gates from afar were slowly opening at my command. I hadn't realized that I was already pulling up in front of my home. My face twitched. My home, and yet all it was was an empty mansion.

I got out and shut my car, rubbing my hands as I jogged towards the front door.

I went inside and made my way to my bedroom, into the walk in closet that held my excessive clothing. I wiped my face roughly with my hands one last time and yanked my silver suit case towards me, stuffing everything within arms reach, as much as I could fit.

Thank heavens, Jaehyun stayed out late constantly. I'll only have to leave a no-- "Sweetheart?"

My blood went still.

"Sweetheart, are you here?"

My brows raised. I started hyperventilating. I quickened my movements and zipped up my full bag.

"Sweetheart, you wouldn't believe what happened to me today. Taeyong did the funni--" Jaehyun's words died down. I stood up quickly before he stopped. I could evidently feel the pulse in my neck. Jaehyun's face was expressionless. His lips twitched a fraction of a fraction. His torso was pale and toned, and the grip on the side of his towel tightened. His chestnut brown hair was damp and his arms still had droplets of water. I chewed the inside of my lip, he wouldn't possibly run after me in this weather, in this state, freshly showered, with only a towel hung on his hips.

Why? Why did he HAVE to come home early tonight!?

I gripped the handle of my case and stepped forward. In sync, Jaehyun side stepped in front of me, "What are you... where are you going?"

I felt tears well in my eyes and I held my breath. "Away."

With that I pushed him to the side and sprang for the door, dragging my silver coffin behind me with the loudest of noises.

I tread uneasily down the wooden floors, thudding across the empty halls that smelled strongly of the man who owned them.

"Sweetheart!"

I ran down the stairs as quickly as I could, slipping on a step, nearly face planting if my hand hadn't caught the railing. Johnny's voice blared in my mind, calling me Soggy Noddles and a curse word that wasn't even a real one. I huffed and continued on my way, panicking as I heard Jaehyun approach. It was terrifying how he was so swift. I had only felt that I got away, but suddenly, like a blur, he was latched onto my luggage. "STOP!"

I grunt and whipped my head to the man still only in a towel.

"I don't-  please, just talk to me!" Jaehyun begged, pulling with so much force, he nearly caught my arm. I gasped and let go of my bag, sending him rolling back. My heavy cargo landed on his stomach, pulling a whine from him as he landed on his bare back. My brows spiked up in concern, and my lips betrayed me by asking if he was alright.

Upon realizing my mistake, I shook my head and ran away. I thanked everything that was good that my car key and wallet were in my pockets. I bust out of my front door and quickly jumped into my car. I pressed the remote that was in my compartment and opened up the gates.

"Now's really not the time for you to do this," I argued with the engine that struggled to start. "FUCK! I knew I should've left it open!"

And literally the moment, the engine came alive, and Jaehyun was outside the door of my car. My heart was pounding. He banged on the window as I started moving away. The exposed psycho called my name and begged me to come out.

I ignored him with a heavy heart and was ready to drive out of this place. The gates were already wide open. "Sweetheart, listen to me. Whatever I did wrong, I can fix it! Please just stay with me."

My heart felt like it was being crushed by his hands. It was my mistake that I looked over my shoulder and dared to see his face. He was blue, shivering; he looked like a ghost. My eyes widened, "GO BACK INSIDE, JAEHYUN!"

"NOT IF YOU DON'T COME WITH ME!"

I cried, "It's impossible!" I drove forward, thinking if I leave now, he'll have no choice but to go back in. My heart leaped in my throat when suddenly a body dropped onto the hood of the car.

His fists banged on the windshield, "Please!" he shouted with all the steam left in him. He visibly quaked afterward.

My heart raced. I ran out of the driver's seat and removed my coat, putting it over Jaehyun as I grabbed on his icy arm, pulling it over my shoulders, bringing him back into the warmth inside.

I guided him onto our sofa and ran to the bedroom, getting a comforter, blankets, and some thick clothes for him to wear. I ran back to him and quickly wrapped him in warmth. "Put these on, I'll make some coffee for you."

I dashed into the kitchen and prepared a cup for him. As the water heated, I shrieked at the cold that enveloped me. "Why are you leaving me?" Jaehyun's voice shuddered as he hugged me from behind.

I shook him off and whined at his bare body, "How could you not put on the clothes I gave you, Jaehyun?" I grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to the couch. "I won't take care of you, if you don't get dressed."

He looked at me as I walked back to prepare his hot beverage.

I came back to a fully clothed Jaehyun with a cup of wildly aromatic coffee, indicating it was quite strong.

"Drink this."

"What did I do?"

I huffed, pushing the cup closer to him. Tears pricked in the corner of my eyes. He got the object from me and set it aside on the coffee table in front of him. He glided to the side, moving on the part of the couch that was directly in front of me. His cold hands caught my warm ones, causing a shiver run up my spine.

"Not you. It's what I did, Jaehyun."

His eyes were glassy, "Sweetheart, you could never do an--"

"I had an affair with Jungwoo."

A single tear fell from his eyes, and his hands quickly pulled away from me.

My chest felt heavy. I scoffed at myself, "For three months, I've been meeting your rival behind your back."

His face contorted only to fall blank again.

"While I loved you, he was loving me. And when you were loving me... I still loved him."

It was in his silence I knew he wanted to throw me away. I wanted to throw me away. I don't want to cause him the trouble of having to go through it, so I started walking away. Once I had my back to him, he choked out six words that nearly made me crumble, "It never happened, don't go."

I stopped in my tracks, heart pounding, palms sweaty, and bit my lower lip, so hard I started tasting rust.

Jaehyun was breaking down behind me, I could tell, even through this thick silence between us.

I clenched my fists and released it. I replied in the same manner. "I'm sorry, but it did."

------×××

"Mr. Jung," my father shook my husband's hand. Jaehyun bowed in respect. Once they broke away, I smiled at my father and gave him a hug. "Child, you've lost weight."

"I've been exercising lately. I won't get any more modeling gigs if all I keep going is eat around the house."

He gave a forced sounding chuckle, "You look beautiful in anyway, my child."

"Thank you, father."

We walked off with our arms linked to greet some other guests for tonight. It was quite an event, as it was my father's company's anniversary, a celebration for the merging of my father's and Jaehyun's company, and my older brother's first year memorial.

"Your father still hates my guts."

"That's not true."

"He still calls me Mr. Jung, sweetheart."

"He only does that when other people can hear, Jaehyun."

He hummed, "Right. He calls me bastard behind closed doors."

I nudged him and knit my brows deeply, as he offered a mischievous dimpled smile.

"FYI, he started calling you by your name." I spoke.

He laughed, "Jaehyun-trash I bet."

My brows shot up, "Did you hear him? Aish, that loud, old man."

Jaehyun laughed. "Aww, at least he knows my name."

We were called by an old friend of my father that was recently retried. He and I talked about the latest cover I was on, how he still had the advertisement photo I did for his company when I was younger, how long my legs are, how long brother's were, and how my father almost killed Johnny for buying Motorbike, which was the name of a Newfoundland puppy, who in present became my father's most loyal companion. Jaehyun slipped away to talk about cricket with a former classmate, and not long after, the former chairman was approached by a young man. We continued about our conversation for a while.

"Ah, where are my manners? I'd like to introduce you to this bright young man, Kim Jungwoo. He's my cousin's apprentice, but he's far more diligent and handsome."

The said man gave a half smile and nodded, extending an arm to me. "I'm sorry for your loss, miss."

I shook the offered hand in the same manner, and thanked him.

"I see my wife is calling me," the old man chuckled, "say a short prayer for me, children. I'll leave you two at it."

We both bid him a goodbye.

"Did you taste the cake? It was my brother's favorite flavor."

Jungwoo tilted his head to the side and chuckled, "Cake is always good. But aren't you going to ask me how I know Chairman?"

I shrugged, "Why? Are you his clone?"

"No."

"Well, then it probably makes no difference."

We continued our conversation like this, blunt but never rude. It was like cool drink on a hot day. And throughout, his eyes sparkled in such a pleasant way. He looked so sweet, and quite clever, especially in his suit. He had the softest smile and the sweetest of voices. It seemed like a dream in this saturated place. He reminded me of Johnny, or Jaehyun... though they weren't like the other, nor was Jungwoo like them at all.

And yet I was quite taken with the familiar unfamiliarity as we talked in what seemed like ages. There were moments were his cheeks blushed at my words and to that I only knit my brows infinitesimally.

He went his way because he had recieved a call. He left after asking if he could see me again and continue our chat about roosters. I thought nothing much of it, so I agreed and we exchanged numbers.

The night went on as per usual.

------×××

It was around two weeks after we started hanging out that I realized Jungwoo was Jaehyun's rival in a way that could've been much better.

We were at yet another party, only this time, Jungwoo did not get me alone. Yes, at first we continued the unfinished conversation we had at the library, for I had just finished a photoshoot there and he had happened to come around. But soon after my husband joined my side, I was faced with a fact I did not know.

Jaehyun smiled, unlike the way he did when I brought him a vase of sunflowers for his office, nor the way he did when he saw me from the end of the hallway of his office with a lunch bag. He smiled the way he did with a former chairman he fired for misconduct, and the way he did when he first met my brother---forced, all teeth and no eyes.

"I see you've met my wife."

For the first time, I saw Jungwoo's constantly soft expression harden. "Actually, we met last time at her father's house."

"Her father invited you?" Jaehyun croaked.

Jungwoo's lips barely curved upward but it was still something I noticed, "He said he wanted to see how you'd react, but you were too preoccupied with your own affairs."

I turned to Jaehyun, eyebrows meeting each other in confusion. Before I could speak, Jungwoo beat me to it, "Well, it was nice catching up with you." he spoke to me and then nodded to my husband, "Jaehyun."

"Do you know who he is?"

"... Kim Jungwoo?"

Jaehyun screwed his eyes shut, visibly annoyed, "No. I mean, who he is to me."

I blinked, "I... is he an old classmate? Or..." I huffed, "Jaehyun, just tell me."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "He's the CEO of the company that almost got me bankrupt."

My eyes widened.

------×××

"Why didn't you tell me the second you found out?!"

"Because darling," Jungwoo chuckled, sipping on his coffee, "I did my resesrch on you the second we finished our conversation, and you would've stopped hanging out with me. It was only our first date."

"It wasn't a date! And how are you so sure I would have?"

"The same way I'm sure you won't stop hanging out with me now, even though your husband will be driven mad."

I chuckled out a scoff, "Now you're overestimating your worth against my husband's."

Jungwoo leaned it, lulling out in the softest way possible, "Darling..."

I gulped.

"With how open you got with me in such a short time, I doubt stopping suddenly will be an option for you. Besides, I won't allow it."

I raised my brows in offence at his tone. I was about to tell him off, but he spoke before I could. "...because I have gotten much too close to you in this same short time."

------×××

Yes, I know I shouldn't have, and should have proved Jungwoo's words wrong, but I... I found myself unable to, and so I did, very much keep meeting with him.

And more and more my perfect wife façade kept pulling apart in the seams.

I found it painfully easy, therapeutic even, to talk about my martial distresses with this man, who knew nothing but outside knowledge about the legal union of two people.

I told him small things at first. Things I thought at the time were too ridiculous to be a problem.

But it began to eat me away slowly.

The more Jungwoo pointed out my longling looks and prolonged sighs, the more gloomy my reality became. I could no longer deny the absence of my Jaehyun----how he would only ever thought of me when there was an event or when someone brought me up, how we would only ever get to eat meals outside our house because he hardly went home, how he only ever called me sweetheart and kissed my jaw.

I know. I know I shouldn't have, but could it be helped that when I called for Jaehyun, he didn't pick up? I wait for him every night, till I wear out on the couch. He would carry me to our cold bed, only to have me wake up by myself the next day to the same icy loneliness he left.

The slap that stung on my cheek was that of the bond Jaehyun and I lacked, a realization that it was not as small as I made myself believe is was.

I told myself for so long that it wasn't real, that I was making a vid deal out of nothing... but hearing myself talk to Jungwoo and seeing his reactions made me see differently.

Could it be helped then that my consciousness lead me to dial someone who always answered?

My heart leapt when he called me darling and when he said he would be right over.

Jungwoo came to me in a heart beat after hearing my lonesome slur.

I saw him face like a lost boat saw a lighthouse. He looked like an angel. Perhaps he was, as I was a demon in this plastic chair under this plastic tent.

But I didn't want a beautiful angel.

I wanted Jaehyun...

Even as Jungwoo gathered me in his arms, I called for Jaehyun. His eyes were saddened, but I still called.

I called him. I had picked up my phone and called for Jaehyun, and yet I here I was with somebody else. I called for Jaehyun first, a million times, and yet the second one I dialed in one try came around. I called Jaehyun first because I wanted him to-- I want him to be the one to get me. I called Jaehyun first beause always call Jaehyun. I always call him, on the phone, in my dreams.

I always want to talk to him. I always want to spend time with him. I always want to hear his voice. I always want to know how he's doing. I always want to know how he is. I mean, why wouldn't I when my heart yearned so much for him?

Yet I am not enough...? How am I not enough?

I always make lunch for Jaehyun. I always bend my time for Jaehyun. I always wait for Jaehyun. I always make sure Jaehyun is eating right and enough. I always make sure Jaehyun is sleeping right and enough. I always make sure Jaehyun does not do more than enough. I don't even do big projects anymore because I'd have to be away from Jaehyun, and I know he won't take care of himself. I know how he is with people---people, meaning everyone but me. He's an ice man with a hot temper. He bites just as much as he barks. And hates loose ends; he cuts off all of them.

But... but why won't he pick up?

Why am I reduced to drinking soju in a street food tent?

Why is this mess that I am being scooped up by not Jaehyun, but a man called Jungwoo?

I even asked him this-- Jungwoo, I mean. I asked him why my husband keeps forgetting that I feel, or that I exist altogether.

"Darling, he's a fucking moron." Jungwoo spat, driving with tense shoulders as I lazily looked out the window with the dark view of a misty Han river. "That scoundrel does not deserve you. No one should ever make you cry like this, especially not a man you found fit to marry."

He said many words in an attempt to soothe me. It didn't though, if anything my heart ache more.

"I want to be angry at him, Jungwoo. I want to beat him until he feels hurt outside the way I am inside... I don't have it in me though."

The man in the driver's seat beside me gripped the steering wheel, "I could do it for you." I whined, not even hearing the low growl Jungwoo uttered.

"I can't be angry--because I know he's working hard to prove his worth to my father."

I continued to wail.

Jungwoo stayed quiet.

"Is my love not enough for him? Does he need to please my father so much?"

"Darling--"

"Jungwoo... he won't even call me back."

------×××

I could not recall when, how, or why it started, Jungwoo's advances. I suppose perhaps it was always there and was simply something I overlooked as kindness or humor. I don't even know if there was anything that lead up to our grand fault. However, our fault I vivdly remember. The fault that was his warm hands on my thighs, his hot breath against my ear, our presipitation in close proximity and late night activities, the salt on his skin, the marks he left.

He kissed me and caressed the skin on my side. He drew together the constellations on my skin. He felt every part of me with every part of him. And we unabashedly moaned about our love to the on looking moon.

I knew it had to end there.

I knew I never should have allowed my haughty greed get the best of me.

And yet when Jaehyun greeted me after months of wordless slumber, I let him kiss me a day after Jungwoo. It let him pull me against his chest. I let him praise every inch of me. I welcomed his every desire.

And he was everything he was not.

Jaehyun felt right, felt oh so good, but empty.

Jungwoo felt wrong, felt oh so bad, but electric.

In my selfishness I was faced with the truth that I cannot, could not have both of them. And because of the knowledge my heart would gladly go to either of them, I hence should have none.

So now I lie to both of them in this small noodle shop.

I have cowered away from my mistake and yet it haunts me everyday in person.

I have hid myself from them for two years... and yet here they find me together in what became my safe haven in Dengu.

I hadn't realized they said my name, because it was no longer the name I had made myself regarded with.

I continued cooing to the child who had been laughing at the faces I had been pulling. She was so small, so bright eyed. Her small fingers latched around the locks of my hair. She looked so much like her father to me.

I spared a moment and turned around. My heart dropped.

"J-j... what are you doing here?"

"That depends," Jungwoo spoke breathlessly, "who are you talking to?"

"Is she...?" Jaehyun pointed at the baby in front of me.

I looked at the innocent baby girl, who pulled her hand that was holding onto my hair away. She had Jaehyun's eyes and Jungwoo's lips, but no, she looked like neither of the two men for she was neither's.

"Baby, where did you put the--" the man called with a voice of slight agitation. He  emerged from the kitchen, turned to me, then stopped in his tracks when he realized I was being stared at by two men. The baby turned to her father and whined a distunguishable "Appa."

The man went to his daughter and took her in his arms. I huffed and gathered all the strength in me to bring myself to stand up.

My mind was racing.

I had so much to say but at the same time had none at all. I wanted to stay silent, but I knew that was not an option for me, not anymore.

"Jaehyun, Jungwoo, this is Ten." I motioned to the man carrying the small child, "and Autumn."

"My daughter," Ten spoke up, narrow eyed and cautious, but somehow still friendly. "Nice to meet you. Say hi baby," the man spoke, grasping the child's tiny hand and waving it to them. Autumn could not care less however, opting to snuggle up against her dad's neck like she always did.

"Are you guys here to order in? We can whip you up a-"

Jungwoo spared no more time and turned around to walk away, exiting with a loud chime of door bells. If the door wasn't attached to a spring, it would've slammed shut.

Jaehyun looked at me. I realized in this moment I had never seen him cry, actually break down and cry, not even when I left him. Somehow, this hurt me even more. I wanted to comfort him, but I remained frozen. I lost any right to a long time ago anyway.

"Thank you, but, my friend and I--" he chuckled softly, turning to the ceiling, pausing to brush away a tear that fell from his eye. "We should be leaving."

I watched Jaehyun walk away. I watched him go to Jungwoo who roughly shrugged off the hand Jaehyun placed on his shoulder. I watched as they walked away, across the far end of the street, the only place they could park their car. They argued outside instead of just getting in and driving away, and I couldn't decide if that was worse.

"Alright. First of all," Ten suddenly piped up. "Bold of them to assume Autumn could be their child when you've been away for two years." The man knit his brows and turned to me. "Second of all, bold of them to assume you're her mother in the first place" he pursed his lips and clicked his tongue. "Third of all, bold of them to storm out before looking around and asking the right questions."

And on cue a loud siren like shout came through from a short-legged boy running towards me with a big grin on his face. "EOMMMMMAAAAAAaaaa, lwook. I fwoun a wock." he spoke in a loud voice, then in the smallest of voices. He proceeded to raise his hands up to me in order to show the smooth grey rock in them. I chuckled at the boy as he looked at me expectantly. I knowingly accepted the object and set it on the table.

Ten turned to my son, "Hey kid, look, it's your dad."

The boy's expression deflated as he blinked and turned to the direction Ten motioned at. He proceeded to turned to me curiously. I smiled softly and sat him down on the chair, pointing to one of the men at the end of the road. The on-looking boy placed his hands on the glass. "Appa?"

I chuckled and nodded, "Yes. Appa."

A figure of a woman then whooshed passed us, momentarily blacking the sight before our eyes. A woman holding a bag of bread came running in, dropping the things she bought on a vacant table.

"Was that--"

I nodded.

"The nerve and idiocy they had, baby, thinking our baby was theirs." Ten rolled his eyes as he told his wife, who ran to me and held my hand.

"In their defense, Ten, you came out of the kitchen, seeming like you were calling me your baby."

Ten pursed his lips, "Still. Bold of them to assume."

"How do you feel?" Ten's wife asked me.

I shrugged, "I think it's better like this. I hurt them a lot."

"Better for you! What about your him? Your son needs a father, and it seems he wants you back! Honestly, it looks like they both still do."

I sighed and the woman before me made a face.

"Do you think they now? I don't think they should leave like this." she asked in a tone laced with worry.

I turned back outside and sighed, examining the face of the man that undoubtedly resembled the face of the boy across me. No matter my sins, the universe blessed me with the instinctive knowledge of knowing exactly who son's father is.

"It'll be alright. I know him. He'll be back, for both of us... he can feel it in his bones."