#whats more i do NOT believe MJ would be into the beard at all.

[sciderman]

i simply CANNOT get behind the current movement at marvel where they insist that peter parker and johnny storm would ever grow out their facial hair.

this is a formal CEASE AND DESIST. wildly OUT OF CHARACTER for both of them. this is GROSS and INDECENT. stop IMMEDIATELY.

[ikassienatics]

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥 ↬ 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩.

summary: half the population survived the blip and that includes peter your boyfriend, while the other half was erased from existence just like you. five years later, the snap was reversed but the world you once lived in changes

warnings: angst but not really, mj being a really cool bad bitch, life lessons from michelle jones, peter moving on, endgame spoilers? but i know you've seen the masterpiece already, mj cursing a lot like a lot.

author’s note: y’all it’s been soo long since i wrote something and this idea popped inside my mind while watching infinity war for the hundredth time, and i just can’t help myself!!!! though to warn y’all, i’m actually not that proud with the outcome of this one, it felt like something is not right, like something is missing or whatnot. and if there’s probably a fic i wrote in which i disliked, this will be it.

a handsome god trying to invade new york is bullshit, a malfunctioned artifical intelligence trying to take over the world is too much. but a purple alien named thanos erasing half the population in your planet is full of shit. the world is a crazy place indeed, you thought you guys have enough, that everything is being handled with care, for fuck’s sake earth has avengers. but turns out, even the earth’s mightiest heroes can’t stop nor survive the snap.

everything happened so fast, one second every student in your university is standing happily inside the gymnasium as they awaited the announcement about the upcoming ball, then the speaker suddenly turned into dust, she fades away like she was nothing, like a bubble, turned into ash. then everyone panicked including you, you just saw a person turned into dust before your eyes, of course you will panic

then you stood up from your seat, taking your boyfriend peter with you as you both decided to run for the exit, then it happened to everyone too. they also started turning dust

then it was your turn.

you didn't really know how it was your turn, you just sensed it that you will fade away just like them, so you did what common teenagers would do. you clung in your boyfriend once you felt the tingling sensation inside your body. it was a scary feeling, and for some reasons the numb pain started fading away, like it find some way to connect with your brain to tell it that there's nothing wrong when technically, everything is wrong. like it was convincing your mind that you don't feel anything. you have never been scared like that before

peter was by your side when that happened, holding you tightly on his arms as if he's trying to stop you from leaving. but nothing stopped the snap, no one manage to stop the blip. not even the earth's mightiest heroes.

and now you're back, sitting alone on the bench with no peter by your side, you stood up from the bench seeing mj looking at her hands weirdly, only half the students inside the gym remains and the speaker on the front, the other half? your peter? they're not here.

rushing towards the tan lady, you approach her with your hear beating faster "mj!" she look up from her hands, eyebrows furrowed and seemingly as confuse as you are

"y/n?" she stood up before you can even reach her sit "what the fuck just happened?" she look around as well, everyone started reaching for their devices, calling their family to make sure they're safe and okay, some even rush towards the exit while some started crying

"i have no idea." you pursed your lips, you and mj are never close. you always get insecure because of the tall girl, thinking that she may have a thing for peter but she always assure you that she don't date boys, she prefer girls. so standing in front of her, let alone talking to her is still awkward for you, but there's no time for that

"did you just came back as well?" she asked you, reaching for her bag and hanging it around her shoulder, you nodded your head "i was actually wondering where peter was. . ." your eyes widen, she might think you don't care about anything but peter, or maybe she will think your ignorant because even after what happened, even if there's a lot to be concern about, you still ask for your boyfriend first "i mean, everyone, i was wondering where half of the students are."

"yeah, me neither." she grabbed her phone from inside her bag, planning to text her parents just like everybody else when she suddenly caught a glimpse of the date on her lockscreen "oh shit!"

your eyes widen "what? what is it?" even though you two were never close and you felt like overstepping a line, putting your nose in her business. you can't help but get curioused because of the expression written all over her face

"what the fuck is this." she showed you her phone and there you saw a 2023 instead of 2019, your eyes also widen in realization reaching for your phone as well and seeing the same thing in your lock screen, you even saw a couple of text and calls from your parents and friends five years ago

five years ago

what the fuck

you licked your lips, about to call your mom when you heard someone speak from behind you and mj "y/n?" the voice is familiar, turning on your heels, you came in contact with a person no other than ned leeds, one of peter's friends.

mj also turn her head making ned switch his eyes from you to her "mj?" he asks, still can't believe what he's seeing. ned changes a lot even after just five minutes, he grew a beard, his hair looks so fresh from hair cut and his body is more lean than before, he looks older. weird

"ned! oh my god." you run towards him, jumping in his arms and hugging him tightly, he did the same closing his eyes in the process and praying that this is not a dream, not anymore, no. this has to be real, everyone has to come back, this has to be the reality.

"hey, man!" mj nodded her head at the man in front fo you, he still looks confuse but not as confuse as the pair "what happened here?"

his eyebrows furrowed "you don't know?" the way he said those words made your heart clench, what really is happening? and where's peter? if ned is here, then peter must be somewhere near, knowing that guy. him and ned are usually always together, even in your dates ned has to tag along, not that you mind. you enjoyed it most of the time

"what? what do you mean?" you look back at mj "we just came back, what happened? why do you look older? did you just came back as well?" you bombared him with question

he shakes his head "no, half of the population survived." your eyes widen, then if half the population survived, does that mean peter survive as well? or maye he's also part of the snap? but where is he. you look back at your seat not long ago, expecting your partner to pop our of nowhere. but there's none, no peter.

"while the other half fade away?" mj continued or more like, asked.

"y-yeah." he nodded "it's been five years." so that's why it's year 2023 and not 2019? but how, how could it happened? why? who did this? you can't help bur ask yourself

"yeah, that answers our question." the curly brunette beside you spoke, referring to what you both just witness a while ago. biting your lip, you fidget with your fingers as you find the right time to ask him a question

"what are you doing here if it's been five years?" you questioned

"i helped my cousin get enrolled, then everyone just. . . just started to come back and i think of going here to see if both of you came back as well." he answers softly

you slightly smiled at him "w-where's. . . where's peter?" you saw how ned's body froze, how almost all the blood in his face dissapeared by your question, like he's suddenly afraid of something. his happy and chill personality faded just like the snap

"p-peter? y-yeah uhm." he clears his throat, you look down on his fingers and unexpectedly saw a ring in one of them

"you're married?" both you and mj said in unison, he look down on his hands as well before nodding

"yeah, betty and i you know. we made it work, aftee graduating i decided to take our relationship in another level." his eyes sparkles with joy as he tells you the news "she's. she's actually pregnant, two months."

"congratulations." you and mj both said

"and peter, uhm. he now lives in, he no longer lives with aunt may and he also. . . he's not an avenger anymore." you saw how ned had a hard time on telling you what he knows, the ned you knew not long ago is gone, ned usually knows how to compose himself immideately and maybe that's one of the reasons why him and peter fits each other perfectly, your boyfriend is an akward person, a weird one and he always stumble upon his words, while ned is more composed and often helped him.

"wait, what?" michelle gasp

while you stayed still, confusion erupts in your mind. how did it happened? why did peter left the avengers? he always love helping people, finding comfort in swinging around queens and fighting for those who cannot fight, and being an avenger? it's his dream, so why would he turn his back on a life he always wanted to have?

at this moment, you felt like you never knew peter anymore, or ned, he changes so much and you wish peter is still the same after five years even though you know it's impossible, many things can happen in those years, many things can change.

"yeah, after. you know, he got anxiety after the blip, he really had a hard time with keeping up so, uhm. yeah."

"wait, i don't understand a single thing." mj speak once again, trying to make the situation clear

you saw how ned gulped, as if he's about to spill the biggest tea there is "he just, shit happens. you know? and people change, how they see life, their perspective and peter. well, peter. he, he change. he's grown up now."

"like, how grown up?" did he move on?

"i can't tell you that, i'm sorry but he lives in." then he started tellng you the adress which you gladly wrote down on your phone with shaking fingers, imagining how peter would seeing you after five years, would he be happy, sad? or maybe he moved on?

god you don't want to think about it, peter moving on from his relationship with you? can that really happen? can peter really do that to you? no, no. peter won't do that, maybe ned is right. he changed but he's still peter, you refuse to believe that peter forgot about you, that he replaced you after being a part of the blip, because if tables have turned? if peter is the one who has been snapped and you're the one who survived? you don't think you can forget him or move on.

the trio was about to continue keeping up, but ned's phone started to ring and you saw a picture of a woman on the screen "sorry, wife calling." he turn his back on you quickly answering the phone while you and mj just nodded your head, giving him a chance to answer the line

"i always knew peter is a freak." she whispered beside you, trying to make the mood better as she started to see the doubt in your eyes "but a grown man? come on, just because he grow up and finally became a man doesn't mean he has to forget stuffs, you know?"

you slightly smile at her, nodding your head in agreement "you're right."

"anyways, i got to call my dad. you call your family too, they must be worried and confused. all this shit is probably all overt the news by now."

***

two days passed after you came back from the blip, everything you thought you knew? gone. it's like you never existed in the first place and you had a hard time keeping up, keeping up with the world you once knew. your parents on the other hand, they are more understanding than ever, letting you stay lock up in your room so you can think but occasionally asking you if you want to go on a family vacation but you told them you have to fix yourself first. your parents reaction when you came back is priceless especially your mom, she almost didn't want to let you go after embracing you if it weren't for your dad and you saw the longing in their eyes.

of course, their only daughter went missing five years ago then came back as if nothing happened.

you tried to read as many newspaper as you could, news from the last five years, trying to blend in once again. you felt sick thinking about the new society you are now stepping on. but even after those things, you have mj with you and you two became close, facetime here, facetime there. helping each other stood back up from their feet.

two days later, that's when you decided to visit peter, two days of dreaming about the guy, imagining what his reaction would be if you showed up in his door step, and a part of you wished you didn't came back after what you saw, after what you learned.

the house that ned told you was huge, it's white and there's a mailbox standing outside with a name 'parker' in it, it's more like a family house, a car on the garage and a small bike right beside it, a small bike? why does peter have a small bike on his house?

and if you weren't that stupid, you're going to be able to put the pieces together, the bike, the house, the mailbox, ned seeming like he's nervous about something. it all made sense especially when you knock on the door and it was opened by the one and only liz allen. the small bump on her stomach also didn't go unnoticable by you, and the small boy running around from the inside looking like you're boyfriend? yeah, fuck. you get it. he moved on, what else can you do?

nonetheless, she invited you in and you could have said no, but you didn't. there's a lot of question you want to ask peter, why? and how? but you're not going to blame him because of the decision he made. you fully understand it, that maybe his feelings for liz didn't really fade away just like he told you when you two started dating, or maybe he forgot about you. five years is a long road

and that's how you saw yourself inside the kitchen with peter sitting in front of you, the house smelled like home, like love, like family. his family, her family. liz was upstairs trying to give the both of you a time to talk while their son went out to play with some kids outside.

"you're married?" you asked, although it's obvious. you still want it to come out from his mouth. your voice came out like a whisper but you know he heard it, he only nodded his head in response, not knowing what else to say.

"you left me for her." you said once again

and that's when he spoke back "i didn't left you, you left me." his voice is deeper than before, more manly and he didn't stumble upon his words just like before, he looks like be know exactly what he's doing, what he's saying.

he's not the peter you once knew anymore, just like everybody else.

"are you blaming me for what happened?" you whispered shouted, not wanting liz to hear your conversation even though you know that peter will tell her later once you got out

"i'm not blaming anything on you, i'm just trying to explain that i'm not the one who fades away to dust, who left me with nothing for five years. what do you expect me to do?"

"i expect you to wait for me, i came back didn't i?" you saw how your vision started to get blurry, telling you that any time soon a tears will fell from your eyes.

"i waited for you but i lose hope."

"how could you do this to me?" and that's when a single tear drop from your eyes, then another. but you didn't do anything to stop it

"how could i? can you put yourself in my position for once? i was left with nothing for the past five years! i have nothing, tony was a part of the snap, may and i fell apart because all this shit! and liz? she's just, she's there with me. she stood by my side during those times and neither of us can't help it." and if your heart broke after finding out that peter moved on, now it's being shredded to pieces especially after what he just told you

"you find comfort in another woman."

"don't pretend like you will do this differently if i were the one who got snapped." you drop your palms on the table causing it to make a loud thump

"don't you there turn the tables, because if i were the one who survived and you're the one who does not. i will still wait for you no matter how fucked up everything is." you said angrily "did you ever loved me? or did you just used me to get over her? to make her jealous?"

"don't fucking change the subject." that's the first time he ever cursed in front of you, in those eight months of you two dating, no matter the situation, he never cursed or yell at you. yeah you fight often times but it didn't come this far, no yelling, no cursing, just a calm fight.

you wanted to be selfish, to steal peter away from liz just like how she teal him away from you. but you couldn't, you can't even think about it. you don't want to be the person, the woman who stole their dad away from them, you don't want their child to grew up without a dad, to grew up longing for a father.

"look, i know it's hard but believe me or not. i loved you." he said softly this time "but i have a family now, a family to take care of, a children to look after and none of this can bring back the past, none of this can bring both of us together just like before. you have to understand the situation that none of this is inevitable, maybe we're not meant for each other, maybe this is meant to happened, what matters right now is you're back and i have the family i always wanted, maybe not with you. but i'm happy now."

he held your hands from the table, soothing it gently to calm you down "i loved you, and i still do until now but not as much as i love her."

"you don't know how many men will kill just to be with you, you deserve beter and i wish you all the happiness in this world." he added, you look down on his hands, biting your shaking lips as you refuse to believe everything he told you

everything is just too much, it happened so fast. that your brain could not even keep up, but you have to accept the truth, the truth that the both of you are no longer the couple you were used to be. that he moved on and you must do the same

***

you lay down, facing the ceiling before sighing. even after two weeks, fourteen days, even after all those minutes passed you can't seem to get used to the world you were in right now. you're starting to drift away from your parents, not liking to go out and instead you prefer to self isolate yourself inside your room. but no one can blame you for your actions, it's hard. keeping up with everything, it's hard facing complicated things like this especially because peter is not by your side unlike before.

and for once, you just wanted to. . . you just want everything to stop for a while. everything, just. just to give you time to understand

if only it weren't for the snap, or what everyone prefer to call that 'thing'. if it weren't for that, then maybe you already graduated by now, maybe you're the one who's married with peter instead of liz. maybe

"i thought that if i acted like it didn't matter. it wouldn't." you said, eyes still focused on the ceiling as you tried to think about everything that had happened in the past ever since you came back from the ash

mj, who's quietly reading a book on the sofa inside your room decided to join you in your comfy bed, laying beside you and facing the white and boring ceiling as well. unlike you, mj asked for help. she started seeing a therapist to help her get better and to guide her in this journey where she's trying to fit in once again.

but you? you prefer to be alone no matter how many times your parents tried to talk to you or asked you if you need help, even if they kept their arms open for you, even if every person who survived the snap kept their arms wide open for those who didn't. you can't bring yourself to do it, to ask for help like mj. unlike you, mj handled all the problems like a champion, you never see any discomfort in her eyes ever since you came back. yeah maybe the first day, you saw how scared she was but now? she's getting better while you felt like you're getting worse.

you drift away from your parents, never answered or check your phone, you completely shut down peter and liz no matter how many times they tried to invite you like when their son celebrated his birth day. but you see yourself getting closer to mj

which is. weird

you never see it coming,

you never see any of this coming.

"it's okay not to be okay, you know?" she mumbled from beside you. closing her book and fixing her eyeglasses

"shit happens, we get sad, stress, depress, you name it. and that's okay, that's normal. everybody felt that too." she added

from the ceiling, you turn your body to face her before asking her a question "how did you do it?" she seemed taken a back but manages to compose herself right away

putting her other hands behind her head, she licked her lips before answering your question "how did i do it? i didn't do no such thing." it was a whisper, but because of the silence evaporating inside your room you manage to hear every letter that came out of her mouth

"i was scared, afraid after all this shit you know? and it made me think that feeling those things, that self isolating myself or being sad or what the fuck will not make anything better." she told you "like, if i cry in my room because i felt left out, will that make anything better? no right? if i stay in my room and get so emotional, will that bring back the past? will the pain bring back everything? no, that's why instead of being like the others, instead of following what i feel, instead of letting my fear take over. i just told them to fuck off, i go out, tried understanding the world more, have fun, be with my loved ones, forget the fact that i became an ash. because no matter how sad you feel, or how depress you've become. the world will not stop spinning for you, and because of that. might as well as spin with the world, you know what i'm saying?"

from her laying position, mj sat up completely facing you and holding your hand in hers "i know you're having a hard time, we all are. but don't forget that you're not alone in this. you don't have to be, you don't have to face all this shit alone because i'm here for you, your parents, your friends, peter. maybe not in the way you want him to be, but all of us will be here for you." she said sincerely

"i know it's tough, and it's probably much more harder in your case because of peter. but things aren't always going to be there, you know? nothing is permanent. i can't be sitting here with you forever because i have to go home or else my dad will probably burst out." you laughed at her humor "but i'm serious, sometimes everything is not meant to be that way. and i think that's what makes life special, nothing is permanent, because of that life teaches us how to cherish every moment."

"avengers fought with their dying breath just to give us a second chance, and i'm glad they did. we were all given a second chance to live in this world and i don't want to waste that."

that's when you realized how lucky you are, she's right. you were given a second chance, a second chance to live, to be happy. avengers bled for this, for all of you to return. you should live your life to the fullest, and that's what you're about to do

peter is one of the best things that ever happened to you, maybe he's not with you until the end but at least you manage to be with him and to feel the love from spiderman in the past.

maybe in some other life, in a distant universe, in an unknown world, in a small city, you and peter have your little love story going on, and you both are living there your happily ever after.

disclaimer: all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. the original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. the author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

[doodleimprovement]

These are all pictures of what I see when I imagine the BEST POSSIBLE ENDING for the OtH AU - click for comments (on desktop)

sniff... I love happy endings

--

I think i finally got all of my creativity out designing the outfits. Maybe now I can do some more mermay stuff before the month is over

Click the “Keep Reading” for my head-canons (basically plot points to a fic I don’t have time to write) as to what happens post the fight with Vanessa

As always, this AU belongs to the awesomely amazing @doodledrawsthings

(The Dad beard idea was inspired by @pokeninjager-ghost-art‘s art - who is a genius but also hurt my feelings with that last little collection of doodles) 

With Vanessa gone, Snatcher (Luka? He’s not sure what to go by) is the king of Subcon, and has to figure out what to do. 

The First thing he does is give proper burials to the frozen people in Vanessa’s manor (A difficult task - the florist’s causes a breakdown in and of itself)

Perhaps un-wisely, he burns the manor to the ground and leaves the land alone - hoping that nature will take over and he’ll never have to think about it again. 

He stays on the ship with the kids part of the time, and he takes what riches were left to Subcon (more than you’d think - the manor held a lot of stuff worth a *lot* of pons) and takes it to build himself a home - a nice, decent sized house (And if there are two guest rooms on his floor right across the hall from him that aren’t actually guest rooms it is none of your business)

Snatcher and MoonJumper work together and figure out that Subcon can become a haven country of sorts, offering people a place to start over and live anew 

Their first citizen that isn’t a dweller or Subconite? Cooking Cat. She opens up a restaurant and it is *awesome* 

They also contract Dead Bird Studios to produce commercials and assist with advertising the country to immigrants

Soon, the abandoned village is slowly becoming a place where people actually live again, and Snatcher spends more time there, with Hat and Bow there as often as they can be as they do one more scan of the world to make sure there's no other Time Pieces left behind - something they put on pause after the broken Time Piece fiasco 

Snatcher admits to MoonJumper that he can’t do this alone - that he needs someone’s help and asks MJ to rule alongside him as a “Brother king” - they joke about who is the “lesser”, but it's all in good fun. 

Time passes, and he’s seeing the kids less and less - not because he’s not available, but because they’re not visiting. Snatcher is concerned, but tries not to pry. They had other things to do, he couldn’t interfere. 

What he doesn't know is that the kids themselves are having a helluva dilemma, and spent the better part of a month arguing about what to do. It takes some thinking, maybe a little crying, but they decide what they want. 

And one day, MJ rushes into Snatchers office, telling him that the children’s spaceship just left the atmosphere. 

Snatcher can’t believe it. They’d just leave? Without a goodbye? He rushes outside to see for himself- MJ on his heels, only to be greeted by the girls, who are outside his home with no more than a few bags. 

Confused, Hat holds up a paper to him

Its a contract -handwritten by both of them in their broken English, asking to stay with him for a bit while they look for a place to live, because they sent their ship on auto pilot back to their home planet to get the Time Pieces to safety, but wanted to stay in Subcon. 

Snatcher and MJ both look at the paper with surprise at their choice, and Snatcher tells MJ to “grab the papers - looks like we’ve got time” 

Now its the girls turn to be confused, until MJ comes back and eagerly hands the girls the papers 

They’re contracts of guardianship - drafted weeks prior 

“... How would you like to be the princesses of Subcon?” 

Contrary to expectation, Hat is the one that just starts crying and scribbles on the contract before grabbing at both MJ and Snatcher with Bow close behind

AND THAT'S IT 

THE FAMILY IS TWO KING BROTHERS WHO ARE DADS AND THEIR LITTLE ADOPTED HELLSPAWNS THE END

[idjitlili]

Eomer x reader

Warnings : a little steamy, if you don’t like mj don’t read

Summary:

Imagine somehow being teleported into lord of the rings and being in one of the tents with merry, at the eve of battle. Him being interested in what our world is like. In which eomer is peaking in jealousy.

Word count:2583

As you sat on the floor ,in the red and white canopy tent, merry looked at you with interest in front from your seat.

Merry gave you a big smile with half of his smirk up higher; after you somehow ended up in this strange world ,you became very closer with merry and pippin.

You had seen the two hobbits dance and sing days before, it was very strange , but uplifting and entertaining.

Merry had being asking you questions about your world the second you had gotten here, in fact minutes before now had been ,while practising his swordsmen skills on air.

“what is dancing like in your home, y/n?” Merry spoke break the comfortable silence you sat in.

“Well..um the dances I enjoy , is from before I was born or slightly after.” You explain quickly to the hobbit before continuing after taking a breather.

“There was this man, he was a talented singer and dancer. He has all these dance moves with are complexed yet he makes them look effortless. His name was Michael Jackson.”

Merry looks up at you with amazement wanting to hear more of the man.

“Would you teach me some of these dance moves,y/n?” He asks with pure delight.

You stand up quickly , holding out your hands for merry to take, he does , in which you pull him to his feet.

“Yes I will , okay his most known dance move is called the moonwalk.” You explain to him , then you take your shoes off and perform the action.

After you are done you look towards the hobbit struggling to repeat the move, you giggle at his attempt.

Unknown to you , a certain blonde haired future king to the throne of Rohan, had being watching more like stalking. He had pure jealousy written upon his face.

“No,no ,no merry. Here I’ll help.” You spoke to the hobbit , whilst bending down to the floor.

You lift his left heel up and pull his right leg back. Then you push the left heel down and bring up right and pull the left foot back behind.

“See you have to keep one heel up and the other down , in which the one is down you slide it back and then you change.” You explain as easy as you possible can.

“Ooohhhhhh, “ merry smiled bright at you and started trying again, this time he succeeded.

“Yesss , you got it dude.”

Suddenly you hear, someone clearing their throat from behind you. You look in the direction which the noise came from , to seem eomer. He has a scowl imprinted onto his face, you gulp nervously.

“Hey dude , what do need something?” You spoke dragging out the yes.

you had met eomer when you Aragorn ,Gimli and Legolas has been looking for the hobbits. He seemed to take an interest in you , not surprising you did look out of place. You wore clothes that were very different to what a woman in this world would wear. Not to mention that you was travelling with men, as a young woman. He had never heard anyone speak the way you had , using such words as dude for everyone, especially to royalty, you didn’t even bow.

You were a shy girl around people you didn’t know, you wish to seem as special to people, but in your heart you didn’t feel it. Not to mention you did this by naughty jokes , impressions or just speaking in pure quotes. Aragorn was not impressed when you stated a joke involving his name when the hobbits were no where to be found.

“Hey the hobbits Aragorn?!” You recall speaking to the small group of the fellowship that were left.

“Did you really just-“ Aragorn spoke before turning away searching for the trail of the hobbits. While gimli , enjoyed it very much.

After that you came up with another joke after Gimli spoke of his father and when the company were kidnapped by trolls.

“Gimli , do you know why they were discovered by the trolls?”

He looked up at you at and spoke “yeah they were try-“

However you interrupted him “Because he was Gloin in the dark.” He froze while legolas and Aragorn laughed.

“Why don’t you make fun of legolas for once?” He groaned at you.

You smirked to yourself, you had already planned this.

“Alright if you say so. Hey leggy. “ you spoke whilst placing your self on on the log next to legolas.

“Do you know what you would’ve been called if you had no legs?”

He frowned at you , not looking forward to what was to come. “No I do not , lady y/n. I assume the same.”

“Haha -wrong. Leg a less.Do you get it because your legs Aragorn.”

“Did you really had to add me to the joke?” Aragorn growled. You shrugged in response.

Eomer interrupted your thoughts , speaking “uh I just came to see what you two were doing.” He looked a little nervous, pink spread lightly on his cheeks.

“Oh , I was just teaching Merry some dance moves from my home, so he can impress some lady’s.” You respond to Eomer with a giggle whilst looking at merry who was in his own world, still moonwalking. You walked closer the entrance of the tent allowing Eomer in.

“That’s very nice of you lady y/n , that’s a strange move, yet so admiring” You smile lightly at him.

“Thank you ,Eomer, but please you don’t have to call me lady, I am not a lady , I am barely an adult. Plus I am not of importance just y/n.” You spoke with a light blush upon your face. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself, Eomer was very handsome.

“Oh L- y/n you of much of an importance especially to that hobbit there. You are very interesting to many men , with your unique personality , you have a lot of men swooning for you. It doesn’t help you are a very pretty girl.” His face flushed with red now, yours the same.

“T-thank you , I am not used to people thinking such things or calling me me pretty. “ you spoke quickly sputtering your words.

“Surely the reason is you have been courting a man and he threatens anyone that goes near you?”

You scoff at his words, he looks at you confused, “I am sorry to disappoint but that’s definitely not it, I haven’t ever had a proper relationship with a dude. NoT even a kiss.”

You look at your feet with embarrassment, after looking up at Eomer his mouth gapped with shock.

“That’s hard to believe for such a lovely person. None of them clearly deserve you.” He sincerely spoke , you feel his eyes on.

“More like the other way round. Do you want something to eat I made mash potatoes, we was about to eat?” You start walking towards the food getting bowls to dish it up.

“No one deserves you if they don’t tell you are beautiful. If you have enough , I will.” He gazes upon you.

You blush harder than you think possible.

“Yes we have more than enough come sit.” You gesture to fabric covered floor because it’s not like you can have furniture on a soon to be war zone.

“Merry sit down , before spill the drinks.”

You demand the hobbit.

“Yes ma.” He grins at you.

“Excuse you I think you are double my age. Here.” You pass the two men their food , receive thank yous, before sitting beside eomer on your bedroll.

What can you say , you just love mash potatoes.

You ,merry ,and eomer talked for hours , before you know it merry had fallen asleep and it was way past midnight.

You had been talking about your difficulties, trying to get Mordor, as you hadn’t been trained like the rest of the fellowship, plus you were only 18.

“that must have been very hard.” Eomer tells you , laughing.

Your smile turns into a straight face, before twitching up.

“That’s what she said” you begin to laugh hysterically, covering your mouth trying not to awake pippin.

Eomer looks at you confused but still laughs with you. “What does that mean?”

“ it’s a sex joke dude because-“ you began but are cut off by eomer.

“I didn’t know woman made such jokes especially someone so young.” He laughs

“Yes my dude , me and my friends back home do, they tell me I am too dirty minded. .” I smirk towards him.

“What makes them think you are,y/n?” he asks returning a smirk.

“Well my lord , I may have a slight thing for older men with stubble, let’s just leave it at that, I’ll spare you of the details.” Your eyes gaze down to his beard and back to his eyes, Blood rushes to your face.He twitches when you call him my lord, gazing at you.

“Oh , I see. Yet you still haven’t been kissed. “ he notices your gaze on his beard smirking bigger than before.

“yes tis true , I can’t help that, but I can imagine. Plus I got hands.” You giggle to yourself.

“ indeed you do, as do I. If you are referring to the same activities.” He chuckles at your humour.

“Yes I am.”

You both stare intensely at each other , eyes flickering at each other’s lips, slowly leaning forward. Lips almost grazing each other , when you breathe in. His breathe is hot on your face. Eomers soft blond locks slightly hitting against your face.

He then whispers to you slowly, “may I kiss you?” You nod your head slowly, nervously. His large rough hands land upon your cheeks softly. He places his lips upon yours lip the flutter of a butterfly. It was just a peck, yet electricity flew through body. He removes his hands from your face and looks into your eyes.

You quickly wrap your arms his neck against his hair , you press your lips against his roughly , he pulls you close by wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He gently bites your bottom lip , earning a small moan from your mouth, and causing your mouth to gap. You feel his smirk against your face and he takes his opening to put his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

Your hands end up into his locks slightly pulling , a small grunt leaves his lips. It sounded like keanu reeves.you shuffle yourself into his lap straddling him. His hands on your back under your shirt. You pull back still in his lap to breathe. You mumble “thank you.”

You go to kiss him again , missing his lips. He eagerly kisses back , lips colliding.one of his hands grips your upper back ,the other on your bottom. Lifting you over to your bed roll placing you down , your legs wrapped around his waist so tight that if it was his neck he would be dead soon. His head travels down your neck. Kissing it gently , then suddenly biting it and sucking on your soft skin. He earns multiple loud moans which you try to conceal with your hands.

His hands tug at the bottom of your shirt , you sit up slightly so he can remove it, leaving you bare with just your bra on. His eyes scan you. You frown slightly, feeling insecure. “You are beautiful.” He mumbles into neck. You then grab his face kissing him again. You pull his tunic shirt from his chest and kiss down his neck , like he did too you , sucking slightly , surely leaving marks. His hands travel up your sides slowly.

You begin grinding harshly into eomers , now erected cock. His clothed large erection twitching.He grunts at your actions. He begins to whisper “we should wait , we will wake merry.”

“No , I promise I’ll be quiet.” You whine to him quietly.

He leans down to your ear “no you won’t my love, you will be screaming my name.” his low voice sends chills down your spin. Your face flushed with colour.

“Okay but after the battle ?” You ask eagerly , he smirks and nods his head pressing A kiss to your lips.

“Are you going to stay in here tonight then? It’s very late.” You ask him looking into his eyes trying to hide the excitement from the event that have just occurred.

“ I cannot , my bed roll is my tent.” He sighs at the thought.

“You can share with me if you want?” You smile at him.

“Okay , I shall stay.” He sits up and puts his shirt back on as do you , but removing the bra because who sleeps in a bra. You both lay and he pulls you tight into your chest. His head resting in the crook of your neck. Soon you fall into sleep.

———————————————————

Inthe morning you wake up alone and merry is sitting eating and apple. You sit up slowly yawn. Merry smiles at you.

Soon you are fully awake and ready for the day, for battle. Eomer didn’t know that though.

You were talking talking to merry outside and eowyn comes over to talk to you a pippin. You had suspected that she wanted to help fight , but knew here brother and uncle would not allow it.

“Hey y/n, did you see my brother last night, I couldn’t find him anywhere?” She asks you smiling at you.

You go to speak but merry interrupts you quickly “oh y/n was teaching me a dance move and he came by and had dinner with us. I fell asleep after. But when I awoke he was gone ,so he must of left when I was sleeping.” Merry speaks quickly to eowyn.

You gulp remembering the moments you shared with him last night.

“Oh thank you, that’s why I couldn’t fin-Did you hurt your neck y/n?” She smirks at you. Unknowingly to you eomer has littered your neck with hickeys but you didn’t have a mirror in the tent so you couldn’t of known.

Merry looks at you innocently. “How could you bruise your neck??!” He gasps shocked, he doesn’t believe it’s possible.

Before you can even reply , the man him self walks up to eowyn and hugs her. “I’ve been looking for you , you and y/n shouldn’t still be here.” Both merry and eowyn look at his neck. The silence causes you to look at they are looking at. You gasp at the sight of his neck. Eowyn smirks at the two of you.

“How did both of you bruise your necks last night? You were sitting in the tent.” Merry still unaware of the cause but then let’s out ‘oh wait....’

“So brother did you see a girl last night?”

“No what on earth are you talking about , I was training and got hit by a wooden sword.” Eomer just smirks at you and then leaves.

“What about you y/n?” She crosses her arms still smirking.

“No I am virgin.” You admit freely.

She laughs ,” I believe you but my brother will make sure that doesn’t last not for long.”

———————————————————

After the battle end up reuniting with eomer and he asks to wed you immediately. The stubble was better than you thought it would be.

[littlemissagrafina]

Comfortember Day 17. Flashbacks

please tell me (is this real?)

@comfortember

Read On AO3

Flashbacks were a part of the superhero gig. Peter knew that, he did, but that didn't make them any easier to deal with.

He hated them and he hated just how much they had changed his life, how the flashbacks affected so many of the things he did and saw in his daily life. Things were different because of them, and they were different from something as big as hating being near lakes or enclosed spaces, to the small and simple thing like getting a sandwich.

He couldn't walk past the bank near Delmar's anymore. At least not without seeing the same flashes and rays of otherworldly energy from his first run in with alien technology, without the guilt of the memory of the destruction that had been wrought on Mr. Delmar's deli.

When he patrolled, he couldn't go through the area where the warehouse fell on him without feeling echoes of the weight and pain of tons of concrete slabs and metal beams pressing down on him. It left him with claustrophobia.

He couldn't ride the bus to school or events anymore, the yellow vehicle now associated with Thanos, with swinging off to help Mr. Stark. With Titan.

With dust.

He couldn't touch lots of sand anymore, he hated that it took beach and lake days away from him.

He couldn't stand the colour orange or the feel of the Iron Spider suit.

Couldn't, couldn't, couldn't. There were so many couldn'ts. Peter misses the times where couldn't was can.

He missed being able to have fun, to walk to Delmar's and get his favourite sandwich, he missed joking with Ned and MJ on the bus. He missed tinkering with the nanites of the Iron Spider suit.

Peter couldn't do any of it without flashes of the bad times that came with the things he used to enjoy. Like old silver that had been neglected, not worn and left in the dark, the bad had tarnished the good that he once had.

Europe and Beck only added to the tarnish, to the couldn'ts. Except that it now added to his mind as well, the one place he used to be able to trust to be right, to be true. Even when anxiety twisted his thoughts and made it hard to think of the good, his brain had still been a constant.

Now it wasn't.

Now it terrified him, made him doubt things that were supposed to be true, supposed to be real.

Peter would look at his hands while he was busy with homework, how one second they were there in front of him, holding a pen above his notebook, and the next they would rumble to dust only to flicker back seconds later, solid and whole once again.

He had full days, sometimes, of incidents like that one, exhausting days of flickering in and out of reality, not always knowing what was or wasn't real.

Peter would see glimpses of Beck out the corner of his eyes sometimes, he would turn and look but  the only similarity on the person would be a beard and brown hair in the same style as Beck once had.

Peter had days like that, but he also had good days that were so clear, so real, that he wanted to cry at the relief of it.

The bad days were often and they were hard but he wasn't alone. He had his family who were all so willing to help him, to care, to love.

---

Peter woke up one day while he stayed at the lakehouse and felt the twisted, fuzzy confusion that had become almost familiar over the last year.

His hands felt tingly and he could already feel the doubt of where he was starting slip into his mind.

Before it could settle too deep, Peter pushed his duvet off and clambered over his abandoned backpack out the door towards the familiar, irregular heartbeat of Tony, his dad in all but blood.

Tony looked up from where he was sitting on the porch swing just outside the door to the living room, his face falling slightly as he took in Peter's appearance.

The teen was pale, his hands were shaking, and he looked moments away from crying.

"Oh, kiddy. Come here, Bambi." Tony shifted and opened his arms to Peter who immediately surged forward, sliding onto the swing and curling into Tony's arms.

The familiarity grounded him slightly but he still felt so damn unsure of himself, his mind continually dredging up memories of Beck and his illusions. They played in flashes behind his eyes.

"Is this real?" Peter suddenly blurted frantically. The images burning faster and brighter in his head.

Tony smoothed his hand over Peter's curls, cradling his head close to his chest. "It's real, Peter. Beck is gone, his illusions, his drones, his lies, they're all gone. I promise you."

A small whimper fell from Peter's lips. He so desperately wanted to believe it, wanted it to be real. It felt real, it was real. Why didn't his mind want him to have that truth?

"You can ask Fri, Bug. She'll show you the proof, the data, the files, whatever you need to feel safe. Just like normal, yeah? You can ask anything, but I promise that he's gone." Tony said.

"Friday?" Peter asked, his voice low and timid, nervous. He just wanted to know. He had to know, to remember, to realise.

Friday spoke up dutifully, her familiar Irish lilt and the words of proof and evidence she confirmed to Peter letting him relax and feel safe.

Maybe it wouldn't last forever, maybe only just in this moment of time here, as Peter sat curled in his dad's embrace, but he felt safe. He was real, the house was real, and Tony was real, the irregular yet strong heartbeat against where his head rested on Tony's chest solidifying his reality just a bit more.

The flashes would come, the moments of fearful, reality wrapping doubt would be hard to get past, but they weren't constant. They weren't forever or concrete.

Peter Parker was real and that was enough for now.

[starkeristheendgame]

Peter tattooed Tony's name on his ass after a drunken night on his 18th birthday. And then Tony found out.

I had so many ideas for this and I fucking loved this prompt. Honestly Anon, thank you so much for the burst of inspiration! I absolutely love this concept and spent like two-hours just staring into space and internally fic-writing 😂

Its not exactly a ‘drunken night tattoo’ AU, but that’s because any respectable tattoo shop will not tattoo you if you’re drunk, or if you’ve consumed alcohol within the last 12 hours. So in respect of the professionals and in the interest of promoting safety, this is a slightly different base!

TW: Very light D/s Dynamic | Slight possessive behaviour | Under-negotiated (but consensual)

Peter couldn’t even blame being drunk. He wished he could; really. People did stupid things when drunk. It seemed to be an immediate write-off excuse for anything, instantly accepted as a valid reason for any stupid decisions.

Peter had been completely and utterly, stone-cold sober at every point in this process. He’d been sober when he’d scanned one of Tony’s signatures onto his phone. Sober when he’d booked the consultation with InkSpren Tattoo. Sober when he’d walked into the studio a week later in a pair of MJ’s velvet shorts.

He wasn’t entirely nervous. Pain didn’t really scare him as much as he supposed it used to. Especially not pain from a set of tiny, teeny needles. He’d gone with MJ for her first tattoo, and she’d taken it pretty well. Well enough that somewhere around the first hour, she’d begun to snore.

His tattoo artist was named Dave. That was comforting. Dave sounded like a nice name. Normal. Friendly. Guy-Next-Door-Dave.

Peter faltered in the doorway.

Dave was a 6″1 male with a beard and more tattoos than Peter thought possible to fit on one man. He was in the process of sapping on a pair of gloves, and eyed Peter critically when he noticed him lingering in the doorway, before motioning for Peter to join him.

“Lay down on your front. Arch your spine a little. You’re gonna have to pull those down under the cheek,” he instructed, reaching into a small tub to pull out some sanitary wipes. Peter tried not to feel embarrassed as he did as told, crawling up onto the bed and settling comfortably, before he squirmed, tugging down his shorts and his boxers both.

The wipe was cold and Peter huffed out a breath in surprise, nose scrunching as he forced himself to relax again. It was fine. It was a wipe. “I’m going to apply the stencil now. You wanted it dead-centre on the right cheek, yeah, mate?” Dave asked after a pause, and Peter nodded.

It would be more accurate to say that MJ wanted it there. Or at the least… That was the spot she’d chosen, when he’d lost the bet. Or… The pseudo bet. It was better to say that MJ had simply said she didn’t believe Peter would ever do something like this, and.

Here he was.

The stencil felt a little like rice paper. A little wet, and having some strange, scary dude palming his asscheek was definitely an experience, but Peter lay quietly through it, glancing nervously at his phone. 

God. He hoped Mr. Stark was too busy to call him today. Or worse, face-time him. Was Mr. Stark watching him through the camera? Had he hacked the microphone?

“Alright. Get up and have a look. We can wipe it off and re-place if its not right,” Dave instructed, and Peter moved gingerly, keeping hold of the waistband as he shuffled awkwardly over to the mirror and twisted.

There, emblazoned in dark purple on his asscheek, was Tony Stark. In a perfect replica of Tony’s elegant, eccentric scrawl. “He’s gonna kill me,” Peter breathed, staring at the stencil with growing horror. He caught Dave’s quizzical, raised eyebrow, and forced a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Its perfect. Right in the middle there. Great. Thanks.”

He lay back down, and after a brief warning, Dave begun.

“You lost a bet or something, kid? Or are you just…Really into the whole Iron Daddy thing?”

Peter wheezed.

Iron Daddy?!

“Lost a bet,” he managed to hiss out, burying his face into his arms. Oh, god. Thank whatever Deity was lurking up there that MJ wasn’t here to witness that. She’d immediately demand that the stencil was changed. Dave gave an affirmative sound from behind him.

“Why this guy? You a big fan or something? Or is it the opposite?”

“Uh… I guess a fan? I Intern. At SI,” Peter replied, wincing at a particularly harsh nip from the needles. It wasn’t so bad, all things considered. It stung, but it wasn’t the raging fire of pain that some people mentioned when they spoke about getting tattooed.

“Mmph. Must come with a nice paycheque. You gonna show him?”

“Absolutely not” Peter responded instantly, to Dave’s amused chuckle. Christ. Mr. Stark would fire him on the spot. He’d take back the suit. He’d get a restraining order. What mentor wanted their name on their eighteen year old mentee’s asscheek?

Then again.

Tony was egotistical enough that he’d probably love it, and think it was the most hilarious thing in the world, and Peter really wasn’t sure which one was worse. Not to mention that both involved him dropping his pants in front of his boss.

It was quiet for a little while after that, just the buzz of the needle and the odd puff of breath at the occasional sting from the gun.

“You know anything about knitting?” Dave asked after a pause, and Peter frowned, considering. He knew a little about sewing. He’d made his own suit, before Mr. Stark had showed up. Aunt May had taught him back when he’d thrown a tantrum over ripping his favourite shirt as an eight year old.

“Uh… Not really? I mean, I can sew a little. But I’ve never knit anything,” he remarked back, pondering it. Knitting was soft sweaters and thick scarves. It made him think of little old Russian ladies on their porches.

“My Ma wants to knit. Says she’s at that age. Told me to get her some wool and those special needles. I dunno the first thing about knitting.”

And that was how Peter learned that Dave’s Ma was what Peter imagined Ms. Romanoff would be when she was eighty, and that Dave’s main job was actually as a Doggy Daycare assistant at Paws ‘R Us.

“All done,” Dave announced, squirting a weird, green froth over Peter’s asscheek before wiping it lightly with a series of cloths. “Go take a look.” 

Peter obliging, sliding off the bench and twisting to see his butt in the mirror.

“Aw, man. This is gonna be on my mind literally every time I see him,” Peter complained, clapping a hand over his face. There, in what looked like thick Sharpie across his ass, was Tony’s signature. Forever. If he ever died, it would be with this stamped across his butt.

“He ain’t gonna know none, unless you drop your kick in front of him,” Dave shrugged, peeling off the gloves. Peter had to concede that he had a point. He had zero intentions of ever telling Mr. Stark what he’d done, and in the three years they’d known each other, Mr. Stark had never seen Peter in less than a shirt and bottoms.

MJ looked moderately impressed when she pulled the hem of his shorts down, peering at the taped-up tattoo with her phone flashlight. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” she shrugged, flopping back onto her bed and resuming the video she’d been watching on her phone.

Peter shuffled around to lay on his stomach on the bottom of the bed, slapping at her ankle. “Never tell a Peter Parker he can’t do something,” he announced, and MJ rolled her eyes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it. I said it was a stupid thing to do, and you argued it, and then decided it was your new personal challenge.”

Peter paused, then tipped his head. “Fair.”

Hiding it was both predictably and surprisingly easy. Peter spent the next few days sitting very gingerly and working himself up into a lather about meeting Mr. Stark on the weekend. Would Tony somehow know? What if MJ had emailed him to spill the secret?

What if Peter and his big mouth spilled it for him?

Except… It went fine. Tony picked him up in a sleek, red sportscar and they went straight to the Tower. Peter was taking a gap year in order to process what he wanted to do with his future. 

Spiderman suddenly changing locations would be suspicious, and sooner or later, someone would think to check on new students at local facilities. People moving for jobs, that sort of thing.

Mj was just… Refusing to comply with the Government agenda or something like that. Honestly, Peter was thankful. With Ned moving to San Francisco for college, things could get a little lonely.

Bar the odd self-conscious squirm, it went as any other meet-up went. They stuffed themselves silly with food in the penthouse and messed around with tech and prank-called Steve and by the end of the night, Peter had almost forgotten about his tattoo.

The twitchy, nervous fear that Tony would somehow turn around and demand to know why he had his name tattooed on his ass eventually faded, and life resumed as it had before he’d gotten the ink.

Which, of course, is exactly when things had to go wrong.

Really, Peter should have expected it. His luck ran in a pattern, and he should have walked on egg-shells the moment he realised things were relaxed and easy and his tattoo was still a secret.

It had been about a month since the tattoo. When he was alone, Peter couldn’t help but stare at it, running his finger over the shiny, black skin. Tony’s name, emblazoned like a brand across his ass. 

It became the focal point of more fantasies than his ass could keep up with, lazing floppy and exhausted and lube-covered on his bed, his mind reeling.

He imagined Tony tracing the letters with his tongue. Imagined Tony pinning him down and tattooing it himself. Imagined a different world where the branding was deliberate. A mark of ownership. Or a surprise. The look on Tony’s face when Peter would bend over, revealing his name.

And, as predicted, hiding it was no trouble at all. Peter had his own room in Tony’s penthouse, so if he needed to shower or sleep there, he had complete privacy. It helped that the Iron Spider and that Tony’s Mark II for the fabric Spiderman suit fit over his regular clothing now, so he didn’t even have to strip to do his thing.

The one thing he didn’t factor in, was a disastrous inventory day combined with the decision to wear white boxers. There’d been a raid on a medical facility kidnapping people to experiment on and most of the equipment and tech had been turned over to Tony for examination, classification and destruction. Peter was there to help, sleepy-eyed and not quite as focused as he ought to be.

He didn’t check the lid on the canister was tight before picking it up.

He didn’t see the drop of oil on the floor where Dum-E had been trundling around, moving things.

He slipped with a whelp, still clutching the container as he slid and twisted, bumping canister first into the edge of the table. He was vaguely aware of Tony shouting as his vision filled with pink dust that stung his eyes and seemed to cling to his clothes.

“Peter! Jesus H - Get in the med-shower, now! I turned away for five seconds kiddo, how did you -” Tony’s frantic muttering stops and starts as he grabbed onto Peter’s arm, dragging him across the workshop to the tiny little emergency shower stall in the corner. 

Peter could do nothing but stagger along, blinking frantically to clear his eyes of dust and pink.

It doesn’t even fully register he’s inside the stall until the first blast of water rained down on him, cold like ice before immediately coming something akin to tepid. He spluttered, trying to flatten himself back against the wall as his hair fell down into his eyes and the water streamed down his mouth, his hair, his back.

He gasped as the water trickled down his thighs, soaking through the cotton of his sweatpants and making them heavy. His shirt clung to his torso like plastic wrap and stuck-peeled uncomfortably with each heaving, shuddering breath.

“Yeah, sorry. This thing acts for burns too, so. Gotta keep it cool,” Tony murmured from outside the stall, head tilting sympathetically even as Peter scowled at him from under the battering stream. “Take your clothes off,” Tony instructed, turning to look over his shoulder.

“What?” Peter squeaked, eyes widening as he wrapped his arms around himself protectively. Tony glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Relax, munchkin. My moves are smoother than that. It was a powder. Its likely it got inside your clothes, too,” he pointed out. Peter wanted to argue. Wanted to say if he just stood here long enough the risk was over, but.

“Turn around,” he huffed adamantly, scowling harder at Tony’s snort. But the genius complied, turning away and folding his arms as he observed the settling dust cloud. Peter counted to ten slowly, teeth chattering under the cold spray before he peeled off his shirt. 

The water on his skin was even more unbearable and he gave a whine of protest as he begun to work at the strings of his sweats, letting them fall with a disgusting, heavy slop.

“I was naked in front of you before,” Tony pointed out conversationally and Peter spat out water, shaking his head before pushing his hair from his eyes.

“That doesn’t count. The armour ripped your clothing off in beta deployment,” he pointed out, though he couldn’t help softening at the memory, snickering as he turned his back to Tony, scrubbing at his body. 

It had been hilarious. The actual deployment had gone fine, it was just when Tony had deactivated it that the armour had shrunk in on itself, taking his beaten old tank top and ratty workshop jeans with it.

“Both were an accident. Both involved one of us witnessing the other in a state of undress. Although my back has been dutifully turned since you commanded it, by the way. And both were equally hilarious in that my own armour undressed me, and you essentially became a - What is that?”

Peter jolted, having sunk into a daydream state of listening to Tony talk as he wiped himself down. He looked over his shoulder to find Tony staring straight at him, expression delighted and curious. Or, rather, straight at his ass.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Nothing!” he yelped, twisting to flatten his back against the wall. He’d left his boxers on for the sake of not trusting that Tony wouldn’t forget his vow of not looking, and had completely forgotten they were white. 

Which also meant that his dick was now flat out bared to his mentor. With a howl of frustration he twisted so he was side-on to Tony, curling up and glowering with all the muted rage he could muster.

“Its a logo. On my boxers,” he ground out.

“I think not,” Tony shot back gleefully, leaning on the protective railing with an absolutely manic glint to his eye. Peter almost groaned aloud, head falling back under the spray. It was too late. He was doomed. His heart begun to pound and the air he was sucking in felt like it wasn’t enough.

“You have a tattoo. On your ass. Right there,” Tony pointed out, as though Peter didn’t know it. Peter tried to glare but it came out feeble, weak. Fuck. He was screwed. So screwed! 

“What is it? Who’s name is it? Its clearly a name,” Tony continued, pestering for the information.

“Go away!” Peter barked lightly, shifting restlessly under the cool stream. Tony just shrugged easily at him and leaned through the gap, hitting the OFF button for the water. He seemed unfazed at Peter’s shuffling or his attempted aggression, smiling at him sweetly.

“You can tell me, or I can ask JARVIS. JARVIS is nice, he’ll tell me.”

And Peter’s blood runs cold, because there’s no doubt that JARVIS will. Peter never swore him to secrecy, and Mr. Stark’s name on his ass isn’t anything concerning to the AI.

“Its nothing! Oh my god, its just a tattoo!” he complained, making a shooing motion at his mentor as he side-stepped his sodden clothing. “Go get me a towel. And clean clothes. Please,” he huffed, fingers digging into his sides where he’d wrapped his arms around himself. Tony gave him a devilish grin, then gestured upwards.

“J?”

“It appears to be your name in your own handwriting, Sir,” JARVIS dutifully responded, his voice ringing like church bells through the room. The silence that followed was deafening and panic seeped like ice through Peter’s veins as Tony’s childish, gleeful look faded into complete, lax shock.

This is it. Everything he’s done, the last two years, the friendships and the Internship and Spiderman being Iron Man’s little tagalong… All gone. He’ll never eat day-old pizza with Clint again. He’ll never have Dum-E running over his foot again. The terror and panic bubbled up before he could stop it.

“Oh my god. Mr. Stark - You can’t - I’m so sorry. I swear, I wouldn’t have gotten it and especially not there but I just - I never thought you’d see it and -”

“Turn around,” Tony cut him off mildly, but his tone was firm. It was enough to snap Peter’s jaw shut as he stared, nails digging into his ribs as he blinked under the droplets that fell from his lashes. He sucked in a breath, staring in confusion.

“…What?” he breathed, pressing back against the shower wall as Tony advanced, unlocking the cubicle door to lean against the frame, eyeing him like a prime cut of steak.

“I said turn around,” Tony repeated patiently, raising one hand to make a little spinning gesture with his finger, as if Peter was a trick dog. Peter shook his head, horror quickly dawning as he realised not only what Tony was asking, but also the fact that if his boxers were that see-through…Facing the man directly was probably not the best idea.

He shuffled to the side as much as he could without baring either delicate matter. Tony’s lips quirked in amusement at this and he hummed softly as Peter shook his head. 

“Mr. Stark, its not - Its just your name, I swear. You sign it like every day, you don’t need to look,” he pleaded, shivering in the cool temperature of the workshop as the water begun to dry on his skin, running down in rivulets.

“I don’t sign it on your ass every day,” Tony pointed out, stepping closer. Peter wanted to stall, to argue that technically Tony hadn’t actually signed his ass, except his mentor was moving closer, reaching out slowly as though he might spook if he moved too fast. 

He was so close Peter could see the flakes of gold in his eyes, could smell the minty-motor-oil combination.

The first brush of Tony’s fingertips had his skin jumping like a colts, the touch so gentle it almost tickled. It was on the arch of his hips, skating the waistband of his sodden boxers before pressing just slightly to encourage him to turn. Tony’s gaze was tipped down, dark on his own.

“You can say no,” Tony reminded him softy, the hungry look in his eyes fading for a brief moment, replaced by something tender and careful. Peter sucked in a breath but didn’t resist as he was spun slowly on the spot, hands coming up to brace on the tiles. 

“How long?” Tony asked after a moment, thumbs pressing into the backs of his hips, breath hot across his shoulder.

“A month,” he managed to whisper, pressing his forehead to the wall as Tony’s thumbs slid along the waistband teasingly, catching and pulling but never dipping it more than an inch. 

Peter shuddered under the gentle touches, lips parting when Tony finally begun to slide the sodden material down his hips, over the large swell of his ass.

“You should have told me,” Tony rumbled, head ducking to mouth a lazy, open kiss to his bare shoulder, his stubble scratching just slightly. Peter shuddered as he felt the fabric slip to under his asscheeks, tight in the groove where it met his thigh but not overly uncomfortable. “Should have shown me sooner” Tony murmured into his skin.

And then the warmth of his breath was gone as he leaned back, and Peter could hear the gravelly, husked fuck that he uttered as he looked down, palm sliding around Peter’s flank so he could swipe his thumb across the dark sheen of the ink. 

Peter held his breath, tensing at the touch, though it didn’t hurt. Tony’s hand left his side to slide down between his shoulders soothingly.

“My name. On that perfect, juicy ass. Branded on there forever,” Tony was murmured, voice lethal and rasped as he stroked over it slowly, reverently. “Does that make you feel good, sweetheart? Knowing my claim is on you? In such an intimate place, too? Did you choose this?” Tony hummed, breath ghosting down Peter’s spine as he sank slowly to his knees.

Peter wasn’t about to let Tony know that actually, stamping it on his ass had been MJ’s idea. Especially not when Tony pressed a gentle, scratchy kiss over the tattoo. 

Especially not when he licked over the letters slowly, palms falling down to cup Peter’s asscheeks firmly. It was all he could do to whine, high and pathetic as he trembled under Tony’s hold.

Tony continued to mouth at the tattoo, lavishing it with nips and sloppy kisses as he kneaded at Peter’s asscheeks, almost distracting him enough to spread them with his thumbs, the kisses slowly travelling right until hot air right over there made Peter jolt, eyes snapping open.

“Mr. Star - Ahhhh-Ohhh,” his yelp faded into a gasp, which trickled into a breathless moan as Tony planted a firm kiss to the swirl of muscle between his thighs, sucking ever so slightly before promptly laving his tongue in a fat, wet stripe upwards.

“No idea what it does to me, kiddo. Seeing my name there. Marked on you forever. Marking you as mine,” Tony spoke against him, licking and kissing thoroughly between his words as Peter scrabbled at the tiles, desperately trying to keep himself from rocking back against Tony’s tongue.

One of Tony’s hands left his ass to stroke across his flank, delicate in its search before wrapping around his cock with a surprising firmness. Peter’s hips immediately jumping forwards into the grip and his moan was staggered as Tony paired it with a thrust of his tongue.

He mewled, embarrassingly high and and desperate as he threw one hand back, sliding his fingers gently into Tony’s hair. It was soft, far more silken than he had expected for something that stuck up in odd places when not professionally attacked by a stylist. 

Tony gave a soft sound of encouragement, nipping at him and sliding his hand up to stroke at the tip of his flushed cock.

“Mr. Stark, please,” he gasped, fingers twisting lightly in the soft, dark locks and hips stuttering minutely between Tony’s hot, wet tongue and his firm, slow grip. He wasn’t going to last; not with Tony Stark finally touching him. Not with the scrape of his stubble and the husk of his voice.

Tony chuckled against him, the vibrations making Peter shudder before he rose slowly, kissing a wet path from the small of Peter’s back to his shoulders, never stopping in stroking him slowly, firmly. 

“So eager, sweetheart. So precious,” Tony breathed against his skin, his hand leaving Peter’s hip to fumbled between them, knuckles brushing the round meat of his ass as he tugged his belt free of its buckle.

The slap of cold metal made Peter jolt, hips bucking in Tony’s grip and wrenching a whine from his throat as Tony squeezed him lightly, dipping his thumb into the tip and pushing at the bead of pre-cum that oozed there. 

“Steady, darling,” Tony huffed into his ear, the smirk audible in his voice. Peter opened his mouth to reply, but then there was the sudden feel of a thick, long cock resting in the line of his asscheeks, heavy and hot and he could do nothing but groan weakly.

“Hush, sweetheart. I’m not gonna take you apart yet. Not here. When I do that, you’ll be on my bed, spread out and sloppy for me,” Tony soothed, jerking him off in steady, tight strokes as he rocked his hips, dragging his cock between Peter’s asscheeks with a soft hiss of pleasure.

Tony flattened against his back, careless of the fact that Peter was still dripping water as he nuzzled into his neck, one hand roaming from Peter’s asscheek to his own cock and back, petting and stroking.

 Peter could feel the slow, hot build of an orgasm coiling in his gut, could feel his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping still as he let his head fall back onto Tony’s shoulder with a feeble  gasp.

Tony pressed open-mouthed kisses to his temple, training down to his neck where he nipped softly as he thrust against him, a seemingly never-ending, thick drag of heavy cock that Peter instantly wished was buried deep within him. 

Tony’s moans were deep, slow things, soft in his ear as he pushed his hips back, arching his spine to give Tony a better, tighter angle.

“Fuck, sweetheart. So good for me. That’s it,” Tony purred, one hand dropping to briefly pinch over his tattoo, speeding up his hand and his thrusts as they moved together. It was Tony’s cock catching on his rim that did it, pressing there briefly as though he was slide right in, paired with the ragged gasp the older man gave at the sensation.

Peter’s hips stuttered forwards and his high moan pitched into a yelp as Tony gave him a rough down-stroke, his cock jumping in his grip before painting the tiles in milky splashes. Peter shook in Tony’s hold, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving as Tony worked him through it, continued to chase his own pleasure.

“My sweet boy. All branded as mine, coming on my cock and my touch. Look at you, baby. So good. So good, Peter. Fuck. Seeing my name, my writing on your ass… I’m gonna ruin you later,” Tony promised, voice ragged, hand falling from Peter’s cock to squeeze his ass, thumb sliding over the signature as he chased his own orgasm. Peter fell breathless against the cool tile, rocking back against the firm, heavy slide of Tony’s cock.

“Please, Tony. Fuck me. Mark me. Take me,” he rambled, breath hitching as Tony pulled back with a groan, nails digging into his ass. 

The older man looked down, managing to pull his hips back and angle his cock in just enough time to paint thick ropes of cum right over his tattoo, the thick, creamy liquid sliding over the ink wetly. Peter let out another mewl, his cock twitching feebly at the thought as Tony panted behind him.

There was a fumble, the rustle of fabric, and Peter opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder in time to see Tony snap a photo of it. His cheeks burned with arousal and humiliation, but Tony dived forwards, capturing his mouth in a firm, wet kiss. 

Peter was breathless by the time Tony pulled back, the corners of his mouth tingling with stubble burn.

“Marked as mine. Twice,” Tony murmured into his cheek, pressing another soft kiss there.

[tuttifuckinfruttifriday]

Freddy may be a killer nightmare, but he didn't want to harm her, he wanted to raise her and train her to be a living nightmare just like him. He'd even talk to Malon like he was her own. He was over by the lake at the docks, until he noticed Jason coming from behind. Freddy didn't know what business Jason has until she peeps with excitement. Freddy would be shocked and confused like, "how". Freddy threatened him if he comes any closer, he'll drop her into the lake. (I'll tell you the rest)

Pairing: Jason Voorheese x MJ, Jason Voorheese x Baby Malon, Freddy Krueger x Baby Malon

Warnings: Dark intentions, kidnapping, gore, censored curse words because it’s Freddy, me getting carried away, ooc Freddy, small FreddyVSJason mention, mention of infertility

So sorry it took so long D:!

I probably did some mistakes, and it’s probably not that good... so don’t hesitate to tell me❤️

—

He was totally devastated. His baby girl, in the hands of the only living person who detested him more than anything: Freddy Krueger, The Nightmare. Jason never thought he’d see him again, after the fight they had a long time ago. But he was more than ready to take back what’s his.

Passing his devastated wife, he stopped in his track. He just had the best idea. It was risky and he wasn’t even sure he was there, but he would do anything for her. Kissing MJ’s forehead with a silent promise to get their baby back, he went in their bedroom, getting her electronic watch he found her when they first started dating. He tapped the small alarm button on the side, putting the timer at 40 minutes. There was no backing out now.

—DreamWorld—

While he did that, Malon was confused, the now 1 year old looking around at the strange place.. It wasn’t the forest where her and her parents lived, but a strange room with hot pipes and chains that dangled from the ceiling all around. She was scared, not having any idea of how she got there, or where ‘there’ was. She wanted her daddy—!

“Well hello there, little girl. Are you lost?...”

A gasp escaped her small lips at the voice, the location now being a park, like the one her mommy takes her to sometime. Wasn’t... wasn’t she in the hot room 2 seconds ago..? Before she had the time to think anything more of it, her eyes catches the figure of a really kind looking man coming toward her, a concerned face on him. “Hey there!”

⬇️

⬆️

The man said in a soft voice, a goofy smile on his face. Malon, being the curious little girl she is, decided to greet him with the cutest toothless smile, almost forgetting about how she doesn’t know where she is. The stranger’s smile softened before he asked her for her name, which she told him, his trusting face fooling the naive redhead. “Malon? That’s a beautiful name, darling! Where are your parents..?” Her smile got bigger at the pet name, but she shook her head. Her smile disappeared as she shrugged, tears coming to her eyes. “Oh.. don’t cry! I’m sure they’re here somewhere. Why don’t we wait for them here?” She nodded immediately, fooled by what he said and the kids that were now playing in the park. Maybe if she stayed there they would come and get her... So for some time, they sat on a wooden bench and they talked, Malon telling him parts of her life. The only problem, is that she didn’t know that she shouldn’t trust so easily, since her parents hadn’t thought about giving her the talk to not talk to strangers....

Some time later, they decided (more like Freddy decided) that they’d look for her parents since they weren’t coming. So they got up, Fred holding her small hand at first. “So... what’s your name, mister?” Like he remembered something, his face lightened. “Ah, so silly of me! I’m Freddy, but you can call me Fred since my friends call me that.” He said, the last part more playful as he booped her nose, starting to become soft for the small being beside him as she giggled. “Okay, mister Fred!” A toothy grin came to his lips, showing his now slowly rotting teeth, as he let go of her hand, walking a little behind her as he put a hand on her back. But his grin was soon replaced with a darker expression as his plan came back to him. -He wanted someone to take his place someday, and evidently he didn’t have anybody, so the small child would do.....-

Jason was panicking, the timer on his wrist indicating that he has only 5 minutes left. He started to become desperate, thinking that he would never find his child again.

Until he heard a giggle, her giggles.

He never ran that fast all his undead life, his feet making dents in the ‘dream dirt’. When the giggles became louder and finally stopped, he does too, his eyes falling onto the figures of Malon and his enemy. Glancing back down, his eyes widened when he saw that he only have 2 minutes left. So he hid in the trees as he approached more and more, seeing Freddy changing into his real form, his burnt skin replacing his once clear and normal one, his beard disappearing as he threw his glasses away, his clothings changing into his iconic ones. Then, his glove appeared on his hand, the knives on his fingers shining in the sun as he moves them around behind the small girl’s back.

That’s when Jason strikes. He jumps on the demon, which didn’t have the time to sense him attack. He stays on the ground after some time, kind of in shocked and really confused. Why would the undead f**ker have anything to do with the kid?? He can’t even have one!

30seconds.

“Daddy!” The small redhead jumped on her father, giving him a big hug as he hugged her closer, waiting for the watch to go off while still watching Freddy recovering from the fall. But the moment Jason blinked, he had disappeared.

A searing pain ripped through his back as he hugged the girl tighter, feeling his blood running down his scarred back, the fabric of his shirt tearing with a sharp sound. A scared whimper escaped Malon’s mouth as her green eyes widened, feeling her dad hugging her tighter against his chest.

5seconds.

Without even realizing it, as Freddy still swiped at him, Jason doing his best to escape his claws as he protects the girl he hold against him, he takes The Nightmare’s wrist and hold it in his hand—

—RealWorld—

Malon got up with a gasp, realizing that she was sleeping, but immediately let out a scream as she saw Freddy still battling with Jason on the floor.

“Jay? What’s all that— HOLY—!” MJ backed out of the room as she fell to the floor, never having seen any thing or anybody as scary as the being on the ground. This was what took their daughter?! She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw them still fighting, her husband obviously not wanting him to hurt any of them.

Then, Freddy did something Jason never hoped he did again. He swiped Malon in his arms and ran out of the door, having the almost perfect plan. Jason obviously ran after him, his wife screaming in the background as she was pushed to the ground by the attack, seeing her daughter being taken away again. He couldn’t take it, his blood boiling as he ran with all he could, stopping at the docks where the Crystal lake is. “Dad-daddy..?!—“ “Shut the f**k up, you little f**king brat!” The badmouthed demon put the small girl closer to the water, scaring Jason as he was frozen in place. “You come any closer Momma’s Boy, and I’ll throw your f**king kid.”

Fortunately for Jason, before Freddy could do anything, a low growl was heard, almost scaring the demon to death(again). A creature, which Jason and Malon where really happy to see... Mama Bear.

Since his grip loosen, Malon ran toward her dad, him taking her in his arms and hugging her close, not wanting to let her go anytime soon, as MJ appeared, running toward them at full speed. Nobody minded what was happening with Freddy, hearing him letting out some cries and hearing claws swiping.

The only thing that mattered was that their family was finally reunited again, and that they were never going to let their child out of their sights.

[theparanormalperiodical]

31 Celebrity Ghost Stories You NEED To Read On Halloween Night (Or Any Time Of The Year, Screw The System)

*Puts on old professor glasses*

For generations we have been in awe of the celebrity.

*strokes beard*

For generations we have trodden their paths, followed their scents, and watched with wandering eyes exactly what they do - and all in the name of escapism.

Since the conception of humankind we have sought to understand what makes the rich and famous both rich and famous. Our philosophers decode mannerisms, our magazine editors calculate their every mistake, and the rest of us simply gaze up at the stars wondering how, why, and what we share in common with the glorified among us.

But you see-

*walks across the Ted Talk stage*

-they are just like us.

They make mistakes, they compare themselves to others, and yes, they even suck in their stomachs when trying on their new TopShop crop top and then shove it in the back of their sock drawer convinced their lower belly will always have too fat.

But even more than that, they have experiences with the paranormal.

*pulls up a chair and sits on it backwards cause for some reason people think it looks actually idk how people think it looks but whatever back to the imagery*

And so, on this Halloween night, we celebrate what brings us all together - no matter how much cash nor clout one has.

Shall we?

Miley Cyrus

During her 2009 Europe tour, Cyrus stayed in a flat in London - a flat that she claims was haunted.

"It was seriously so terrifying. It used to be an old bakery and they turned it into an apartment building, and I was having really crazy dreams and really scary things, and one night my little sister–it sounds crazy to tell you–but she was standing in the shower and all of a sudden I hear her scream.

I run in there and the water had somehow flipped to hot but it was still...It wasn’t like the water had just changed, the knob had turned but she hadn’t turned it and it was burning her.”

In the same bathroom Cyrus was convinced she saw a little boy sitting on the sink whilst she was showering. A series of other unexplained events took place until they delved into the family history of the bakery: it was passed down for generations from father to son. Cyrus believed she saw the last son to be left the bakery.

Cher

Turns out Cher doesn’t just believe in life after love but life after death, too.

The music legend herself is convinced that her late husband, Sonny, who died in 1998 is still making his presence known to her.

She claims his spirit has a habit of turning lights on to remind her he is there and often does this to her chandelier - even when there is no power.

“I love ghosts, I prefer ghosts to some people.”

Anna Nicole Smith

This late Playboy bunny was known for her bombshell sex appeal and scandalous career - but what about her forays into the supernatural?

"A ghost would crawl up my leg and have sex with me at an apartment a long time ago in Texas. I used to think it was my boyfriend, and one day I woke up and it wasn’t. It was, like, a spirit and it—woo! [miming a ghost flying from her bedsheets]—went up!

I was freaked out about it, but then I was, like, 'Well, you know what? He’s never hurt me and he just gave me some amazing sex so I have no problem.'"

When the interviewer asked her whether it was merely a dream Smith replied that it was happening every single night.

Kesha

Just like Smith, Kesha’s own experience with the paranormal is rather more sexual.

In her own words she went to the “bone zone” with a ghost.

"I don't know his name. He just started caressing me. It was a sexy time, it wasn't, like, sex."

Emma Stone

Back in 2014 Stone revealed on a late night talk show that the spirit of her grandfather often leaves quarters for her to find.

In fact, she claimed her family has a history of the small change - and its legacy clearly goes beyond the grave.

La Toya Jackson

Michael Jackson’s death is one of the most striking moments in modern history - but it turns out the King of Pop might also be the King of the Paranormal.

La Toya often claims she feels strong presences in the Jacksons’ childhood home and frequently shares about the supernatural activity coming from MJ’s old room. Many visitors, staff members, and family members have heard tap dancing coming from the room, even when they didn’t know who it used to belong to.

It was in this room that Michael would tap dance for two hours every sunday.

Susan Boyle

Boyle often recounts that she lost several members of her closest family within the span of a few short years and felt abandoned by her family. But in a 2011 interview she claimed she sees her mother’s spirit around her house, believing it to be a reminder from beyond the grave that she is not alone.

Megan Fox

"I was just in Mexico at my hotel and it was a bedroom, living room, bedroom...I had pre-ordered breakfast for 7:30, and at 7 a.m. I hear them come in with the table, I hear them pouring the coffee…

30 minutes later, at 7:30 I went in there, no table, no coffee, no food, no nothing, no one there. Door bell rings, I open the door, it's room service with my food...Brandy the nanny comes out later and says, 'Why did room service come at 7 when we told them to come at 7:30?' So you can't tell me I'm crazy, because two people heard it."

Ariana Grande

This paranormal enthusiast was visiting one of the gates of hell - Stull Cemetery - when she felt a sudden surge of negative energy around her. Flies suddenly appeared in the car and she smelt a strong odour of sulphur.

Both are symptoms of dark, demonic energy.

As they drove off she ‘apologised’ to the spirits for disturbing the peace and took a couple of pictures of the area before they left. She saw clear demonic faces in the image. When she tried to send it to her manager as proof of the strange goings on, the picture couldn’t be sent.

Why?

Because it was 666 megabytes.

Joan Rivers

This comedian’s old Manhattan apartment might be worth $28 million but it's far more famous for the supernatural entities within its walls than its price tag.

In one iconic episode of Celebrity Ghost Stories Rivers claims she even brought in a voodoo priestess to help a former resident, ‘Mr Spencer’, pass on.

Marilyn Manson

Just like Rivers, Marilyn Manson told his own paranormal experience on CGS. But his story had less spirits and more, you know, Satan.

Pressured by his peers into reading demonic incantations in a supposedly haunted basement, Manson claims he then heard demonic whispers around him asking if he believed in Satan.

Alyson Hannigan

Hannigan might be known for her Wiccan ways on the TV screen in Buffy The Vampire Slayer, but her encounters with the paranormal aren’t just captured by our favourite streaming services.

Back in 2003 Hannigan claimed she lived in a haunted house - but she believes the spirit is friendly.  

“My friend saw him first one night. She said, 'I don't mean to alarm you, but I just saw a man follow us out of the house.' “

"Later that night I saw this silhouette of a man standing in the bathroom doorway. I was like, 'Sweetie, what are you doing?' I thought it was [fiance] Alexis [Denisof]. But then I looked and Alexis was asleep next to me.”

Nicolas Cage

Yes, the most memed actor in Hollywood has faced a series of paranormal experiences, too. In 2007 Cage purchased one of the most haunted houses in America in a bid to get inspired to write the latest horror novel.

He bought the LaLaurie Mansion in New Orleans, a house belonging to one of the 19th century’s most infamous serial killers.

Many believe the slaves tortured by Delphine LaLaurie still haunt the mansion. Perhaps Cage heard the wails and moans of her victims, or maybe he felt the demonic presence rumoured to have taken part in a murder of a tenant in 1894?

Demi Lovato

Lovato often makes mention of her beliefs in the paranormal - especially when it comes to her haunted house in Texas. She claims a young girl named Emily haunts her home in the South, and has even mentioned that she was a childhood ‘friend’ when she was growing up.

But this tale has to be the most terrifying:

"One of my friends, Tucker, came over one time and he asked, 'So your house is haunted?' I said, 'Yeah, just watch. Something will happen. Something always happens.' We started to watch a movie when all of a sudden a laptop in my kitchen started to play a movie also. It was a black screen before, so it was a question of who turned it on and hit play.

And after that Tucker texted a friend saying, 'I think this house is haunted, a movie just turned on by itself,' and there was a 'glitch' in his phone that kept texting him back the word 'definitely' over and over again. That happened about 30 times."

Peter Jackson

Jackson might be known for putting mystical and magical creatures on the big screen, but he’s seen similar things in real life, too.

"One night I woke up and there was a figure in the room. She was really scary—her face was like a silent scream. She glided across the room and disappeared into the wall." He told Fran in the morning and she said, "'Was it the woman with a screaming face?’ We had never spoken about it. 

She had seen the same ghost two years earlier. So I do believe in some energy, a spirit or a soul..."

Kendrick Lamar

From one famous rapper to another:

Lamar told Home Grown Radio that he had a dream about Tupac Shakur - a dream he believed conveyed a message from beyond. In the dream Tupac told him “Keep doing what you doing, don’t let my music die.”

Keanu Reeves

He’s one of the internet’s favourite celebrities - but what isn’t so famous about this Matrix star is his paranormal experience from when he was living in NYC.

"I'm probably like six, seven years old, we'd come from Australia. Renata, [our] nanny, in the bedroom, my sister is asleep, she's sitting over there, I'm hanging out. There was a doorway and all of a sudden this jacket comes waving through the doorway, this empty jacket — there's no body, there's no legs, it's just there. And then it disappears..."

The nanny saw the exact same thing.

Adele

Ghost nuns are not only on-trend but also terrify-ing. Adele can testify to that. In 2012 the singer moved into a plush Sussex mansion which used to be a convent.

A couple creepy noises later and she hired around-the-clock security to protect her against the paranormal activity. Who knows what she might’ve seen in her new $6 million home?

Matthew McConaughey

McConaughey claims his Hollywood mansion was haunted by an unhappy female spirit by the name of Madame Blu.

"I was not even under the influence and she was there. She wasn't that happy, it didn't seem like she was going to be much fun to hang around or have in my house, so I went ahead and stood my ground. I opened the door and said 'You can move around all you want but I'm not going anywhere.'"

"For weeks everyone that came to the house said the same thing: 'There's someone down in that hall, there's somebody down in that hall.'"

Ryan Gosling

Most of the celebs that made this list whip out their charming ‘lil spooky story to pique interest in their latest career venture. Gosling’s story, however, is actually pretty f*cking scary.

One day, in his childhood home, he saw a ghost of a young boy.

"He just sat. And I knew from a very young age that he was a ghost, too. He scared me. I told my mother, but she couldn't see him. Nobody could. And I learned to live with that. I had to…

Then, a few years later, [my mother] thought she saw him, then almost right away my cousin saw him, and then my uncle. And we were outta there in fairly short order."

Laura Linney

Linney is one of Hollywood’s most cherished actresses - and even on the stage she has witnessed something from the other side.

She became a believer in the paranormal after working in the Belasco Theater on Broadway.

"I had forgotten this, and I was doing a play with Jane Alexander, and I turned to Jane Alexander, and I looked up to the upper balcony—there are two balconies there—and the upper balcony you can only get in from the outside, and those doors were locked; and I looked up, and there was a woman standing in the front row looking over with a blue dress and blonde hair.

I just thought, 'Well, hello!' I looked back at Jane, and I looked back up, and she was gone. I went to the house manager and I said, 'Joe, I think I saw a ghost.' And he went, 'male or female?' I said, 'female.' And he went, 'blue dress, blonde hair?'"

Megan Mullally

Another famous ghost that haunts a famous face features on this list. But this time the paranormal activity described by Mullally is certainly the most tragic.

She claims she lived in a house haunted by the spirit of Nicole Brown Simpson who was murdered in 1994. She believes that only when her husband watched the American Crime Story series about her death did the strange occurrences (most of which were odd and unexplained sounds) settle.

Kristen Stewart

Only last year our very own Bella Swan opened up not just about her own experiences with ghosts, but her own spiritual connection with other people.

“If I’m in a weird, small town, making a movie, and I’m in a strange apartment, I will literally be like, ‘No, please, I cannot deal. Anyone else, but it cannot be me.’ Who knows what ghosts are, but there is an energy that I’m really sensitive to. Not just with ghosts, but with people. People stain rooms all the time.”

Carrie Fisher

Carrie Fisher lived an extraordinary life. She was one of the few a-listers to openly discuss her struggles with mental health and drug use before it became so accepted in mainstream society. Unfortunately, these topics would haunt her in a rather more supernatural manner, too.

Following the overdose of a friend sleeping next to her in her mansion, Fisher claimed she would often feel their presence around her.

"Lights would go on and off, and I had this toy machine, that when you touched it would say, 'F*ck you! Eat sh*t! You’re an asshole!' And it would go off in the night, by itself, in my closet.”

She later hired an exorcist to cleanse the house of the spirit.

Halle Berry

Whilst filming Introducing Dorothy Dandridge, Berry would experience intense paranormal activity she believed was down to her dress.

A dress formerly owned by the woman titling the film.

"I'd come home and the housekeeper would say she'd heard my vanity chair moving upstairs in the bathroom. When the film was over, I desperately wanted to keep her dress, but it had to go. And then everything was fine."

Lady Gaga

Just like Kendrick Lamar, Lady Gaga has had her own dealings with the spirit of an icon. But instead of rap legend Tupac, she got the late fashion designer Alexander McQueen.

"Right after he died, I wrote 'Born This Way.' I think he's up in heaven with fashion strings in his hands, marionetting away, planning this whole thing…

I didn't even write the f*king song. He did!"

Melissa McCarthy

Comedian Melissa McCarthy revealed in 2016 that she believed in ghosts - and gave insight into where her beliefs came from.

"I grew up on a farm and I didn't have any real friends,

I have a very strong belief that people are out there, because I was certainly talking to someone in those barns. Otherwise I'm just crazy. I really strongly believe in ghosts."

Jessica Alba

In 2008, Alba told US Weekly about her own encounter with the paranormal when she was a child.

“I felt this pressure and I couldn’t get up, I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t do anything

Something definitely took the covers off me and I definitely couldn’t get off the bed, and then, once I did, I screamed, ran to my parents’ room and I don’t think I spent many nights in that house ever again.”

Jenna Bush Hager

The White House already has a reputation for its paranormal activity (Abe Lincoln often makes a reappearance during times of crisis) and this former first daughter has evidence to support such a claim.

"I was asleep, there was a fireplace in my room and all of a sudden I heard 1920's music coming out. I could feel it. I freaked out and ran into my sister's room. She was like, 'Please go back to sleep, this is ridiculous.'"

Lucy Liu

This Charlie’s Angel - like so many of the people included in this article - claims she had sexual relations with something supernatural.

“I felt everything. I climaxed. And then he floated away.”

Bella Thorne

"I was lying in bed when I saw a shadowy, silvery figure of an old woman creeping across my room, then it slipped into my closet…

I panicked and ran out of bed and swung open my closet door only to see she was in there. But she was gone. I was sure I had seen her ghost! It was really freaky."

Do you believe ‘em?

If you liked this post be sure to like, reblog, and hit the follow button! 

Got your own paranormal experience to share? Head on over to the peoplesparanormal.com to read real ghost stories and submit your own!

Happy Halloween, lads.

[marvelgiggles]

Still Scared of Monsters

Bucky!sister reader x Peter Parker

I know I have other prompts to work on but this has been sitting in my drafts for such a long time I just wanted to finish it.

“Y/N! Stop doing that!” Peter groaned as you scared him once again. You’ve been scaring him the last couple days. It was so easy to make him jump and scream, you were having too much fun to stop.

“It’s not my problem you scare easy Parker.” You gloated. He tried to get you back a couple of times but you didn’t get scared. Your big brother was Bucky Barnes, there was no way that you could get scared. While he wasn’t your brother by blood, he was in every other aspect. You were abducted as a child and became HYDRA’s first female solider. Bucky was responsible for training you and when he was rescued by the Avengers, he made it his personal mission to rescue you from HYDRA.

It took a while to get you to where you are today. There were a lot of tears, frustration, sleepless nights, and more mental battles than you could count to let all of the damage HYDRA had caused you. Now you lived at the Avengers compound with everyone and you went to school with Peter, who instantly became one of your best friends, alongside Ned and MJ.  

“Yeah, well it’s still not fair.” Peter whined as he started making his way to the training room, where he saw Bucky sparring with Steve.

“Hey Peter. Why are you so upset?” Steve asked noting the frustrated look on Peter’s face.

“Y/N won’t stop scaring me at school, around the compound and while I try and get her back nothing works.” He huffed while he started to practice shooting his webs at target that would pop up around the training room. He heard a chuckle from their direction and saw Bucky quickly turn away. “What?”

“Parker, she was a HYDRA solider for most of her life. There isn’t anything in the world that could scare her.” Steve said.

“Well actually there is one thing.” Bucky finally spoke up.

“What? What is it?” Peter asked a little too quickly.

“I don’t know if I should tell you. If she found out I told you I would fear for my life.” Bucky said not wanting to imagine how you would punish him for telling Peter.

“Please Mr. Barnes. She’s been scaring me for three solid weeks, I deserve to get my revenge.” Peter practically was on his knees begging Bucky to give up your weakness.

“Well let’s just say she never gotten over her fear of one monster.” Bucky said with a smirk. “One that evokes laughter.” Peter our two and two together and left the training room on the hunt for you and planning how he would get his revenge.

Peter late found you sitting in the living room curled in a blanket watching Toy Story 2, he knew you always loved Disney movies. He joined to you on the couch just waiting for the right moment to strike. While he was trying to think of the perfect way to get his revenge, you casually put your feet in his lap that wasn’t out of the ordinary but Peter couldn’t believe his luck. You practically walked right into what you had coming, right before he was about to strike he noticed you flinched a little, he looked up at you and saw you cheeks were pink.  Peter quickly looked at the screen and noticed it was the scene where Jessie was tickling Woody, Peter smirked at you. “What’s the matter Y/N?” He asked you at your embarrassed state. 

“Nothing.” You muttered into your blanket. Suddenly you felt a finger trail up your foot and you gasped pulling your foot backwards.

“Wait you're not ticklish are you Y/N?” Peter asked you as he went to grab your foot again. You looked at him with terror in your eyes as you frantically shook your head no and pulled you feet closer to your body. “They why do you look so scared.” Peter quickly grabbed both of your ankles so you were lying on your back, he quickly sat on top of your waist. “Okay, Y/N let’s try this again. Are you ticklish or not? If you won’t tell me I guess I will just have to find out for myself.” Peter said as he started to poke around your stomach. You bit down on your lip trying not to let out the giggles that your body wanted you too. “It sure looks like it to me.” Peter sang as he slowly started to use his fingers more than just simply poking your stomach. 

“Nuhuh.” You grunted still determined not to give Peter the pleasure of your laughter. You were trying to twist away and get out of his grip not wanting to submit to your greatest and deadliest weakness. Peter seemed to get annoyed that you weren’t laughing yet so his hands wandered out to your sides instead and your grunting got more frequent but you were still determined not to laugh.

“Come on Y/N. You know you want to laugh. It would make this so much easier on yourself.” You were getting so frustrated with yourself, you used to be a HYDRA solider, Peter should be this close to breaking you. You endured worse, that was sad to think about but it was true. Peter was slowly and methodically walking his fingers up your sides. You finally couldn’t take it anymore and began to laugh as you frantically batted at his hands trying to get him to stop. “You have such a pretty laugh Y/N. Maybe I should do this more often.” 

“Nohohohoho. StahahaHAHAP!” You cried you laughter also went up and octave and went silent with laughter as he started to squeeze the bottom of your ribcage. You weren’t even able to try amd get Peter off of you, he was tickling one of you ‘death’ spots. Where your laughter turned silent and all you could do was stand there and take the torment you were receiving.

“Well this is no fun if I can’t hear your laughter.” Peter said as he gave you a little mercy as he stopped tickling you.

“There are other ways to make me laugh.” You said in between the giggles still coming out of your mouth.

“I know but this is more fun for me and since you haven’t stopped scaring me this is you punishment.” He smirked evilly and reach his hands behind him to squeeze your knees and the squeal you let out sounded unhuman before frantic laughter. You aggressively kicked your legs trying to knock his hands off, which you did but his hands ended up in your inner thighs. Peter gave an experimental squeeze and your laughter continued. As you couldn’t contain your laughter. “Are you ready to apologize for scaring me yet?” You shook your head no. “Fine.” Peter’s hands left your legs and shot back to your stomach. “Look at this ticklish spot. This ticklish spot. And this ticklish spot.” Peter kept saying as he rapidly moved his hands across your entire upper body, leaving no space untouched.

“I YIHEHEHEHELD! STAHAHAHAHAP! I’HIHIHIHIM SOHOHOHOHOHORRY!” You screamed desperately so he would stop his torment of your nervous system. Peter got off of you and sat on the opposite end of the couch like nothing happened. You were still lying on your back regaining your breath.

“Well done Peter looks like you got your revenge.” Steve said walking into the kitchen with Bucky trailing behind him.

“You traitor.” You gasped. Bucky starts making his way towards you and looks over the back of the couch with a gleam in his eyes that made you want to run but you were still to exhausted to move.

“Should I show Peter the other way to make you laugh.” You gulped and shook your head no. “Well since you told Peter there were other ways of making you laugh, I might as well so him for next time.” Bucky quickly pulled you up into his arms so your back was pressed against his chest and you felt his beard in the crease of your neck and he started to rub his beard back and forth. You started to kick your legs again and try to touch your ear to your shoulder so Bucky would stop, instead he decided to blow a few raspberries there as well. This made you giggle like a Tickle Me Elmo doll. After a while Bucky finally dropped you back on the couch. “Well I guess the nickname Tickle Me Y/N still works.” He quickly kissed you forehead as your eyes started to droop of exhaustion. You felt someone pick you up and you tensed thinking you were going to be tickled again.

“Ssssh. Y/N. I have plenty of time to tickle you later. It’s okay just rest.” You heard Peter whisper in your ear as he laid you on his chest. You knew this was true and you would definetly be careful of pranking and messing with him. Suddenly you felt warmer as Peter covered you both with the blanket you were using earlier and you both drifted off to sleep.

[cabin-fever-bang]

Campfire Stories (Vol. 1)

Welcome to the Cabin! We proudly present the first edition of Campfire Stories: your one-stop shop for quality quarantine content. 

We’re going to do these regularly, with in-depth reviews of everything that’s been submitted as a prompt fill and additional recommendations from the masterlists of writers who get involved. 

If you’d like to be one of those writers, just follow us, comb through our prompts, and be sure to tag us when you post! It’s that easy. We welcome all fandoms and pairings. 

This batch of reviews was cooked up by @thoughtslikeaminefield​ (MJ), @there-must-be-a-lock​ (Lou), @itmighthavebeenintentional​ (Val), @fangirlxwritesx67​ (Viv), @cracksinthewalls​ (Bri), and @mskathywriteswords​ (Kathy), but we encourage you to pass along the random acts of writer-love and reblog with your own additions! 

Pull up a seat, toast a marshmallow or two, and settle in for some excellent reading material.

Choices We Make - @becs-bunker​ - GIF prompt submitted by  @dawnie1988​ 

Pairing: Demon Dean x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, brief threat & violence, smut, language, dub con-ish, unprotected sex, orgasm denial

Words: 1374

Everyone loves a Demon!Dean fic, and this is a good one! Lots of action, lots of angst, and some really hot, awful Dean.

Honestly it all felt like some surreal nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. You just wanted Dean back, your Dean.

These lines summarize both the Demon!Dean story arc and the narrator's frame of mind so well, pulling the reader right into the perspective of the story.

“I missed you, y’know?” Dean sighed, and the naive part of you wished he was telling the truth. That somehow, deep down, he still loved you.

This is heartbreaking because it's relatable, because the author does such a good job with the narrator's voice.

Dean licked his lips and there was a familiar hunger in his green eyes that made a whole different sensation rise in your body, and it wasn’t fear.

I'm not going to quote any more lines from the story because the author has written one hell of a twist, but trust me when I said, I gasped out loud reading it. The rest of this story is an absolute roller coaster, well worth the ride.

- Viv

Come For Me - @fangirlxwritesx67​ - image prompts created and submitted by @idabbleincrazy​

Pairing: Sam Winchester x female reader 

Warnings: smut, canon level violence, fingering, first time together

Words: 3100

First, let’s talk about this aesthetic. It’s soft and beautiful, but stark and needy. I love the quotes and photos, the way they flow together. Fantastic visual prompt. "Sam Winchester?” He spoke in a theatrical, mocking tone. “Ooooh, I’m frightened." This line made me chuckle. I love the idea of what’s ahead of us. The bad guy is built up in a hilarious way. Sam is presented through the heart and mind of the narrator, you. But thinking of Sam suffused you with a warm confidence. Not for one moment did you doubt him. This confidence is contagious and warming. Meanwhile, the anxiety over the vampire lurking somewhere else, waiting to taste you… it builds in a beautiful and believable way. There’s a rush of emotions as Sam rescues you, and he’s patient and kind, even while making jokes and being the Sam you know and love. Things progress, and there’s a beautiful and sweet (okay, and hot!) sex scene, with a first time between Sam and you. All in all, a really solid piece, with some story, some tension, some sex, and a whole lot of sweetness.

- Kathy

A New Day - @becs-bunker​ - image prompt created and submitted by @there-must-be-a-lock​

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Warnings: fluff

I’ve not reviewed an image prompt before, so let’s just jump in. The first word that jumps to my mind is light, but I love how suffused and golden the whole image is. Softer, safer, intimate. There are little pinpoints of light, rays of light, shining light, and the whole thing makes me feel...well...light. Sunrise and candlelight, new day, new beginnings. 

The images chosen for Sam, the angles and features we get, are such close, personal angles and shots, giving us this tender atmosphere and setting the tone for this story: personal. Everything you're about to read is intimate, personal, and private, in such a lovely, delicate way. 

The curtains in that first shot are so filmy and ethereal, and the whole story feels like it’s set in a kind of golden-hazed forest. And, let’s face it, any sort of vacation for a Winchester is a kind of fairy tale. 

I’ve managed to stay pretty much above the brow, so Imma have to dip down for a minute and just drool over Sam’s trapezius muscles. Oh. MY. GAWD.

Golden, glorious, graceful, and just a touch of gooey. Good, good, good.

So, right off the bat, let me tell you that this story is everything I’ve ever wanted for Sam, like everything the show and Chuck and the universe has ever denied him. He’s rested, he’s comforted, he’s bathed in glow (the sun, the reader’s love, all that jazz, you know?).

And then it goes and hits all my camping weaknesses. I was literally just telling someone how I’m missing my camp more than ever now. It’s been eight years since I’ve been, and this story brings back all those feelings of serenity and calm, voluntary isolation with people you more or less chose, because camp was and is my forever real home.

I know that seems a little rambly and off-topic, but the thing is, that’s what this story is for me. They aren’t at the bunker, their “home,” but they’re still home all the same, because (and, yes, you can shoot me for this) home is where your heart is, so this wonderful little cabin in the woods is home, whether they’ve been there together once or a hundred times because Sam.

And then that bit of sugar tossed in at the end...Oh, this story was good for my soul. “Warm mug of coffee on a chill morning, under a blanket” kind of good for my soul. 

It’s one of those where I would love to have so much more of these two, of this warmth between them, but I also am perfectly content to know them just in this one perfect moment forever, before the day starts, when everything is still in the “it’s about to happen and it will be great” stages. The beginning of a great new day.

Thank you. I needed this story, now more than ever.

- Val

Crash  - @myinconnelly1​ - requested by @adoptdontshoppets​ for @idreamofplaid​ aesthetic

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: smut, fluff

Words: 810

The first thing that draws my eye in the aesthetic is the linked fingers. I love pinky links (I’m sure there’s a less cutesy way to say it, but I like it; sue me). They’re sweet, and really personal. You’ve got super tough Dean Winchester who isn’t embarrassed or afraid of intimate, goofy gestures. In fact, I feel like that would one hundred percent be Dean in a relationship: Dean is a giant ball of goofy, intimate gestures. 

I love the choices of relaxed, bearded Dean/Jensen paired with the casual, cool color palette immediately set me at ease. This isn’t going to be a terrifying, angsty ordeal. This is going to be calm, soothing, sensual. 

And the roses, the sand, the surf, the candlelight, the pokey palm tree fronds...I can hear, smell, feel every bit of these images. The golden-pink wine...ugh. This whole experience is a trip to paradise.

I love how all five senses are emphasized and made equally important. It gives us so much more connection to the moment, makes it that much more intimate. The constant crashing of the waves in the background; the bittersweet chocolate; the cozy, homey image of the baking-wrecked kitchen followed by the much more erotic, candelit bedroom; and then the scent of the oil mixed with the warmth and strength of Dean’s touch.

I also love the level of comfort in the story. We have the cookies, a hard-core comfort staple. We have the warm, lazy beach setting. And the easiness these two have together: that’s the dream, my friend. I love how they have no trouble at all communicating what they want and need, how they are comfortable enough to be messy and cute and flirty and sexy, one right after the other. 

And the description is so thorough, I have no trouble at all imagining myself there, in that wonderful, relaxing moment.

This story is relaxing, decadent, soothing, and fun all at once. I am a huge fan of the ending, as well. I was smiling through the whole story, but at the end, I literally laughed aloud. And now I think I’m going to have to excuse myself to go find some chocolate chip cookies. This story gave me a couple of cravings, and as Dean Winchester is in short supply in the real world, cookies are the one I can satisfy right now.

This story is, dare I say it, such a sweet escape. 

- Val

No Sugar Added - @myinconnelly1​ - requested by @fangirlxwritesx67​ - “I’d like to see Steve Rogers from MARVEL sharing Depression-era coping tips. Maybe he vlogs how to make apple-less apple pie.” 

No pairing

Warnings: Spoilers for Infinity Wars + Endgame, mention of mental health issues

Words: 446

This was my prompt for the Cabin, and I loved what this author did with the story! A little bit of fluffy cheer.

“Hello, I’m Steve Rogers.  As many of you know, I’m also Captain America, and I was alive during another time of hard living conditions.” 

Right now, a lot of things in the world seem scary and unsettling. It's one of those times when we turn for comfort to the lessons of the past, to the wisdom of generations, and to heroes. This author does a great job with Captain America, Steve Rogers. His cooking lesson is exactly the sort of inspiring, instructional video I would love to see.

“What is that smell?”  Natasha asked as she looked behind her to see Steve walking into the office with the plate.

Because it was never about pie, apple or otherwise. It was always about comfort. Our favorite foods help with that, and so does Captain America, especially written this well.

There are some fun tidbits in this story, including a peek of history and an actual recipe!

- Viv

Communion - @thoughtslikeaminefield​ - requested by @mskathywriteswords​​ “Fluffy dean or Jensen smoking weed plz, ty”

Pairing: Dean Winchester x unnamed female character

Warnings: marijuana use, high sex, het sex, fluffy smut

Words: 1002

How do I love this? Let me count the motherfucking ways. 

First of all, the way this sucks you into the characters’ headspace is beautiful and subtle and masterfully done. It’s in the sentence structure and the flow of the words; there’s no need to describe their inner state, because it’s written into the movement of the sentences and the choice of words. She doesn’t have to say that they’re high, because you can fucking feel it in phrases like “It’s sending me off somewhere…” or “I shiver at the thoughts careening through my mind.”

Second, this is molten hot, but (as with the best smut) it’s not just some rote story of “then he was hard and we banged and it was great.” The sexy bits are unique; this isn’t the same smut you’ve read a thousand times before. It’s got its own personality and tone and voice that very much belong to this particular story. 

Also? Filth with feelings! My favorite genre! It’s deeply emotional. I am all for smut that is both dirty and tender. This is like a masterclass on how to walk that line. 

It’s such a simple premise that becomes so much more; this has things to say about Dean, about his personality, about this relationship. This takes a very specific moment and uses it as a framework for something big and meaningful. This, for example: 

When Dean has to be big, he uses his whole self. His body takes up space and his mere presence -- he can make the darkest of demons shudder with his presence alone.

But Dean’s natural state is this -- nesting, nuzzling, curled up and warm.

Yuuuup.

Also: 

His hands -- the same hands I’ve seen thrust a blade into the guts of angels and demons -- are tender, fingertips light but persistent as they slip under my tank top and splay over my belly.

It’s so intimate. This is why we read fanfic, right? To feel like we’re close to these characters that we love so much, to delve into the sides of them that we don’t get to see much in canon… this fic feels like something personal and private that we’ve been lucky enough to be let in on. 

- Lou

Deeper Than Deep Conditioner - @fangirlxwritesx67​ - requested by @awesomesusiebstuff​ “The two Sam’s (our Sam and AU Sam) maintaining their hair care routines while quarantined.”

It’s one of those days when I’m feeling too fragile for this world. What’s the best remedy to knock some sunlight into my dark mood? Today, it’s fic -- and one that makes me giggle is a bonus.

This little gem is filled with funny one-liners and side-eye moments to make you laugh out loud:

Dean dreamed of driving away, of bikini beauties on the beaches of Rio. Sam dreamed of scarves and what it would be like to have no bigger worries in the world than his hair.

The look Dean gave him would’ve curdled milk, if there was any, which there wasn’t, because Dean took his coffee black, like a man.

A touch of realism in this bizarro situation got a chuckle, too:

“Sorry, sweethearts,” alt!Dean said, “Flights are all cancelled. A virus or something.”

When Viv named the alternates Deano and Sami, I gave in and embraced the madness. I was delighted with Deano; that’s my own nickname for Dean in my head. But Sami, a most pretentious twist on Sammy? A master stroke. I was tickled.

I was fully on board with enjoying this romp through the bizarro world, but then I was taken by surprise. This little moment, a hint that Sam has been trying to make the best of their circumstances, touched me: 

“Is this really how you live?” said Sami, with a dismissive glance at his paper napkin.

“Look,” Sam answered. “I’ve done my best. It’s taken a lot to get us this far.”

I was prepared for that to be the exception to the rule -- a moment of sincerity amongst a sea of lighthearted fun. And there was plenty of fun ahead of me. The jokes come at you hard and fast in this story! But I realized the mood was steadily changing, and suddenly, I was immersed in sincerity and maybe a little sadness:

...somewhere out there, was a universe where he pampered himself...

...maybe there was a place where he could enjoy something as simple as a deep condition...

...something Sam had wanted to watch but never had time for...

...for the first time in a long time, he caught himself laughing...

I thought maybe that was it. A few moments of Sam learning to appreciate what Sami (I was still laughing at that) had to offer, instead of simply mocking his manbun and scarf (I don’t think I could ever stop mocking that, but Sam’s a better person than I am).

But no. It didn’t end there, and I still wasn’t ready. Before I knew it, I was steeped in Sam’s melancholy, his yearning for a life kinder and gentler than what he’d been given. I was truly heartbroken for him in that moment.

I won’t spoil the rest, but by the time I got to the ending, I was grateful for the funny beginning that softened the landing. I expected a comedy, but what I got really was deeper than deep conditioner.

- Bri

Dear Mr. Fantasy - @itmighthavebeenintentional​ - image prompt submitted @thoughtslikeaminefield​

Warnings: SEASON 15 SPOILERS, bit of angst. 

Words: 2157

I found the image prompt in my Tumblr feed and immediately started plotting ideas that I cannot write bc I have too many fucking WIPs so imagine my excite when one of my all-time favorite fic writers (and one of my very best friends) filled the prompt as a surprise for me!

Val tells stories with a depth and humor like no one else I’ve ever read. Her natural wit and smarts shine through her fictional words as well, and I love seeing glimpses of her in her work.

In one universe, someone neglected Baby (couldn’t have been Dean, had to’ve been Sam) to the point where she pulls slightly to the left. Dean spends the morning after that dream with a muscle tick in his cheek and a suspicious, side-eyed glare for Sam that he never bothers to explain.

Dear Mr. Fantasy is bittersweet. It is soft and rich and full of color — all the senses are here. It’s a sledgehammer of realism wrapped in velvet. And it’s so very Dean.

At forty-eight years old (none of that years young bullshit, either; he’s old, and he’s goddamn earned it)

In the midst of reading canon Dean dreaming of and admiring and protecting his favorite of his AU-selves and that version’s life, we are treated to what it would be like if he was allowed a normal life. Our devoted, brave, warm, and loving hunter as a common mechanic would be just as brave and loyal, no?

“Pretty sure she’s settled on ya, so just make sure you’re worth it.” 

So that’s what Dean did. 

But our Dean — the Real Dean as Chuck says — can’t quite let his guard down even in his dreams of another world, even if that other world is safe as houses. He’s still aware of just how unreal this reality is.

Splashes of indigo and orange paint the horizon, framing her approach in a wash of colors blending into shadows that hold no danger.

Then, he lets himself mingle with that dream, if only for a few moments and it’s bliss.

Older Dean and worn-out, monster-plagued Dean sigh together, content down to their bones. This life is it for both of them. She is it. One Dean still can’t believe his amazing luck after all these years, and the other aches at the simple, total happiness he feels honored to witness.

I love you, she whispers, and he allows himself to believe for one moment that she’s talking directly to him.

I’m not going to spoil anything for you, but I will say that you need some tissues. I cried through 90% of this story, from joy and from heartache. 

Because that’s what Valerie does, breaks your heart and makes you smile, and it is so fucking good.

- MJ

Synesthesia - @there-must-be-a-lock - request by @wendibird​ “SPN, Sastiel, due to all the Angelic Grace Sam has been exposed to over time, he starts resonating with Castiel’s. Especially if Cas’ emotions are running high.”

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Castiel

Warnings: none!

Words: 750

First, I love the song that enhanced this idea for Lou. It lends a tenderness and whimsy to the plot that isn’t inherent. 

Second, Lou’s words are like poetry and watercolor doing a dance of their own making — GORGEOUS phrasing and rhythm.

Cas whirls around, and Sam is hypnotized by the bright blue in his eyes, wide and concerned in a way that makes Sam feel like he’s being lit up from the inside. There’s a floodlight in his chest. 

And, y’all, I don’t even go here, but I swooned SO HARD.

It’s an effort to focus, but when he meets Cas’s eyes, Cas smiles. Sam sees a shower of sparks like the last fizzle of a firework.  

Sam hears it as a flutter of spring green like a new leaf. 

And Lou’s characterization is always spot on, right? But like Dean isn’t even in the scene, yet here we are.

Don’t let the words fool you; there’s a very angry rainbow happening in his head most of the time.

And did I mention the ARTWORK that is this woman’s WORDS?

There are stars under their feet, entire galaxies spinning out around them, dancing spirals of kaleidoscopic green and gold melting into whorls of brilliant blue.

Anyway, please go read. You’ll be flying high for hours afterward. xox

- MJ

Salvation - @dontshootmespence​ - image created and submitted by @idabbleincrazy​

Pairings: Sam Winchester x reader

Warnings: angst, torture, gore, smut 

Words: 1,401

The aesthetics by this artist inspire stories just because they are so well done. This one was a good balance of handsome Sam and some nice suggestive pics along with the phrases that helped shape the action of the story.

This story feels like an episode of the show from earlier seasons, just the right balance of angst and monster fighting with tantalizing peeks of smut and feels. Excellent job!

There are no words that come close to explaining what she means to him. How she saves what soul he has left.

These flashback scenes are both hot and tender. The voice the author  gives to Sam is spot on, achingly familiar.

"You're Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood."

It's easy to forget, sometimes, all the things that Sam has been and done, how fearsome of a hunter he is. This story reminds us with razor sharp precision.

When he meets her gaze, he finds the peace he's craved for so long.

The contrast between the flashbacks and the action is painfully good.

What’s more frightening, a man like Dean, practiced in his violence out of necessity? Or a man like him, on the verge of losing everything and nothing left to lose?

This is a well drawn distinction between the Winchester brothers, and such a good characterization of Sam!

"You're safe with me, Sam. You never have to hide from me." 

Such a beautiful relationship between Sam and this woman! It's no wonder he's fighting so hard to save her.

This story has an imaginative plot, fast paced action, some sweet hotness, and such a good Sam!

- Viv

The Second Hand Unwinds - @mskathywriteswords​ - image prompt created and submitted by @there-must-be-a-lock​ 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: hurt, comfort, angst

I had a vibe in mind when I created this aesthetic but this went so far beyond anything I could’ve imagined. It absolutely nailed that nostalgic, wistful, antique-photo-album feel, and then it managed to knife me in the fucking gut in a few ways, none of which I saw coming. 

The JOY in the first part of this is absolutely tangible. It’s so romantic and sweet in a very dreamy way that feels exactly like first love. I love the scattered, disjointed imagery around the flowers in the first part, like flashes of memories coming at you all at once, and then when it settles into the narrative it manages to hold onto that dreamy feeling while still moving neatly through the plot. 

This moment was about us, and I wanted to live in it forever. You never gave me reason to cover my body, not that night or ever.

Goddamn right. Ugh, precious and beautiful. And then this:

After so much undiluted time together, I had no idea how to sleep alone. I felt raw waking up by myself, not being able to feel your stubble tickling my skin. 

There’s something about that last line that just grabbed my heart and tugged it in a wonderful way. It’s ACCURATE, first of all; this is one of those super-specific feelings that is hard to describe concisely. I haven’t really thought about that feeling in a while, but that little sentence just cut through so many years and brought me right back in a deep and visceral way. 

You took pride in doing all the things that were never done for you, you’d told me.

Ouch. It’s little touches like this that make this ring true to character even though it’s a very different Dean than we see in canon.

And then that ENDING. 

How do you contain a bomb once it’s been set on fire with grief?

Fuck, dude. Everything about that ending was so painful. I love that she left it raw and messy and not like a simple “welcome back!” kinda moment. 

This was just gorgeously done. Can not recommend it enough. 

Fort - @there-must-be-a-lock​ - prompt by @mskathywriteswords​​ “Fluffy dean or Jensen smoking weed plz, ty.” 

Pairing: J2 x reader

Warnings: blowjobs and weed. 

Words: ~2150

This piece of deliciousness opens with Jensen walking out of the bathroom with a towel on his hips; do I need to say more? I don’t, but I will. After some beautiful description of the blanket fort, we get treated to Jared in nothing but pajama pants. The descriptions in this piece are vivid and full. the way Jared’s hand looks between Jensen’s muscled shoulderblades, thumb stroking back and forth between patches of gold and red light, makes me want to capture the moment and hold onto it. I can see that image in my mind, picture the two of them together, and that’s what makes excellent writing for me. The warnings attached to this piece are fully applicable; the story is very cute and sweet, there’s weed, and there’s Jared and a wicked oral fixation, which in the case of this one-shot means dear Reader, that’s you, get to witness a searing blowjob from one J to another. The way these three interact makes my heart swell, and there’s something about watching the dynamic change between them that really hammers home just how functional they are together. Dive in to this universe, Everything. There are no regrets to be had, maybe only that you waited so long to get wet.

- Kathy

The Gazelle - @thoughtslikeaminefield​ - requested by Anonymous “I’d really love some more Dean x Benny fanfiction, AU, aligned with canon timeline, whatever. I think they deserved a chance and Benny got killed off before it could even be explored :(”

Pairing: AU Dean Winchester x AU Benny Lafitte x unnamed female character

Warnings: power exchange, mmf threesome implied, Denny apparent, nudity

Words: 1000

Let me start with a caveat: I’m in the bag for pretty much any Dean x Benny fic, pretty much any Dean x Benny x person #3 fic, and absolutely any MJ fic. So you could stop reading this review right now and just go read the fic, if you want; in fact, I sort of recommend it, because it’s better than anything I could have to say about it. But if you want to stick around, I promise to be a little more coherent than ZOMGGGG PERFECT HOT SEXY TIMES DENNY LOVE GORGEOUS MORE PLZ!  

Before we even get to the words, we’ve got a gorgeous graphic. Black and white beautiful boys, staring you down with those “I’m gonna fuck you so good” eyes, paired with a sweetly sexy woman tinted with a soft pink; she looks carefree, open to have some fun, and you can imagine her telling them to bring it on. MJ’s graphics are always great, setting the perfect mood for her fics, and this is no exception.

And right from the jump:

Dean and me — we share a lot of things.

We share good music and good drink. Tonight, we’re sharing a good woman.

Oh, this is in Benny’s voice?! Okay okay okay, cool cool cool, I can handle this…

...Dean purrs like a jungle cat as he hovers behind her, hands in her hair, twisting and twirling the silky tresses…

...Dean sets the pace and is the anchor, always. He keeps everything stable and grounded…

And now I’ve realized that I’m going to be seeing Dean through Benny’s eyes -- and no, not cool, can’t handle this -- but I’m definitely not stopping.

I like to mix things up, though, and he lets me.

MJ is a brilliant writer with many talents, but I think her specialty, regardless of what characters she’s writing with, is brilliantly salacious smut that’s steeped in emotion. She can’t help it. Her fucks come with feels, every single time, and I hope it never changes. 

This piece is certainly no exception. Dean and Benny are circling their prey, this unnamed woman, utilizing their individual strengths -- Dean’s encouraging, I’m demanding -- and the sexual tension is building with soft touches and lingering kisses. As the scene is progressing, Benny’s inner monologue is sprinkled with thoughts about Dean:

Times we don’t have a subject, Dean’s focus is on me. I don’t argue and I do not complain. Dean knows what to do with every inch of that long, lean body of his. He knows how to cage a person in, make them feel safe, wanted, fucking needed.

She’s handily building emotion and a personal backstory without an exposition dump, without taking focus away from the action for too long:

His hands move slowly, seemingly random, but I know how focused he is on her and the moment. Giving and seeking pleasure are vital things to Dean and he takes the acts to heart.

I’m immersed in the now of this scene but I also understand the depth of their feelings for one another, their history and dedication to each other, and how they work together to bring another partner into their orbit. MJ makes it look easy, when it’s anything but. 

And then she gifts us with this perfection and I’ve melted into a puddle of emotionally aroused goo:

“You promise to love, honor, and cherish ‘til the morning light, Dean?”

That is a vow of devotion to a one-night stand. What?! How?! Does her brain come up with this?

From there, the scene continues, the action escalating, supported by a framework of realism and heart. Her Dean feels familiar and in character, even though we’ve never seen him in this particular situation. And Benny, we hardly knew ye, but she brings him to life alongside Dean and I buy their relationship completely. I buy all of this, and now I’m invested.

And then… 

“Do it, then,” she says, challenging. “Wreck me.”

My breath catches, my heart starts to race -- yes, here we go! -- a few more sentences, one last connection between Dean and Benny, and then --

Oh, you are evil, MJ. You are so perfectly evil and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

- Bri

[deathvalleyqueen]

Full clear on OC asks for Sam! 💋

Thank you my dear... now lets gush about John’s first born and only son shall we???

BASICS

What’s their full name? - Samuel Joseph Seed 

What does their name mean? Why were they named that? -  Well he was going to be named Joseph, after his Uncle...The Father... but his mother was having none of that and switched out the birth certificate forms for the one she had filled out because there was no way in hell Mary Jane was about to let her precious baby boy be named after Joseph... though she allowed his middle name to be Joseph as a way to keep the peace. 

Do they have any nicknames? - SOOOO MANY! Sam - is the most common one and what most people call him. Sammie - What MJ still calls him even as an adult. Bubby - Ellie’s nickname for him as a child, Thing 1 - Sean’s nickname for him as kids. Cousin It - Finn’s nickname for him. Jesus - another Finn nickname. (because he looks like the only image of Jesus they had ever seen) Weasel - Mac gives him this as small child and sticks. 

How old are they? - At the time of New Dawn 24 almost 25 years old.

When’s their birthday? -  October 19th

What’s their zodiac sign/element/birthstone/etc.? Do they believe that holds any significance?

What’s their species/subspecies? Do they have any special/magical abilities? - He’s a Seed... does that count? He has John’s “far too blue” eyes...so like... That could be considered super powers.... 

What “class” do they belong to (for fantasy characters)? If none, what weapon do they favor? - If there was such thing as a Healer Mage class in the FC universe.. .that would probably be Sam’s class because he is exceptionally smart with a real focus in medicine and science/chemistry. If the Collapse wouldn’t have happened he would probably have gone to Med School to become a surgeon. 

APPEARANCE

What do they look like? - Same is the tallest of MJ and John’s kids standing just a hair taller than his father at 5′11. He has long dark brown hair and an impressive beard, both of which he has sported since he was 16 making him often be mistaken for much older than he is. He slight of build and looks to be in far better shape physically than he is actually is. 

Do they have a face claim? - Tom Payne - Specifically as Paul “Jesus” Rovia from TWD

What’s their style like? Clothes, hair, makeup? -  He is a pretty standard guy. He isn’t fancy, mostly because this world doesn’t allow for it. He likes t-shirts, sweaters and jeans. He will wear an old button up shirt if he can find it and has several trench coats he has acquired over the years. His hair is usually down and one the rare occasion that he puts it up, Lily always glares at him and tells him to put his hair down before their mother sees... because with his hair up.. he looks a lot like a young Joseph. 

How do they carry themselves? What’s their default expression? - Sam is a very self assured young man, bordering on the cockiness of John in his youth. He has been painfully aware that he was always one of the more intelligent people in the room from a young age and developed a bit of a superiority complex because of it. He tends to stand with his shoulders back and hands at his side or in his pockets. He is an observer, rarely the person leading the conversation but always watching and passing his judgment.

Do they have any physical ailments or disabilities? - Sam is the only one of MJ and John’s kids to have been born with health issues. He had a medium sized hole in his heart when he was born that eventually required surgery. Though since that surgery had very little issue besides a heart mummer. This however left MJ way over protective of him well into adulthood. 

PERSONALITY

What’s their alignment? Lawful Neutral 

Which one of the 16 Personality Types do they fit into? - INTP

What are their hobbies and interests? Do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)? - Sam loves music, he plays piano and guitar. He is much more of a classical music person and as a child spent hours practicing. His favorite books are Animal Farm and Frankenstein. His favorite food as a child was pizza and pasta, as an adult he is happy with whatever he can get but still loves carbs. His favorite item from his childhood he was able to keep was a model plane that John and him made when he was 6. It’s of John’s plane. 

What are they bad at? - Dealing with intense emotions, both their own and other people’s. He never knows how to react and often seems to ‘over react’ with his own emotions. He also can not shoot to save his life. 

What kind of things do they dislike/hate? - Unnecessary cruelty. Onions, Fish and split pea soup.

Do they have any vices/addictions/mental illnesses? - Well... lets just start with he has a lot of childhood trauma... which defiantly manifests it’s self in some pretty well hidden anxiety and depression. He also comes from a long line of people who suffer with various addictions and I could see Sam having again...a very well hidden...drinking problem. Particularly post-ND events. 

What are their goals and motivations? - Their end goal is not peace, as much as an agreement that would allow everyone to function as they need to with in a certain set of rules... IE... he wants to re-establish a ruling body of government on a very small scale in Hope County that would allow for the communities to work together when needed but function independently as they wish as long as they cause no harm to the other communities. This is motivated by his study of history and his belief that because he has studied so much, he has found fault in the old systems and what he will build will be better. 

What are their manners like? Any habits? - He has an odd stillness about him, even as small child. He was the quite one, the better behaved of the twins (easily the most well behaved of all MJ and John’s children). He tends to crack his knuckles when he is nervous or clear his throat when he feels the conversation is getting off topic. 

What are they most afraid of? - Not being able to do enough. He sees what happened because of his father, his family.. his mother’s family. Sam feels (like all the kids do in some way) responsible for fixing the mess that the Seeds created in Hope County. 

BACKGROUND

Where were they born? What was their childhood like? - He was born with his sister Lilith at the birthing center in Hope County (but both he and Lily were sent to a much bigger hospital shortly after they were born because the small hospital couldn’t handle them being 8 weeks early). Their childhood before the collapse was filled with pockets of really happy times mixed with stretches of chaos. Both he and Lily vividly remember The Project at Eden’s Gate and the events of the Reaping. Both he and Lily were present for the attempted arrest of Joseph. After the collapse it was still difficult in the bunker as both his parents struggled with believed loss of Jacob, Ellie and worst of all Grace. Once they left the bunker things settled into a new normal. He is very close with Lily and Rose, as well as his Uncle Mac. He is close with both of his parents but is resentful on some level of their preoccupation with losing Grace.  

What’s their family like? - A hot mess... but the core they are very tight knit. Sam is more ready to trust a member of his immediate family than anyone else. 

What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold? - He and Lily were called “The First of the Children of New Eden” within the Project as small children and as an adult he holds the role of the “doctor” in the community John calls “Redemption” but really Sam is main intelligence gatherer as people are very disarmed by him because of his ability to help the sick. 

How do they fit into their “story”? - Sam is Ethan’s foil for lack of a better way of putting. Ethan is grasping for power, while Sam wants nothing do with holding an position at all within New Eden. He has no desire to fulfill any of the role that The Father saw him. He is easily the one most suited to lead, but has no desire what so ever to lead anyone or be any manner of spiritual leader to people. 

Where do they currently live? What’s their place like?

How do they eventually die? - He dies of a sudden heart attack while speaking to a group of people gathered in New Eden (preaching basically) at the age of 36. He dies before both his parents and all three of his sisters. 

RELATIONSHIPS

Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend? - His best friend is easily Lily, because they are twins. Their relationship is just on a different level than other peoples. They understand each other often with just glances and small changes in expression. He also becomes close with Finn, both sharing a bit of a sarcastic and witty sense of humor. 

What’s their friend group like? What role do they play in it?

What’s their love life like? (See also: ship question meme.) Do they have any kids? - Well.. not really. He spends most of his time with his sisters during the story and I never really thought of him in romantic terms...at all. I could see him having kids one day, either “adopting” or by natural means... either or. 

Who do they look up to? Who do they trust? - Really the person Sam looks up to the most is Mac. He respects Mac’s ability to pragmatic about difficult choices and always put the others before his own benefit. Mac had a big hand in raising Sam, so this really comes as no surprise. As far as people he trusts, he trusts his family... his sisters (including Grace), his uncles, Rachel/Faith, Ellie,... pretty much everyone but Joseph and Ethan that share DNA with him. 

Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies? - Joseph, mostly because he puts the full blame on what happened with the collapse and the events the happened in his life right before squarely on Joseph’s shoulders. This by proxy extends to Ethan...

Do they have any pets? - As a child he had several, Boomer and Salem even made it to the bunker with them (thank you Sean and Faith) but since then he never really kept bets.

Are they good with kids? Animals? - Yes to both.

FUN FACTS

Which tropes do they fit? Which archetypes? - The Dutiful Son , Looks Like Jesus/Hippie Jesus  (that one goes without saying right?), The Spymaster & Big Brother Instinct 

Do they play any instruments? Sports? - He plays Piano and he was never much for sports. 

What are some items they always carry?- A knife, a small black notebook and a pen.

Do they collect anything? - Books.

What position do they sleep in? - On his stomach mostly with the pillow over his head rather than under his head.

Which emoji would they use the most? - The eyes emoji

What languages do they speak? - English

What’s their favorite expletive? - Fuck

What’s their favorite candle scent? - Probably like Pine...

What songs remind you of them? - Loosing My Religion - R.E.M

Which animal would you say represents them? - The Raven

What stereotypical high school clique would they fit into? - The Weird kids that don’t fit in with any other group who is kinda metal head looking but gets straight A’s. 

What would their favorite ride at an amusement park be? - Bumper Cars (he actually gets to go once as a child)

Do they believe in aliens? Ghosts? Reincarnation or something else? - For someone who grew up in such a superstitious home, if Sam doesn’t have evidence for it... he doesn’t believe. 

Do they follow any religions/gods? Do they celebrate holidays? - Again, for someone who grew up in such an intensely religious home, he lost all connection to PEG or even conventional Christian beliefs by the time he is an adult he declares he is in Atheist. He does preach about keeping a very personal set of morals that you should adhere to but, not the belief there is an all knowing deity. 

Which Deadly Sin do they most correspond to? Which Heavenly Virtue? - Pride 

If you had to choose one tarot card to represent them, which would it be? - The Hierphant 

[haveanotherfandomblog]

Avenger’s Preferences

How You Meet Pt. 2

A/N: Someone in my family works in the V.A. so yes, I know what I’m talking about.

Peter-

Switching schools was never something you liked. Always being the new kid and having to recreate a whole new life was always so hard and frustrating. You tried to be a lone wolf, but your bubbly and friendly personality just wouldn’t let you. So when you inevitably moved, it was always full of tears.

This time was no different. Your family had relocated to New York City for your father’s business. You were in a new school surrounded by people you didn’t know. While their faces all blurred together, you stuck out like a sore thumb. You knew everyone was staring at you as you made your way to your new locker. Once you found it, you found that it did not want to cooperate and open.

“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled, shaking the lock. You rested your head against the cool metal.

“Need some help with that?” A tall girl with dark skin, black, frizzy hair, and glasses stood a little down the way. She was leaning against another locker, her arms crossed over her chest. You stood up straight, pulling your mouth into a thin line.

“That’d be great, thanks,” you said. She pushed herself off the locker. She came over to your locker, jiggling the lock before hitting it with her elbow. It swung open with complete ease.

“These things suck,” she told you. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. I haven’t seen you around here before.”

“Uh, no. I’m new. My name’s Y/N. Y/N L/N.” You stuck your hand out, a smile on your face. She took your hand hesitantly.

“Hey, I’m--”

“MJ!” Behind you, two boys were waving at the girl, MJ. One was on the heavier side with tan skin and dark hair. The other one was a slim, fit guy with pale skin and light brown hair.

“MJ! We’ve been looking for you,” the first guy said.

“Guys. This is Y/N. She’s new,” MJ said. “Y/N, this is Ned and Peter--a couple of losers.” You giggled, holding out your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you guys,” you said. Ned shook your hand with a big smile. Peter gave your hand a shake, a tight-lipped smile on his face. “As wonderful as it’s been meeting you all, I should head to class. See you guys!” You skipped off down the hall, searching for your first class.

Sam-

When you had returned from Iraq, you were so happy to be home. Your family had thrown a small get-together to celebrate your safe return. Everyone was so proud of you for serving your country. Your parents had offered to let you stay with them until you found yourself a job and an apartment. With a good record, and an honorable discharge, it shouldn’t be hard.

It was two months before you landed a job as a receptionist at the V. A. Center in D.C. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but you made decent money. However, living in D.C. was expensive. Finding a place seemed almost impossible, even with a job. Luckily your parents were extremely understanding.

After about three months at the V. A., you had your job down pretty well. Most of the time you were answering calls from local and nationwide veterans. Most were nice, inquiring about certain medical options and wanting help through the transition back into normal society. Some veterans weren’t as friendly and called to complain about how the government treated them or simply to yell.

You had finished another call and were logging it when someone cleared their throat. You tapped on the board that was in front of you. You listened as the pen scratched across the paper for the visitor. Once you finished your log you glanced up.

A handsome stranger stood in front of your desk, a half-smile on his face. You smiled back, heat rising up your neck.

“Welcome to the V. A. Center, how can I help you?” you asked, fidgeting with your hands.

“I’m Sam Wilson. I have an interview in about twenty-minutes,” he told you. You nodded, sliding down a bit to the other phone. You picked it up, dialing the three numbers to your boss’ office.

“Sir, there’s a Sam Wilson here to see you,” you informed him. “Yes sir.” You slid back down to Mr. Wilson. “He’ll be here shortly, he’s finishing up a meeting.”

Mr. Wilson nodded, sitting down in one of the chairs. You tried your best to not stare, but not staring was never your strong suit. Mr. Wilson was tall, dark, and handsome, how could you not stare? He was sitting back in the chair, his ankle resting on his knee. His arm was thrown over the back of the chair as he stared down the hall.

“Can I ask you something Mr. Wilson?” you inquired, pretending to type on the computer as if you hadn’t spent the last five minutes staring at him.

“Please, Sam is fine,” he said.

“Okay, Sam, can I ask you something?” He nodded. “What branch did you serve?”

“Army,” he replied. You nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“So when they do a men of the Army calendar, is it just twelve months of you?” He paused for a moment before laughing. “What? Don’t like it?” You shot him a wink, a smirk on your face.

“I like it quite a lot, actually… what’s your name?”

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

Bucky-

It took years and years of studying and hard work, but becoming the leading psychiatrist in dealing and helping soldiers with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSS), formerly PTSD. You never experienced it personally, but you had neighbors and friends who suffered from it growing up. You wanted to do something helpful in the world, something good, so you dedicated your life to finding ways to work through what others had experienced. Your reputation began to precede you, and that was how you were flown across the world to help one of the worst cases you’d ever seen.

The patient was a Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. He served in World War I where he was presumed KIA, Killed In Action. That was until about four years ago when he resurfaced as an assassin for an organization that was almost gone. The more you read, the wilder his story seemed to get. Reading his file, which was quite extensive, covered almost the entire flight to Wakanda.

King T’Challa stood ready to greet you when your plane landed. You bowed your head respectively, taking in the empty fields that surrounded you. He shook your hand firmly, offering you a warm smile.

“Welcome to Wakanda Dr. L/N,” he greeted.

“Thank you for having me, Your Majesty,” you said. “You have beautiful, open lands.”

“You’re much too kind. If you would follow me this way.” He held his hand out and began guiding you across one of the fields. Birds chirped above you as you made your trek over the verdant hills.

Just over the last hill was a single hut. Goats roamed around freely, munching on grass and bleating. King T’Challa gestured to the hut, staring at it solemnly.

“White Wolf lives there. He lives happily in solitude, but human interaction is important. The world says you are the best in your field. Please, help him,” the King said. You nodded your head.

“Nothing is guaranteed,” you reminded him. “My methods aren’t a one-hundred percent success, but I will do my best.”

“That is all we ask.”

You nodded one more time before resuming your walk to the small hut, this time alone. The goats were curious about you, pausing their lunch to stare at you. One particularly small one ran to you, nudging its head against your leg.

“Steve, be nice.”

A new voice caught your attention. His hair was longer and his beard was fuller, but you recognized the man as Sergeant Barnes. He stood in the doorway of the hut, staring down at the tiny goat that was now nibbling at the bottom of your pants. He wore white, traditional, Wakanda clothing. A white bandage covered the stub where his arm once was. He would have seemed peaceful were it not for the dark, solemn gaze in his eyes.

“Sergeant Barnes?” you called, bending down to pick up the goat. He looked up at you. “Sergeant Barnes my name is Dr. Y/N L/N. King T’Challa asked me to help you transition back into civilian society.” He nodded his head slowly. The goat, Steve, nestled into your chest, nibbling your shirt. “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Of course,” he said, moving aside so you could enter his hut. Setting the goat down, you stepped inside the small hut. It was bare for the most part, only the necessities were present. You took a seat on a nearby chair, watching him carefully. He took a seat across from you, awkwardly shifting in his seat.

“Sergeant Barnes, I would like to preface this by saying I am here to help you, and if what we do isn’t helping, it’s okay to say that,” you said.

“Bucky.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name… it’s Bucky.” You smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you Bucky. I’m Y/N.”

Loki-

Rehabilitation, patience, and forgiveness were some of your core beliefs. You also believed that good was in everyone, no matter what bad deeds they did, no matter how lost they seemed, with the right guidance and a voice of encouragement, you truly believed that anyone could redeem themselves. Because of this firm belief, you started a rehabilitation center in your kingdom which grew into the biggest and most successful rehabilitation center in the world.

Being the princess of a small country was hard, but this success gave your country exactly what it needed--money. Which sounded worse than it actually was. The world runs on money and your people weren’t exactly millionaires, but being paid to rehabilitate both petty and hardened criminals was surprisingly a great way to make money.

So much so that King T’Challa of Wakanda, an old childhood friend of yours, asked a favor from an American aquanitice of his. Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries and Avenger, had been asked by his fellow Avenger, Thor to seek a place for his trickster brother. You had heard all about New York in the news, but you never expected that to have an affect on your country. You weren’t so sure until Thor offered to pay in pure gold. That, you simply couldn’t refuse.

You stood on the runway, watching as the plane carrying your latest case began to touch down. The wind whipped your hair around your face, but your sunglasses protected your eyes. The wind settled once the plane came to a stop. The door opened and the first to exit was King T’Challa.

“Your Majesty,” you called. He smiled at you as he descended the stairs.

“Your Highness,” he greeted. He jogged over to you, skipping all formalities to give you a heartfelt hug. “It has been too long, old friend.”

“Much too long,” you agreed. A posse of people had followed him. Guards from Wakanda, Tony Stark, Thor, and his brother, Loki.

“Princess Y/N, this is my American acquaintance, Tony Stark.”

“Yes, Stark Industries precedes you.” He bowed to you respectfully.

“Your Highness, this is Thor and his troublesome brother Loki,” Stark said, gesturing to the two giant men beside him. Loki was bound in unique chains and had his face covered so you could only see his eyes.

“Welcome, gentlemen. We are happy to welcome you to our small corner of the world. If you all would follow me,” you said. You looped your arm through T’Challa’s, leading them to the facilities where Loki would be kept. “While your brother is a rather unique guest, we will be treating him like we treat everyone else here. Because of his abilities, he will be placed in a special room designed specifically for him.”

“How do you know it will hold Reindeer Games over here?” Stark asked, sending a pointed look to Loki. You smiled.

“I had a top engineer design it using advanced technologies that could put your entire company to shame,” you said. A smirk pulled at T’Challa’s mouth at the mention of his sister.

“You are very kind for doing this Princess Y/N,” Thor said. “I know with the right guidance, my brother will come back to who he used to be. Loki rolled his eyes at that, opting to look out the window. From the corner of your eye, you could see him staging at your reflection through the glass.

“It’s my pleasure.”

[writing-reading-inspiring]

A Maddening World (Peter Parker X Reader) - Chapter Three

Summary:  (y/n) was only trying to get volunteer hours in order to gain admission into NYU. However, the Stark Mental Institution held more than she bargained for when she meets her patient, Peter Parker. She never planned to get mixed up with someone who is set on the idea that an alien named Thanos snapped half of all living creatures away and made everyone else forget, yet here she is. The universe has a funny way of trying to correct itself.

Chapter One  ~  Chapter Two  ~  Chapter Three

Peter pulled me down the hallway in his hast, taking so many turns I lost track of where we were. 

We finally arrived at a set of double glass doors which he quickly opened to reveal a beautiful garden full of fresh fruits and vegetables. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw what the hospital was growing. I know home grown foods are better for you, but I would have never imagined it being like this.

Peter kept going down the gravel path, each step leading us deeper into the mass of trees that created a canopy over rows of flowers. I couldn’t help but notice that under this cover, no one from the hospital would be able to see us.

"What is this place?" I asked Peter, growing slightly anxious from my thoughts.. "This is the garden where they grow some of the foods we eat at the hospital. I go here almost everyday. For the most part, only staff comes out here and that’s only to harvest what grows. Everyone always forgets that there’s more when you go far enough." He continued to hold my hand as he led me to a beautiful gazebo in a sea of flowers. I could hear the ripples of water the breeze created on the small pond just to the right of it. "It's beautiful," I gasped. I’d only ever seen a place as enchanted as this in movies. "Yeah", Peter whispered staring at me. I met his eyes before his head snapped back to the gazebo as if he had just come out of a trance. "Sorry, uh, yeah it's beautiful. I like to go here during my free time, it's somewhere I can just relax." He let go of my hand and walked to the farthest bench closest to the pond. I stared at him for a minute before following in his footsteps and taking a seat next to him. We sat in silence, but it wasn't like earlier. This felt like the type of silence you can only achieve with someone you've known for years and truly trust. Soon I realized that his gaze has changed from the lily pads to me. "Why did you volunteer? Really."

"My friend Liz asked me to volunteer with her. She didn’t want to do it alone, and well she was able to convince me once she brought up the point that it could help me get into NYU." I don't know why I told him this. I haven't even told my dad that I want to go to NYU. "That’s cool, NYU is a really good school. You definitely seem like the type of person they would accept. I mean come one, you radiate intelligence."

I blushed at his comments, “I don’t know about that, my counselor told me I’m toast if I don’t get volunteer hours.”

He nodded in understanding, “Hence why you’re here.”

“Well, yeah, but like I said, it was my friend who mentioned we should volunteer here. I would have gone to a soup kitchen otherwise.”

He laughed at me for a minute before looking down at his hands. "Peter…can I ask you a question?" "You just did. But yeah, why not? We'll make it a game, almost like 20 questions,” he smiled back at me. "That sounds like a good idea. I know this may be too much right off the bat but, why are you here? You don't seem like you should be." Peter looked down again before speaking, "I'm guessing you heard stories about what everyone else thinks?" "Yeah, they say you believe that we all lost our memories and half the planet died or something. Dr. Beck said you won't let go of it. But, Peter, I asked you because I want to hear it from your perspective." "You know what, this game is stupid, we should probably head back to the hospital." I could sense that he was closing up to me again. I was upset by this, but I also couldn’t blame him, he has only known be for a day. I check the time, 11:57. "Yeah", I said reluctantly. “It's almost lunch.” We walked in silence back to the hospital. I could tell that we took a step forward and a huge leap back, erasing all progress made. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut? When we arrived at the cafeteria, all of Peter’s friends were already there. I gave a small wave to Liz, who was sitting in the corner with Brad. She smiled back, motioning that we needed to talk later. I nodded back to her as Brad gave me a huge smile too.

Peter went to get his food and medication while I went to the table we sat at this morning. I felt eyes on me again and turned to find that it was Brad. Just like this morning, he was staring at me smiling. 

I heard a cough and turned my head to see Peter glaring daggers at Brad. "So, (y/n), I know you want to go to NYU, but what would your major be?" 

Betty shared a look with Ned after hearing Peter’s question. I didn’t understand what it was for, but MJ seemed to be upset about it. "Um, well I’m trying to become a forensic scientist. Actually, my mom was or is too, I honestly don't know at this point." "What do you mean you don't know if your mother's a forensic scientist?" MJ stared me down while waiting for me to answer her question. "Well, a couple of years ago, I lived in Staten Island with my dad and mom. I honestly don’t remember much from that year or even a couple years before that, I blocked most of it out. Unfortunately, I do remember my mom leaving to go to work and never coming home. I tried to call her and eventually I called her work, but they had no record of her for some reason. I’m not exactly sure what happened, all I can hope for is she’s okay. After she left, my dad never talked about her, almost as if she never existed. But despite all of that, she gave me my love for fighting crime in the best way I can, with my mind. " "I'm sorry that couldn't have been easy.” Peter gave my hand a light squeeze as he spoke. "It's not that big of a deal. It was a long time ago. I don't even remember what she looks like anymore, so I can’t find her anyway." Peter gave me an apologetic look, almost as if he knew things that I didn’t. I smiled softly back at him though, trying to show him I'm fine. Even though I didn't tell him the whole truth, I don't think he needs to know it. We've only known each other for a day and I’ve already trusted him with more knowledge of myself than even Liz knows. Peter looked at the clock on the wall before getting up and walking towards the door, gently pulling me behind. "It's 12:28 and Happy doesn't like it when we're late. Plus, you're new, you don't want to get on his bad side yet." We kept walking until we got to a glass door or the 5th floor. Inside, I could see some of the other patients and their nurses sitting at some of the tables. "Exactly 12:30, good, at least you’re not late again Parker." Mr. Hogan said this as he sat in the middle of the room. "Now then, today we'll be sword fighting." I was immediately shocked by Mr. Hogan’s idea. I can’t question anything myself because I don’t know any better, but I wouldn’t think giving mental patients swords to fight with is the greatest idea. I follow Peter to two vacant seats as Mr. Hogan explained the rules. "Happy, we’ve sword fought before. Why are we going over the rules?” A patient who I’ve never met before spoke. "Mr. Thompson, I doubt that our new staff members know the rules. I bet most of them are shocked that we give you swords. Am I wrong?" I realized that the last part was directed towards me. I could feel the piercing gazes of everyone in the room. I slowly nodded my head with a smile as the patient huffed.  "Now that that's settled, why don't I explain the rules. Everyone is to participate, even if they have never held a sword before. There is no maiming, aggression, or anything else that can result in injury, mentally or physically. You will only be using blocking and attacking moves, so that excludes flips and trying to impel your opponent. Now then, everyone should already know their teams so grab a sword and begin." Everyone went to grab a plastic sword from the bucket at the front of the room. I lagged behind slightly, nervous about what will happen. 

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Ned talking to Peter, slightly nudging him. As I turned around to face them, they quickly dispersed. I went to Peter and he raised his sword, motioning for me to do the same. Soon we were battling each other, though it wasn’t much of a battle since Peter was weirdly good at combat. I’d never seen a guy be so agile and graceful.

Before we knew it, it was time for Percy to see his tutor. "So, where are we going next?" "My room. Mr. Harrington doesn't really work here like Dr. Beck. He works at Midtown High School, but volunteers to tutor, well really teach, the patients at the hospital." "That's really nice of him. So, what are you learning now?" "Well, I’m pretty ahead of what he planned, so we mostly just focus on chemistry and Spanish at this point." I nod my head as I watched the numbers in the elevator slowly rise. 

Peter’s door was already open when we arrived.  A man was sitting on a chair by the window unpacking his bag. His brown hair fell to the sides of his face with a slightly off center part. He had a matching beard and glasses to complete his underpaid teacher look.

"Hi, I'm Mr. Harrington. You must be Peter’s new nurse. Mrs. Cohn, the receptionist told me you would be here. It's lovely to meet you." "You, too. I'm (y/n)." "Well, (y/n), I'll be here everyday at this time till about 2:30. I hope I don't bother you." "Of course not. I value education above everything." "Good." He said before taking a deep breath and grabbing at his papers again. He turned his head to look at Peter, who was standing next to me. "So, Peter, let's get started. Last time I was here we were learning about how to..." I began to tune out their conversation as I went to sit on Peter’s bed. I began to think about everything that has happened today. There was Brad, who seemed to like me, but he was a patient here. It also seemed that Peter didn't like him very much, which is a problem since he’s my patient. Then again, it shouldn't really matter what he thinks. But on the other hand, I was able to open up to him so easily. Apparently I was thinking for a while, because the next thing I know there was a loud cough. I looked up to see Mr. Harrington and Peter looking at me. "I'm sorry. I guess I spaced out, were one of you saying something?" Mr. Harrington laughed, "I was just saying goodbye. It was lovely meeting you (y/n)." "Oh, well it was lovely meeting you too.” I shook his hand as I said this.

He gave me one last smile before turning to Peter again, “Remember to do your homework Peter."

Once Mr. Harrington left, I turned back to Peter, "So, it's your free time. What do you want to do?" "Is sleep an option?" I gave a breathy laugh, "Well you could, but you have homework, don't you?" "I can't say no, can I?" "Nope," I answered popping the p, "but you can say that you'll get started on that homework and be a good student." Peter pulled a face, “I can finish my homework in no time. Can't we do something else? I could take you to my other hiding spot." "If you take me to the other spot, then you would have to do your school work after dinner. But, you would only have an hour to do it." "That’s plenty of time. I can have it done in 30 minutes if I really wanted to." "Okay, fine. Where's this hiding spot of yours?" "Take my hand," he smiled, extending his hand. I look at it questioningly. "I won't bite come on." He shakes his hand a little bit and I look up at him. I got lost in his eyes and almost as if I was in a trance, my hand went into his. I felt something in the pit of my stomach, that I can't really explain. He tugged on my hand and off we were. Again.

Tag List:

@thenerdiverse  ~  @alix-winchester  ~  @sunshinedolantwins  ~  @spider-manffh  ~  @silver-winter-wolf​  ~  @5secondsofpeterparker​  ~  @clipopex-writing​  ~  @143amberrose​  ~  @i-am-a-peanut-007​

[jojoreadwhat]

you're all in my hands tonight, tonight I'm a rock 'n' roll star. / honey & smoke - m.h. x OFC story

Four Days Later, On A Friday.

Matty's POV

Computer Education had already given me a sour taste in my mouth and I only sat through two of its lectures. One because I knew majority of what was listed on the slides Professor Nolan was scheming through. I really had no explanation why I applied at UNI in the first place. I had high hopes that the tapes the boys and I sent into Capital Records would hit a soft spot. Sending us on a one way trip to success, where none of these qualifications would matter as long as I wrote out the music.

Then again if it all went down hill where I'd arrive at my flat with a box of tapes with the word 'denied' repeatedly stamped over it like fragile, even though my heart would be the fragile piece in that box. It would open the door behind the scene, the little paper of a degree with my name. A ticket of being able to tweak the shitty tunes on the radio that replayed like the TV movies do on Sundays.

Two, Professor Nolan was a bit of a drag. A fine dapper looking gentlemen in his early fifties. His hair slick back dirty blonde with what looked like emerald eyes the last time I stood close. A close shaved beard that extenuated his sharp jaw line. Dressed to the nines that if you seen him on the streets, you would've thought he had millions and a white collar type business. Even though, his Gucci navy suit that my father had exactly and bought for fifteen hundred dollars could make you believe he sat on a green mountain of dollar signs.

I felt his personality and aura resembled a present me. Barely in tune with all the new things happening but completely in tune with the young ladies that gave any advantages to pass. But in his case the young ladies could pass as daughters if the sucker had any.

"Open Audio Access on your laptops." He commanded, changing the slides that was accompanied with taps and clicks from everyone following along. I sighed to myself, everything that was on those poorly designed boards. I had edited and achieved on a new track the boys and I had recorded last night.

I slouched back in my seat, listening to Nolan's cocky Mr. Know-It-All demeanor. His degrees decorating the back of his desk fact it in that he knew more. Only giving him the approval of having Professor in front of Nolan instead of Mister.

++

After commenting on Mindy's plaid skirt, Professor Feast-A-Lot finally dismissed us.

I still had a class within the hour, just some simple music class that I signed up for the laughing matter. Always stating my answers to bands I drowned myself in as the other students wanted to cuss me out. Sighing to themselves, like that mop got the spill of answers.

With the time I had between I decided to get some coffee. The tea I had earlier with George talking about his night wasn't living up to it's strong expectations. Even though the class I just left could stand as a contender of an explanation.

I walked with the rush of the hundreds in the halls, making my way to left wing lounge and turning the corner of muraled up wall, covered in vibrant flowers and weird shapes from the art program.

Waiting at the counter I turned to scan the little lounge, just many studying with their textbooks as heads. Some talking to another. Just the common vibe of any little coffee shop you stepped your foot into.

One of them sticking out like a sore thumb.

Lucy.

Writing in her leather bound journal that rested on her crossed legs, playing with the slight tear in her in the hem of her playful colored dress.

Relaxed and looking out the window on the purple wing-back in the cafe lounge. Watching the shades of orange, red and yellow converse against the blue sky. Admiring her side profile, a high cheek bone with a light dusting of blush against her milky skin, her perfectly rounded jaw. Her lashes curled with a coding of mascara that complimented her baby blues.

I watched as she grazed her bottom rosy lip with the back of her pen in thought.

The red headed barista asked for the second time what I wanted before realizing that she was even speaking. Finding it hard to take my eyes off the scenery near the window. I ordered my black coffee, then pointed out Lucy who looked disappointed in the last drops of her cup. Dark roast, light with vanilla, sugar and two shots of the sleep she had lost the night before.

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

Lucy's POV.

I was finding myself becoming a frequent patient with my therapeutic glances of the vibrant trees and the sounds of the espresso machine. Sitting in the same wingback, looking about the window, stuck in what I was going to jot in my journal next. My first week of being in London and enduring classes was wrapping up, nothing worthy had happened yet to write about and I was finding myself running around a writer's block.

As much as I wanted my creative juices to keep blending. I couldn't complain about how things were going. University has been so far treating me well. I've met a good handful of my professors in Week A, many have taken a liking to me which I couldn't quite grasp. But it wasn't a bad feeling to know about, plus Professor Jones really liked my thesis of A Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. Putting a good word into the librarian of the Uni's library and landing me a interview for Monday.

Things at the university housing with Liz and Abby was going pretty well too. I was growing more fond of them by the minute, both interested in the same type of books, music and films. Liz was a bit realistic and logic about life, which kind of put a damper on things if you were trying to live in a fantasy world with reality biting you in the ass. Then Abby was more free spirited and self aware of what made an individual very much happy, even when the world was not so happy.

Then lastly, home. I finally Skyped my brother Eric and my dad. It was early for them but quite late for me. But in all I was mixed with emotions, both joyful and sad that I wasn't home. They are doing well so far.

I sighed to myself, resting my leather bound on my lap and retreating my blue eyes to the shades of orange, red and yellow. Reaching for the coffee I had finished moments ago, but reluctant to get up and grab another.

But that was before one was brought to me instead. By another thing that I had happened to come across this week.

"Am I intruding?" The English native that I met my first night here had greeted, handing me the warm paper cup with pretty botanical flowers repeated. I shook my head, gesturing my free hand to the wingback across.

Matty sat down, folding his long legs over one another. His eyes meeting mine, smiling softly as his mouth indulged in a sip. Giving me a few moments to admire before another word.

He wasn't wearing his glasses today but his hair was the same as the night I met him. Pulled back into a bun with loose curls shaping out his face. My eyes leading down to his lined out jaw. His collarbones, the tattoo that always made an appearance no matter what type of shirt he wore this week. To the lasting hole over his knee.

I was broken from my stare when he had chuckled, possibly figuring out that I was staring long.

"Anything new?" He asked, his eyes gesturing to my open leather bound. I shook my head, slowly closing it against my knee before my eyes met his again.

He looked at me surprised and in disbelief, "So the storyteller doesn't have a story to tell?" He questioned, resting his cup on the table aside us. I shrugged, it was truly hard to believe but as my mind moved fast the world outside of it didn't and I was at a stand still.

"It just been classes, reading and then some." I finished, finally taking a sip of my coffee.

Matty smiled at me again, a smile I could watch curl at the ends of his mouth like a favorite part to a movie. "We may have to change that." He said, looking at me with tricks under his sleeves and me swimming in his over sized sweater.

I had to cut my coffee break short when I realized I had time run to my next class, Woman Studies.

Shortly becoming my favorite class as we debated fundamental rights and she played Kathleen Hanna fronted Bikini Kill winning my anarchy heart.

"Don't forget to read The Second Sex and please have your reasoning's sent in by 12 AM on Monday." She dismissed. I followed suit with the rest of the class as I packed away my things for the weekend.

Making my way to the hall to get lost in the hundred of others trying to head out and not miss the next Tube coming by. The boy in a leather jacket that I was sharing a coffee with an hour earlier was leaning against the wall next to the door.

His devious smirk gracing upon his face, "I'm feeling like you're onto something." I commented, a small smile plastering across my cheeks. Matty rippled a contagious laugh that I could listen to like an album on my turntable.

"Can't a gentleman just walk a lady home safely?" He remarked.

++

"No! That's a lie!" I laughed, hitting Matty's forearm lightly. We had moved onto music since Matty offered to walk me home. And let's just say we had a few differences.

Matty loved older music, which I did too. But I found Prince to be a bit cooler than MJ. Which didn't sit well with Matty. "Have you heard the magic in Rock With You?" He mentioned, "It's fucking legendary!" It was so funny to see him go off, but I never said I didn't like the man! I knew how the sounds had your hips moving. I was just a Purple Rain kind of girl.

Matty stood in front of me, walking backwards down the sidewalk.

Girl. Close your eyes... He began singing, moving his hips to the beats that played out in his head. Taking my hand, and pulling me close.

Let that rhythm get into you, don't try to fight it. Placing one hand above my hip, the other still in mine. Directing my hips into a sway, as his voice hit me like sweet serenity.

He went on, and I was enjoying every bit of it. Music was his muse like books were mine and he wasn't ashamed to show it. His hips showing that he never stopped moving either.

We had arrived to the front of my flat, Matty belting more songs of MJ.

"I have to get in," I mentioned, not really wanting to do so. Matty's lips kept moving "Not until you change your mind." Singing in the measures of Don't Stop Till You Get Enough.

I chuckled, still dancing with him till I finally caved in. "Alright, Michael Jackson is better." I confessed, meaning every word that fell from my mouth. He just chuckled, pulling me closer and bringing his lips to my ear.

"I think you're lying" his warm breath grazing my lobe. Sending chills down my spine. I went to protest when Liz and Abby got out of their car. Interrupting our manifest. They just softly smiled, saying Hello before retreating up the porch. I looked up at Matty, who still had his hand around my waist.

Matty pulled away with a soft but questionable expression on his face. I wondered what was on his mind.

"Come watch us play tonight." He said, "The boys and I are playing at the bar George's bartends in. I'd like to see you there."

Many different excuses ran through my mind. Studying, catching some sleep, watching the same three episodes of The Office, outline my far along memoir that would be a flop. Just a rush of things that could've fallen from my mouth.

"Alright, sounds like fun." Happened to be the better option.

Matty's smirk turn a bit shy, looking to the ground before he looked back up at me.

"I'll pick you up at 6?" He questioned, I nodded. Still confused on why I was agreeing to this extravaganza in the first place. A smile gracing his face once more before turning on his Vans to head back to where his road led him.

"See you soon, Blue."

[skywalkerrs]

A Embarrassed Teen on Halloween — fluff w/ peter

The logical thing for Peter to dress up as for Halloween would be, well, Spider-Man. There would be no costs, no time spent waiting as May struggled to understand YouTube sewing videos, among other reasons.

He does wear the spider suit, but it becomes an undersuit for a much bulkier, heavier one.

Peter ends up going as Iron Man. He knew there was no possible way to imitate some of the newer nano-tech models, so he designs a suit after the older, more simple ones.

It's not just shapes out of cardboard. He finds scraps of metal, and some red and gold paint, and with the help of Ned he's got a suit that's not half bad. After some thinking he designs a fake arc reactor to be round, to fit the suit model, although he's pretty sure Tony's newest one is a vague diamond shape.

Ned, who had convinced him in the first place to dress up for Halloween despite almost being an adult, says to go for the facial hair too, and before Peter can even begin to say how ridiculous that is, there's brown marker lines on his face.

That had been courtesy of MJ, who surprisingly hung out with them regularly now and even more surprisingly thought the facial hair was funny. She had been the one to draw it on him.

Frustrated, a bit embarrassed, and confused that MJ even liked the idea of Halloween (but, he thought, of course she does. Besides its weird pagan origins, everything about it is something she likes), Peter heads out in the evening as Iron Man, with a nameless vampire and Qui-Gon Jinn beside him.

Few people seem to care that they're older when they go trick or treating. For the few people that do, MJ manages to convince them that they're all just chaperoning their little siblings, and then things continue on smoothly.

"I can't believe it! Extra large candy bars!"

"Did you see him? Those candy bars costed him less than his watch."

"Guys, it's kinda hard to see in the dark with sunglasses on."

They all stop walking down the sidewalk, and the two look to Peter as he takes the sunglasses off that he had borrowed from MJ, who had borrowed them from her father.

"But the look's not complete without them," Ned tells him.

"Well...I have the same eye color as him. Isn't that good enough?" Peter shrugs. He puts the sunglasses on his pile of candy in his bag. "We should hurry, it's getting late."

They walk quickly, stopping briefly at the house at the end of the block, before venturing towards the heart of the city. They avoid Halloween house parties that spill outside onto the streets as they make their way to a certain destination.

Some companies are putting out a lot of candy for anyone who's letting their kids walk through the busy city to their company offices late at night. That happens to mean Iron Man, a vampire, and Qui-Gon Jinn.

Ned begins to lead the way, excited when a brightly lit building is across the street from them. All the lights are on, shining through the windows, and animated Halloween decorations wait by the front doors.

Peter sees several people moving about inside the lobby and frowns. "Are you sure it's not an office party? I don't know if we should go."

"We definitely should."

"What?"

But Ned's already crossing the street, so Peter rushes to catch up with MJ close behind. Sure enough, by a cobweb covered skeleton there's a witch's cauldron of candy and a sign saying "one per person please". It's in front of a pillar a few yards from the doors, and as Ned sneaks two pieces of candy, Peter can't help but look at who's inside.

There's men and women waking and talking, drinking alcohol and eating platters of cheese, but they're all in formal clothes rather than in costumes.

Peter feels one of his friends dump candy into his bag for him, but it's not enough for him to look away. He thought he saw someone vaguely familiar, but now their back is turned and they're walking away. Before he can see them disappear out of view, someone cuts in front by the doors.

Peter pales when he locks eyes with the person, and suddenly remembers that he's got brown fucking magic marker on his face.

"What!?" Peter grabs MJ's arm and makes a run for it. Ned yells at him but catches up, and the three of them spill candy as they round a sharp corner and dodge a woman getting into a cab.

Peter briefly glances to make sure the sunglasses are still there. He doesn't slow down until they're four blocks north and MJ pulls her arm away to stop and catch her breath.

"God, Peter! What was that about?" Ned gasps, hunched over.

Peter sighs and picks up a candy bar that fell out of Ned's bag. "Sorry, man." He returns the candy bar to his bag, then looks at Ned with hesitation. "I saw Mr. Stark. He was there, at that office party."

MJ narrows her eyes, but not in an accusatory way. "Why would Tony Stark be at an office party on Halloween?"

"Maybe it was a charity event, I don't know. But he saw me, he saw me like this." Peter gestures to himself.

"Are you sure he saw you? It's dark outside."

"There were streetlights, and I have a glowing circle on my chest, Ned. I think he knows what that is. It lights up like half of my face."

He goes over to planted flowers nearby and sits on one of the four low brick walls that acts as the flower pot. The trio is silent for a moment. MJ starts to shiver as the cold night wind picks up.

Then Ned speaks up and says, "Isn't that a good thing? Tony Stark saw your awesome costume of him. He saw that you chose to be him for Halloween. It's like, an honor to be someone you would want to dress up as."

Peter doesn't know how to respond to that, but he's flattered.

Then: "...yeah," MJ agrees while avoiding their gaze. "It is pretty, uh, cool. And you did good on your costume..."

Peter looks at both of them, and heat spreads to his cheeks. He stands up. "We should go home," is all he says in response. "I'll give you all the sour candy," he tells Ned. And to MJ, "Uh, you can have all the white chocolate I got."

"Oh...Thanks."

They take a moment to see where they are, then head their way back to May's apartment, where Ned will spend the night and MJ's mother will pick her up. Despite the cold, they walk slowly, not wanting the night to really end.

Iron Man, a vampire, and Qui-Gon Jinn get to May's apartment quite late, and MJ's mother is already there waiting. The two say goodbye, then head inside.

Armor comes off, then the spider suit, and in their place Peter puts on sweatpants and a comfy sweater. While Ned sorts the candy and puts the white chocolate to the side to give to MJ later, Peter checks his phone which he hadn't been able to take with him considering the suit had no pockets.

"Ned," Peter blurts as he stares at his phone screen.

"What's wrong?"

Peter turns his phone around and shows him the text message.

Hey kid. Was that you out there? Gotta say, the suit was impressive. Say hi to your friends and Aunt May for me, and don't let all that candy rot your guys' teeth.

Also, nice touch with the beard. But just don't ever tell me if you used Sharpie.

-T.S.

"...I can never show my face in front of him again."

Ned bites his lip. "Uh, about that...? You've still got the beard."

Peter groans, and shoves his face with candy.

– end x

[wildroseofarran]

Pain, Relief, Closure || Kelly, Pete, Fletcher, Q, June, Emmanuel, Peabody, & Bridget

Fletcher: {Text to Peter Graham from Fletcher Goodman} FedEx guy swapped our shit

Pete/June: Pete was caught off guard so much by the name on his screen that he just stared at his phone for a few moments until June poked him.

"Respond!"

"What?"

"This is your chance! Respond, respond!"

"Okay! Jesus."

{Text to Fletcher} All right, I'll be over to get it in a second

{Text to Fletcher} Do I have one of yours?

Fletcher: {Text} Should have a small box of some cleaner I ordered

Fletcher held his breath and dropped his phone face-down. Enough of that. He tried to focus on - what was he doing?

Pete/June: He looked to June, who was reading over his shoulder. "Do we?"

"Maybe? I'll go look in the closet."

Sure enough, Fletcher's box of cleaner was sitting where their shipment of napkins was supposed to be.

{Text} Yeah I got it

{Text} Be across in a sec

Fletcher: Fletcher smoothed his hair, which he had allowed to grow for the last several months, longing for the length of his college years. His beard, finally trimmed, was given a feel as well. His navy blue shirt felt, collar fixed.

This didn't matter. Just shut the fuck up and make the trade.

The box was dropped on the counter. Here, he would wait, stomach contorting into knots.

Pete: Pete shrugged on his jacket and took a deep breath. This shouldn't feel as weird as it did. It wasn't like he was doing anything groundbreaking or foreign. He was just going across the street to get a package. Simple, right?

If only it felt that way.

He crossed the street, balanced the box of cleaner on his arm, and opened the door like he did this every day.

"Hey."

Fletcher: A visibly painful breath escaped as through from the pit of his stomach. No forced smile, but forced composure.

"Hey yourself."

Pete: At least he wasn't the only one who was nervous.

"I believe this belongs to you." He held up the box. "You'd think after all these years he'd learn to look at the shipping labels."

Fletcher: "Yeah, well..." The Samsa swallowed. He didn't know what he had expected from this, but laying eyes on the man he'd avoided for months, to truly see him without the dull sepia of a Samantha, he might as well have been that greasy teenager injured by Marion's lies.

"Here it is." The box was given a pat.

Pete: For Pete's part, this interaction was already surpassing his wildest expectations. He didn't want there to be any hostility between them, however much reason there might be for it to exist.

"And here's yours." He set the box of cleaner down. "Sorry if it took a while, my bartender signed for the delivery this week."

Fletcher: "Kay. So..." Yeah. He would open the box to see for himself. Something, anything for him to tear his eyes away.

Pete: Silence was worse than strained conversation. He had to say something.

"So how've you been? I see you grew your hair out."

Fletcher: "I just... wanted it." Another useless clearing of his throat. "Ya look... good."

Pete: "Suits you." Pete offered a smile. Not a weird one or a forced one or a polite one, just a small, genuine smile. "Thanks. I feel pretty good. Year off to a decent start?"

Fletcher: Might as well rip the bandaid. "Gettin' married. Spring, I think."

Pete: Aaaand there went the genuine part of the smile.

“I heard.”

Fletcher: "Figured ya would."

Pete: “Small town.”

Fletcher: Enough of that. "Thanks for the box." He forced a smile and began to break down the package. He'd keep his eyes to himself.

Pete: "Sure, no problem. Thanks for mine. Oh, um, June told me to tell you that she's inviting you to dinner at her house."

Fletcher: "When?"

Pete: "She said you have a choice between Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday."

Fletcher: "Right. Guess I'll give her a text." Didn't seem right to make Peter the messenger. But now he was left with nothing else to say. He knew the answers. How was he? He was well. His sister was having a baby, and Peter was a family man. Where was MJ? Anywhere but here. But then again...

"How's um..."

Pete: "I'll let her know." June could've texted Fletcher herself, of course, but she hadn't been able to pass up the opportunity to extend this visit for these two men she loved.

Pete gave Fletcher a gently expectant look. "Yeah?"

Fletcher: "...Nah. S'nothin'. Ain't my business. Anyway, thanks." This was what he did. How obvious that he would shrink in on himself. He was out of his element. As though their intimate nights, their lapses in judgment in the back room merely a figment of fantasy, forged on some particularly lonesome evening alone with his thoughts.

Pete: So close, yet so far. A perfect portrait of their entire relationship really.

"All right, well, you know where to find me if you wanna ask." Pete balanced the box of napkins against his arm. "I'll tell June that you'll text her."

Fletcher: "Ya ain't gotta tell her anything."

Pete: His real smile made a soft return. "I know. I still will."

Fletcher: "Ya know why-" The Samsa made a bitten off sound. A protest he couldn't heed. "-why you're here n'not her."

Pete: "I'm surprised I am, but I don't really know why I am beyond you maybe wanting to say hello?"

Fletcher: "Me wantin' t'say hello?"

Pete: "That's the only reason I can think of for why I'm here instead of June."

Fletcher: "It wasn't...me."

Pete: Pete’s brow furrowed. “What wasn’t you?”

Fletcher: "Ya know it was June. You're fuckin' with me."

Pete: Pete looked genuinely confused. “June told the delivery guy to mix up the packages?”

Fletcher: "No, that you're - that you're here t'pick this up n'not her - just forget it."

Pete: “June—did June ask you to text me to come get the package?”

Fletcher: "No, I was stupid."

Pete: “You’re not.”

Fletcher: "Right." Peter would get a wave goodbye.

Pete: “...Okay then. Thanks.” He nodded to Fletcher and headed for the door.

Fletcher: Stupid, stupid, stupid. He had meant to text June. He would swear by it. Yet it had been Peter Graham -- for some fucking reason his name was still in his phone. For some reason it had been that name - and he just couldn't steady his thoughts. His tongue wagged and he was helpless. Reckless.

The box was shoved from the counter the moment the bell jingled its goodbye.

- Two Days Ago -

Kelly: Kelly white-knuckled the bathroom sink and took slow, shaky breaths in and out.

Fuck he shouldn't have come in. He should've stayed home.

The pain that had begun in his hip had radiated outward until every last bone in his body felt like it hurt and for his rotten fucking luck he was tapped out of Vicodin. It would be six weeks before he could get a refill.

Fucking opioid panic.

He had to do something. He needed something or he wasn't going to make it through the next twenty-four hours, much less the next six weeks before he could get his prescription.

Another shaky breath. "Fuck."

He limped his way out of the bathroom and looked around the bar. O'Charlie's was quiet and sketchy and filled with melancholy as usual, but what he needed wasn't there.

"Dwight! I'm taking my dinner break!"

Q: Q passed two rum fireballs to Stacey, waving her off and rolling his shoulders. This wasn't a Pete's Pub kind of night, it seemed. The younger, vibrant crowd wanted to dance, make out in the darker corners, and throw their weight around with burning stomachs as fuel. His kind of night, but he wasn't nineteen with a fake ID anymore. This was a night to get paid.

Kelly: The Brig was close enough that on a good day, Kelly could've walked and been there pretty quickly.

Or on a bad day like today, close enough that he could drive there at break-neck speed without running the risk of the cops catching him speeding.

He didn't quite bust through the door--the limp prevented that--but he zeroed in on the bar and its tender with the single-minded intensity of a man on the brink.

The crowd and the music might as well not have existed; he was only there for the man known as Q.

Kelly approached the quietest end of the bar and waited to catch Q's attention.

Q: Not much of a feat for a man on guard. A smile, creasing the ends of his mouth, slowly diminishing with every step closer to his newest patron. That sexual energy he could read with absolute literacy was nonexistent.

"You look like shit," he greeted. "The hell are you doing here?"

Kelly: He knew he looked like shit. He hadn't been sleeping well for the past month, every single micromovement he made hurt like fuck. It was exhausting being in this much pain.

"I need help," he said slowly. Emphatically. Desperately.

Q: Elbows on the counter. Q leaned forward, studying the man from head to shoulders.

"What kind of pain is it?"

Kelly: "It feels like someone stuffed my body into a trash compactor. Everything hurts."

Q: "Why haven't you been to the emergency room?"

Kelly: "I've done this dance for years and I can't get more Vicodin for weeks now can you help me or not?"

Q: "Vicodin?" He thought for a moment. "I'll get it. Before I leave. How long can you stay?"

Kelly: "Vicodin, oxy, heroin, I don't care, man. I just need something." He looked at his watch. It was a slow-ish night.

"I can stay forty-five minutes."

Q: His phone was already out. "I might have to come to you, but I'm on it." Kelly was still a new face, but he could read honesty when it was staring him in the eyes.

"Hey, what do you wanna drink? On the house."

Kelly: Thank fucking god. He just might make it through the next twenty-four hours after all.

"Triple bourbon, neat. Thanks."

Q: "You got it. Hungry at all? Fried fish tacos tonight. I'll hook you up."

Kelly: "Might as well." It was his dinner break, after all.

He eased himself onto a stool with great effort and silently begged for death.

Q: Firstly, the bourbon. Slid his way after a quick smile and word to Stacey. Kelly was none of her business, and he intended to keep it that way.

Kelly: The bourbon was downed with gratitude. He wasn't in the mood for savoring, he just needed something to take the edge off. This dull pain was so much worse than anything sharp he'd ever experienced.

Sharp pain just killed you. Dull pain made you lose your mind.

Q: Q glanced to his phone for the third time. Still nothing. Tony had to be at work. Shitty, but he'd hear back soon enough. The man was addicted to the screen.

"Want another? I'll drive ya wherever."

Kelly: "One more. Gotta get back to work after this." And he couldn't give the appearance of resuming his shift drunk off his ass, much as he wanted to be.

Q: One more, and a round of beers for a table across the bar, close to the dance floor. Nearly ten minutes and a plate of fish tacos later did his phone finally vibrate.

"Hey, he'll be here in thirty. Either you're late back or I'll come to you."

Kelly: There truly was a god. He might just have to pop into the church to light a candle in homage. "I can be late. We're not busy right now anyway."

Q: "How long have you been like this, man?"

Kelly: “Ran out of pills a few days ago. Been downhill from there.”

Q: "Want something to smoke, too? I got you covered."

Kelly: “I’d have gone down that road already if I could. Lungs are fucked.” Along with every other part of this damn body.

Q: "You have asthma or something?"

Kelly: “Inhaled smoke and hot air during a fire.”

Q: "You look like a million bucks, sweetheart." A soft pat to his shoulder. "Or you will soon."

Kelly: “I’ll settle for looking like a buck fifty if I can get some relief.”

Q: Soon. "How're the tacos?"

Kelly: "Pretty good. Better than I expected actually."

Q: "Better than I expected too," said under his breath. "It's a hit or miss here.”

Kelly: "Didn't think ya'll did food beyond fried things."

Q: "Trust me, we don't. Tried doing caprese salad once. Didn't go over well. We're not in Europe."

Kelly: "This is the wrong crowd for that. This crowd just wants Jaeger shots and bass."

Q: "Not a bad crowd, just different."

Kelly: "Sometimes it's needed." Like today. His night would be extra miserable if he was working at Pete's. He'd have to endure so much more than pain.

Q: A question spurred from somewhere within. One he kept to himself. The first, it seemed, as far as intuition with Kelly. Pocketed for later. This was not Kelly's night.

True to Q's word, a man walked in at the appointed hour. Still in his hardware polo and as tired as Kelly looked.

The man took a seat beside Kelly, smiling politely at his bartender.

"Gimmie somethin' I shouldn't drive home after drinkin'."

"You got it."

"Where is-"

Q gestured vaguely to the man by his side.

Kelly: It seemed like a hundred years passed before his salvation arrived and even in a hardware polo, he looked like a goddamn angel.

"Yeah, me. Help me."

Q: Q left them alone to discuss the details. None of which were his business. He knew his friend to be fair when sober, and his first drink was now.

Kelly: Kelly's request was simple. Probably concerning, but simple.

"I need all of the Vicodin that you have. That's not an exaggeration. You did not hear 'I want a lot of Vicodin'. I meant exactly what I said. If you don't have it, I'll take oxy. I'll take heroin. I'll take crystal fucking meth. Just please, god, give me some relief, my body hurts."

Q: A question asked of anyone with such blatant demand was if this was some kind of suicide attempt. The man was obviously in pain, but his desperation was enough to make a man shift in his seat.

"I'll give you two now, n'I wanna see ya take em." Words muttered under breath before large gulps of dark bitter beer.

Kelly: "Trust me, if I was gonna off myself, I would've done it long before tonight. Unassisted. I'll take the two and thank you for all eternity."

Q: "Hey, man, I get it." He dropped his hand with dead weight onto the counter, explaining how every other finger was held together with steel. A construction job traded for a hardware store with less pay. Such was life. He understood, but he wanted his money.

Kelly: Kelly would all but throw it at him. Probably too much, he hadn't counted it. He'd just grabbed a wad from his stash before he'd left for work, having anticipated ending up doing exactly what he was doing.

Q: Under the counter. A hot fist with two white pills tapped against his knee. Q saw to his duties, smiled when appropriate and once quite inappropriately to a woman in a blue dress and her disapproving male counterpart.

Kelly: He'd never experienced such instant mental relief. And if he had, it had been years.

Kelly swallowed the pills dry and thanked his savior.

- Present -

Fletcher: Fletcher had paced the ugly brown carpet flat. This was stupid. He was stupid. Having expected in any measure for Peter to have sent June had been reckless. His stomach had known what his head and heart couldn't bear. He'd fumbled his words. He'd made things worse. He felt sick.

And all for a man that didn't love him.

A shot glass was the last thing on his mind. Straight from the bottle of honey whiskey.

This was fine. This was the natural order of things. He was getting married. Whenever it was Marion decided to set a date. He didn't fucking know.

He stared into his half-finished bottle. He should have been himself. Take it all back and just go back to a few years ago. There were more important things on his agenda. Had to be something.

June/Kelly: "I think you're coming down with something," June said to Kelly as she put chairs on top of their respective tables. He usually did this, but he didn't look like he could lift a feather right now.

Kelly put away the last of the glasses and tried not to wince. "What makes you say that?"

"Well for one, it's usually you doing this instead of me. For two, you're all pale and sweaty and if I had to guess, you're clammy, too. I think you have a fever."

If only. "M'fine. Gonna take out the trash."

"That's okay, I can--"

Kelly shook his head. "It's fine, I got it."

It wasn't and he didn't, but he'd rather balance the trash bag and his cane than stand there looking like shit and feeling like shit.

Fletcher: Fletcher checked his watch. Still time. The shop sign was flipped closed. Door locked. The back room was thick with the stench of cigarettes. A habit he needed to rid himself. A stench others could all too easily catch.

Away with his shoe. Away with a Samantha out a hidden passageway.

Kelly: “Fucking...opioid...fucking....crisis,” Kelly muttered in between steps, adjusting his grip on the trash bag. “Fucking—do-gooder fucking—drug dealer.”

He braced himself against the dumpster and hissed out a breath. “Since when does a fucking dealer have morals, fuck’s sake.” Man was as bad as the doctor, rationing out his meds. One didn’t want him turning into a junkie and the other thought he was going to OD. Couldn’t catch a fucking break.

Should’ve bought heroin, he thought as he struggled to lift the bag into the dumpster.

He barely got it to shoulder-height before the cloud cover above him moved away and cool, ethereal light filled the alleyway.

“.....oh, fuck....”

Fletcher: Hardly any toes left. Something to keep his mind occupied. The Harrak house; the hospital; the police station; a handful of vampires, to say the least; a dangerous game of hide and seek at his mother's tiny house. One across the street.

His eyes drifted, checking each Samantha.

June/Kelly: "No no no no no, please, please! Not here, no n--AGH!"

 A sharp crack had June's head whipping around. "Kelly? Was that you?"

 "Please, PLEASE--gah!" Another crack, two, three. Kelly's legs buckled beneath him as his bones began the excruciating process of reforming. It hadn't always been this bad. It hadn't always been this hard, this unwelcome.

Now there was only pain.

 "Kelly?!" June headed for the back. "Kelly, is that you? Are you okay?"

Fletcher: Fletcher turned to face the frame covered wall. Behind it was brick, and the street, and the pub. Through the crack in the wall yet to be fixed. A single glance.

{Text to Peter} Pub NOW

June shouldn't have been there. Do-gooder sweetheart, helping a man that probably didn't deserve it. Nature could have run its course if not for this one variable.

The door slammed behind, rattling at its edges.

Pete/June: Pete's stomach twisted into knots the moment he got the notification on his phone.

{Text} What happened? What's wrong?

Fuck. He couldn't just up and leave, Graham was asleep in his lap. But what if something was really wrong?

"Goddammit."

 God, what was that horrible sound? It sounded like branches breaking or something.

Oh shit, what if Kelly's cane had broken somehow and he'd fallen? He could be trying to get back up.

June jogged the rest of the way to the back entrance. The door was still open.

"I'm coming, Kelly," she called, stepping out into the alley. "Are you okay? Are you h--holygod!"

Fletcher: A body slammed hard against the dusty brown brick of the alleyway. Fletcher bounced his shoulder from the wall into a defensive stance. A gruff man to say the least, but nothing as intimidating as the scene before him. Not yet.

"Get back inside, June."

June: June didn't seem to hear him. She was frozen to the spot, eyes wide and horrified as the animal-like mass on the concrete a few yards ahead of her shifted and writhed and made that awful cracking sound.

"I-is--that's...oh, god..."

The mass of cracking bones and torn flesh was Kelly.

Fletcher: The only defense between June and jaws. He couldn't afford to tear his attention away. If he had to intimidate her to safety so be it.

"Get inside, June! NOW!"

June/Kelly: It was hard to tell whether it was the volume of Fletcher's voice or the tone, but either way it had her scrambling back to hide just inside the door.

Her heart was going a mile a minute, breathing quick and growing more panicked with every new crack, every tortured yelp, every godawful wet sound coming from the alley.

 It was like being flayed alive. Any fluidity and ease had long ago been erased, severed when they'd severed him from the moon.

She seemed to mock him now as she forced him to change, as she punished him for their sins.

Scarred skin and fabric gave way to matted, patchy fur. Bones struggled to shift correctly, one leg seemed to atrophy and turn lame as with one last strangled cry, a dire wolf emerged where Kelly had been.

Fletcher: This was never a scenario Fletcher had prepared himself for. A bar fight; a troublesome vampire; for Peter to accidentally change. Kelly had a stench to him. Unmistakable. A viable excuse to maintain surveillance. He wondered now if he had cursed them.

Fletcher hunched his back, shoulders tight but hands loose, ready to snatch a wolf from pounce. He doubted this would end well. Never fucking did with wolves.

"Kelly!" he shouted. "Look at me. Can ya fuckin' hear me?"

June/Kelly: The wolf snarled and snapped its jaws in warning. Its eyes were feral, devoid of any understanding or acknowledgement.

 "Oh my god. Oh my god." June slipped back behind the door and squeezed her eyes shut. This wasn't happening this couldn't be happening things like this didn't happen.

You're dreaming, she told herself, hugging her arms around her middle. You're dreaming this is a dream it's not real, it's not real, it can't be real!

Fletcher: A wolf like this, would he retain this memory? Carried knowledge in the same manner as a Samsa?

The sharp screech from his throat an equal warning. Hunched forward, meeting the creature at eye level. Back bowed and threatening.

June/Kelly: June's eyes flew open. That sound....that wasn't--what was that?

Steeling herself, she dared to peek around the doorframe and immediately had to cover her mouth to keep from screaming. Kelly was gone. The horrible pile of flesh was gone. In its place was--holy god. That was a wolf. That was the biggest fucking wolf she'd ever seen. No no no no, th-that was--was that Kelly? He was--and Fletcher--had that sound come from Fletcher?

The wolf growled again, desperation and its fight or flight response making it take a careful step forward. The wolf wanted out. The wolf wanted the woods, wanted freedom, and Fletcher was standing between it and the way out of the alley.

It crouched and measured the space.

Fletcher: He couldn't let Kelly go. Not this deep into town. Much against his mother's wishes and against his better interest, this had become his purpose.

"Calm the fuck down."

Where the fuck was Peter?

Pete/Kelly/Emmanuel: "What's going on?" Emmanuel whisper yelled to Pete as he took the sleeping bundle that was Graham from his arms. "What happened at the pub? Where's Stella and Ryan?"

"They're at a wedding in Savannah with my parents," Pete whispered back. "I don't know what happened at the pub, I just know it's an emergency and you were on the way." He kissed his nephew's head. God love him for being such a heavy sleeper. "You sure this is okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine, go. I'll look after him."

"Thanks, man, I owe you one."

"Just be careful. And call Brett if it's bad."

"I will."

Pete practically flew back down Emmanuel's walkway to his car and floored it to the pub.

{Text to Fletcher} On my way

{Text to Fletcher} Do I need to call Brett?

 There was no sign of understanding, only more snapping and snarling and slow, deliberate steps forward. Perhaps it was a warning. Perhaps it was careless. Perhaps it was both.

But all Kelly could see through the haze of pain and anger was the freedom just beyond Fletcher.

He leapt forward.

Fletcher: There were too many possibilities Fletcher couldn't allow in his escape. His back bowed, gaining height and the beginnings of chitin on his forearms. As the creature leapt, the Samsa made a grab for whatever he could. He would use his center of gravity to his advantage in an effort to bring the creature onto its side. Enough reasoning at this point.

Kelly: The leap had accounted and calculated for the height of a man; not the height of what that man was becoming before his eyes. It all happened too quickly for the wolf to make out what it was, but it didn't matter.

Balance already off, Kelly was caught by his useless back leg and hit the unforgiving concrete. Hard.

His fight was pure pain response. He scrambled to try to get away from the creature, growling and biting anywhere he could in his attempt to free himself of the threat.

Fletcher: "Fuckin' stay!" This was exactly why he fucking hated dogs. The wolf was yanked by his useless limb and pulled underneath his weight. Forearm to his face, elbow against its snapping muzzle. He'd participated in enough fights with Garou over the years to know how to deal with less than friendly jaws. Less dangerous forcing the mouth wide than trying to keep it closed.

His voice was becoming hoarse, broken by sharp clicks and screeches. "Swear t'fuckin' god, Kelly, I will put ya down if ya don't chill!"

Pete/Kelly/June: Pete couldn't have begun to guess what sort of scene was going to greet him when he arrived at the pub. Fletcher hadn't answered; he was flying blind.

Perhaps that was why he felt so unsettled as he pulled up to a still scene.

He could hear some sort of sound coming from somewhere but couldn't see the source. The lights were still on. Blinds still open. No movement inside. He couldn't tell if that was reassuring.

He got out of his car and unlocked the door as quickly as he could, immediately looking around for June and Kelly. Nothing. The cleaning supplies were still out. Only about three quarters of the chairs rested on top of their respective tables. But no June and Kelly. There was only that sound he'd heard earlier, which was louder now.

It wasn't coming from the main room. It wasn't muffled enough to be coming from upstairs. Could it be coming from backstage or one of the storage rooms? Were June and Kelly there too?

He ducked behind the bar, intending to check on each of the closets and the kitchen when he turned and saw the door to the alley wide open. And hiding just behind the frame, peeking outside, a petite figure he immediately recognized as June.

"June?" he called, startling her into turning around.

The look in her eyes slammed into Pete like a ton of bricks. Even in the low light, he could see how pale she was, how she trembled in fear.

Pete crossed to her in a second, pressing his keys into her hand and ushering her away from whatever untold horror was in the alley. "Take my car and go home, right now!"

"I--"

"NOW!"

 What came out of Kelly's mouth wasn't a growl; it couldn't even be called a howl. There wasn't enough fight in it for that, if there was any fight in him at all.

It was a scream. It was raw, exhausted anguish. The woods were so far away. He couldn't see them anymore, couldn't see anything except a haze of red that he didn't realize was blood. He could only feel pain, could only hear voices. One angry, and one that called, "Fletcher!"

Fletcher: He knew that voice. Recognized the tone and every emotion behind it. That blame which lay in his name better than anything else. He was a disgusting thing doing a disgusting job. His arms were covered in chitin. Fingers filed to sharpened points, where nail and bone and skin became a single entity. Eyes of rich amber glowing through the limited light at the Gurahl. What would be his superior, had he been anything but a Mockery.

"Help me!" he screeched.

Pete: Pete couldn't begin to name the emotions he was feeling. All he saw was Fletcher--in many ways as if the first time--and the giant, thrashing wolf he had pinned beneath him.

He rushed over, careful to avoid claws and jaws. Kelly was making a sound that was making every hair on Pete's body stand on end. "Fletch, come on, let him up. Let him up, you won, he's not fighting you!"

Fletcher: "No shit he's not fightin' me! M'not lettin' a wolf loose on this fuckin' town. I don't care how injured it is!"

Pete: "Then I'll take him with me to the woods! He won't be loose!"

Fletcher: "Move your goddamn hands n'do somethin'!"

Pete/Kelly: "Dammit, Fletcher, let him--fuck."

Pete pulled a pendant from under his shirt as he crouched beside Kelly's head.

His bartender was still making that godawful sound and trying to move from underneath Fletcher's weight, to no avail. Kelly's pain was plainly obvious when he was up and human; now it was nearly unbearable to see.

Sooner or later someone was going to hear and either come looking and call the sheriff, and then they would really have a problem on their hands.

"Kelly. Kelly! I need you to calm down." Pete pulled his necklace up over his head and clasped it in one hand while gingerly attempting to place the other on the wolf's head.

Not an easy task with Kelly just waiting to clamp his jaws down on something.

"I'm gonna make you feel better, okay?" he said as gently as he could. "I'm gonna try. It won't hurt you more, it's just green light. You ever heard of Druids? It's just some of their magic. It'll help, I promise."

He squeezed the pendant tighter, willing its magic forward.

Fletcher: "He can't fuckin' understand ya. I've tried! Don't ya think I've tried?!" But then again, maybe true breeds understood one another. He didn't fucking know. But this was somehow his fucking fault. Where would June be right now had he not bolted across the street? Peter would say she would have been fine. He was sinking into self-doubt and further paranoia.

One more snap at Peter, though, and that muzzle was going to be wrapped.

Pete/Kelly: Fletcher was right; Kelly showed no more signs of understanding Pete than he had of understanding him. At the moment it was hard to say whether that would've been the case in different circumstances, but as things stood, Kelly understood nothing and perceived everything as a threat.

That didn't mean Pete was going to stop trying, however.

"Come on, Kelly, try to think through it. You've gotta try." Pete squeezed the pendant harder. What the hell was taking it so long?! "I've almost got it, Kelly, you're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay, Kelly. That's your name, remember? Kelly George Rose. You've gotta understand that, you--fucking finally!"

At long last, a soft green light had begun to flow from the pendant. Pete immediately pressed it against the wolf's head, hoping the bit of magic would help calm and relieve him.

"Fletch, you have to let go of his leg. We have no chance of getting him to calm down if you don't."

Fletcher: Fletcher lifted onto one of his now amber elbows. A soft crunch of not-skin against concrete. He'd release the leg, focus almost entirely on snapping jaws and frantic claws.

"Lemme guess. France?"

Pete/Kelly: Pete shook his head, gaze trained on Kelly. "Callum's cousin."

There was a rush of something that could technically be called relief but fell far short of the mark. It wasn't really relief in the sense Pete had been hoping; it was just a bit less pain.

Kelly continued to struggle, more weakly but with the same amount of desperation.

At the very least, the screaming had stopped.

Fletcher: "Where d'ya wanna take him?" Because this alleyway shit had to end. He turned, checking for June. A sound, a scent. On guard while Peter did whatever it was he was doing.

Pete: "The woods. I have more of this magic along the riverbank. The pendant only has so much."

Fletcher: Fletcher closed his eyes. The fight against his nature in order to set himself to rights was painful as always, but an otherwise thoughtless transition.

"Help me get him up."

Pete: Thoughtless on Fletcher's part but definitely not Pete's. When this was over and done with he was going to have to take a second to process everything he was witnessing.

"Not yet. Give it another second." He didn't trust that Kelly wouldn't snap right now. Best to let the magic work a little bit. "Anyone pawn an ATV recently?"

Fletcher: "What? No. He can fit in the back of my Dart." He'd have to, torn upholstery be damned. One more idea. It had been some time since he'd looked, but, "How crowded is the attic?"

Pete: "We won't be able to get to the part of the riverbank we need to in a car. I usually hike out there on foot or walk there in bear form."

Pete's brow furrowed. "The attic? There's no magic in the attic."

Fletcher: "I don't give a fuck about magic right now, Peter. We just need him where humans can't fuckin' see. Make him walk with ya when he's got two semi-functional legs in the mornin'."

Pete: "He won't be seen by anyone if we take him to the woods. He'll be out of sight and he'll get some relief for his pain. He's not just some wolf, Fletch, I see this man every day. He works for me."

Fletcher: "Why does no one in this goddamn town have any fuckin' sense of self-preservation." A hand was thrown about. "Whatever then. Ya deal with it."

Pete: "My self doesn't need to be preserved, his does. What would putting him in the attic do that taking him to the woods wouldn't?"

Fletcher: "Uh, expose him t'fuckin' people."

Pete: "And who exactly is going to see him deep in the woods? There's more risk keeping him here. I'd be truly surprised if someone hasn't already called Brett because a wild animal was screaming in town."

Fletcher: "We're not in the fuckin' woods, Peter."

Pete: "So let's get there! And if you don't want to help me that's fine!" He could call Callum to help him. He'd be able to provide magic and possible transport.

Fletcher: "You're out of your goddamn mind." The wolf - because that's all it was in this form - was lifted in impatient arms. So goddamn ignorant and no sense of safety for himself or those in this town. Absolutely ridiculous. Pentex could have Peter's head tomorrow and it would be his own fucking fault.

But no matter the torture, he was in love with this idiot bear. If he breached the veil for anyone, it seemed, it would be in the name of half-love.

"Let's fuckin' go then."

Pete/Kelly: The wolf wasn't exactly going to go easily. Just like in his human form, any amount of movement at all sent waves of pain and discomfort all throughout his body. This amount of magic had been intended to help Pete sleep or meditate, not offer relief to a horribly injured direwolf. The most it could do was offer a calming effect.

"Since when is helping a friend being out of my mind? The goddamn woods are the safest place for him and for everyone else. He's out of sight to them, and they are to him."

Pete tried to keep the pendant pressed to Kelly's head as best he could as they started for the woods. Tried being the operative word. There was still a lot of snarling and struggling and there would no doubt be more as the magic ran out.

They just needed to get inside the tree line. They needed to get at least that far.

Fletcher: "We gotta go through fuckin' buildings, train track, homes, Peter. Homes. I don't know how this ain't gettin' through t'ya. Ya hang out with that druid way too fuckin' much."

Pete: "The hell are we, ghosts? We're not going through anything. Vampires didn't take over this place for the flurry of activity. It's nearly three a.m., there's no one out in the back streets to see what's happening."

Fletcher: "They didn't make this place an Elysium by marchin' a fuckin' werewolf through the goddamn streets just 'cause 78% of people are asleep."

Pete: "No, they did it by covering shit up which is exactly what we're doing."

Not a single major street would be taken if Pete had anything to do with it. Back streets and alleys only. Not a single streetlamp would be walked under. He wanted to take the most lowkey route possible while also doing it as quickly as possible.

Not an easy feat, but then Edenton wasn't terribly large.

Fletcher: "I'm so grateful you're such an expert now. Really, it brings me peace of mind that all my upbringing and knowledge is a goddamn lie."

Pete: Pete tried his best not to give Fletcher a snippy reply back. It would be far too easy to fall into an argument just for its own sake and they had a very pressing issue to deal with.

"Really, with the sarcasm? You telling me vampires aren't like the goddamn mob? I'm not trying to make your life hard, Fletcher, I'm trying to help Kelly."

Fletcher: "The sake of one over many." He was angry in the moment. Flabbergasted at the situation he'd allowed Peter to place them in. Pissed beyond measure that Kelly thought he could work under such condition. The man was gonna get a fair right hook in the proper moment.

"You're..." A glance at the moon. "Is it a tattoo? That necklace? Why ain't ya changed, too?"

Pete: "The many are tucked away at home right now and they're not my concern. My concern is my friend and if that really steams your clams that goddamn badly, I'll look after Kelly on my own!"

The green glow seemed dimmer. The magic was running out. Or maybe it was his own paranoia making it seem that way.

"Callum's cousin helped me. I couldn't change tonight, I'm looking after Graham."

Fletcher: "Ya do that enough you're gonna break yourself. But whatever." That was becoming the theme for everything tonight. He knew truths, but whatever. Feelings outweighed facts apparently.

Until it didn't, and a door just yards away opened with a slam. Less than a second and Fletcher was on his knees, armful or wolf and eyes caught in moonlight.

Pete: "Is there anything you're not gonna fucking jump down my throat about tonight? This is the first time I've ever done it and it'll most likely be the last. My nine year-old nephew was my only fucking reason."

He could've kept going, but the sound of that door made every drop of blood in his body run cold.

Fuckfuckfuck they needed a shadow any shadow please god don't let them look in our direction--

Fletcher: "Just don't move," he whispered. "You're fine, Peter."

Pete: Forget moving, Pete barely breathed. He motioned for Fletcher to be quiet; even that whisper sounded way too loud.

It had been a back door opening. He heard shuffling footsteps, a clinking sound followed a dull thud.

He finally let himself relax when the door slammed shut a few moments later. "Who the fuck takes out the trash at three in the morning?" he hissed, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"We're not gonna make it before the amulet runs out, we need Cal."

Fletcher: Fletcher's face could best be described as deadpan, seeing as he was the point attempting to reassure Peter. Seeing as he was the one carrying two arms' worth of unnerved wolf.

"Gee. Sure sounds like we shoulda stayed fuckin' put. Sounds like it's gonna be a crowd of us in the middle of bumfuck and exposed. Sounds like ya shoulda listened t'me."

Pete: "Absolutely not, we're not staying exposed, we're still going to the woods. I need magic to calm Kelly. And by all means, Fletcher, set him down and wash your hands of this if you want to." He pulled up Callum's name and dialed.

"You need to hear you were right? Fine, you were right and I was wrong. You know best and I should've listened to you."

Fletcher: "If only I believed anything ya ever said t'me, it might actually make me feel better."

Pete: "God, Fletcher, what do you want from me?!" Pete whisper yelled. "I am trying to do right by Kelly. Maybe it's not the best way and maybe I'm being a reckless, naive idiot but dammit I have to try! The woods are safe, he needs to be safe!"

Fletcher: "Ya ask me now?!" Plenty willing to have a whisper fight right there and then.

Carefully, he returned to his feet. "Move t'that bit a'trees. I'll scout."

Pete: "Might as well since in your infinite wisdom I can't do anything right! Jesus god, why won't he pick up?" He'd been sent to voicemail. Callum was either dead asleep or away from his phone. He dialed again.

"You can't scout with an armful of wolf, give him here." Pete propped his phone between his ear and shoulder and held out his arms for Kelly.

Fletcher: "S'three in the mornin'. His husband probably turned his phone off." Something he'd been known to do when Callum needed sleep. Something Fletcher wasn't about to reveal in its entirety.

The wolf was handed over. Almost instantly did he disappear among the shadow and branches. Off with his shoe. The one with a reasonable toe to spare.

"Don't say a fuckin' word," he hissed. The distinct and nauseating crack of bones. The tear of flesh far too easy than it should seem. Two abnormally large roaches flew away with impressive speed.

Pete: Pete took the wolf as gently as he could, careful not to jostle him too much. And although there was some protest and half-hearted struggling, Kelly remained relatively calm.

However little magic there was, it was having the intended effect.

"Your toes are really the least of my concern right now, Fletcher." Still no answer from Callum.

Pete sighed.

Fletcher: "Just sit a moment. No use wastin' energy." His eyes, still reflective in certain angles, had taken a faraway glaze.

"Where ya keep the blue roses?"

Pete: Pete didn't bother wondering how Fletcher knew about the roses he'd planted. At this point, he simply assumed Fletcher knew about everything that happened in Edenton.

"Along a secluded part of the riverbank. Off any paths."

Fletcher: A simple nod, eyes forward. Peter would have to wait through the flinches and stuttered breaths, watching a mind in multiple places simultaneously.

Pete: “It’s about a two-mile hike from Callum’s house. There’s a big rock nearby.”

Fletcher: "I know," he muttered.

Pete: “Right. Of course you do.”

Fletcher: "What's that mean?" Not a lot of fight left in his voice.

Pete: “That you know everything.”

Fletcher: "I don't."

Pete: “Probably more than anyone else in town.” His voice was quiet, void of any accusation.

Fletcher: "S'all I do. People think I'm crazy but m'just not... m'just not."

Pete: “People think everyone’s crazy.”

Fletcher: "Yeah, s'easy t'dismiss when you're not me."

Pete: “I don’t mean to dismiss it.”

Fletcher: "I bet ya don't mean a lot of things."

Pete: Pete heaved a long sigh. “They find the roses?”

Fletcher: "Almost there. Not lil Ferraris."

Pete: “Just asking.”

Pete looked down at his armful of Kelly. His eyes were closed but he wasn’t asleep. His breathing was too labored to be restful.

And the light was definitely dimmer now.

Fletcher: The path was clear. Fletcher felt at the tree and forced himself upright.

"Follow behind me, alright? Walk where I walk."

Pete: He nodded and carefully adjusted his grip on Kelly.

"Lead the way."

Fletcher: He needed something to fill the silence. "Did ya ever trust me, Peter?"

Pete: "I trust you now, Fletcher."

Fletcher: "How can ya say that n'we're walkin' this way?"

Pete: "I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you. I'd be home still, with Graham."

Fletcher: "What was trust?"

Pete: "Dropping everything and leaving my nephew with Emmanuel in the middle of the night because you texted me that something was wrong."

Fletcher: Fletcher fell into silence, chewing a wound into his lip as they continued along the path to Peter's sanctuary. The declaration of love to a leech. What a sad, pathetic life he lived.

"Do your thing. I'll... keep watch."

Pete: Pete had never been more relieved to see a blue rose in his life.

The moment he stepped into the serenity garden, more of that soft green light began to emanate from each of the roses, covering the immediate area in a soothing haze.

He lowered Kelly to the ground as delicately as possible, giving extra consideration given to the injured leg.

As for Kelly, he was too exhausted to put up much of any kind of struggle. The Druid magic couldn't quite take away all the pain, but it was lulling him into a half-asleep state.

And now that Kelly was calm and still, the extent of the damage to his body was plain to see. He looked like he'd been put through a meat grinder and left to heal poorly.

Fletcher: Fletcher looked back over his shoulder. "What kinda Garou can't heal proper? The fuck ya think happened t'him?"

Pete: "I couldn't even begin to guess," Pete sighed, settling beside Kelly's head. "He's a vet."

Fletcher: "That don't - I dunno, man. Seen wolves heal from some crazy shit. Ya felt his leg? Some unnatural shit in there."

Pete: "Could a vampire have done damage like this? Made it so he wouldn't be able to heal?"

Fletcher: "Maybe a witch. Maybe somethin' like ya. Y'all supposed t'be the manipulators of health or some shit."

Pete: "Whatever it was, they were either really pissed or really powerful. Or both."

He put his pendant back on and tucked it away again. "Stronger ones of me probably. I'm just a bear."

Fletcher: "Ya ain't ever been 'just' anything."

Pete: "Guess not. My first transformation made that clear."

Fletcher: "I shoulda smelled it on ya."

Pete: “I was a late bloomer, weak bloodline.” He shrugged.

Fletcher: "You've only dipped your toes in."

Pete: “Not much of a puddle to dip them into. What I know about being a bear I learned from my mentor.”

Fletcher: "I mean all of it. Bein' 'round Callum ain't the whole of it."

Pete: "What else am I gonna do? I come from a river guardian tribe. I guard the river and hang out with Callum on full moons."

Fletcher: "More than that, Peter. There's... so much ya don't know." You have no idea how much I worry.

Pete: “I don’t doubt that. But since I have no mentor who is like me, I make up for it by just living my life and transforming quietly and looking after the river. It’s all I can do. It’s what I’ve got to work with.”

Fletcher: "Is that what ya want? T'just... be like that?"

Pete: “I never asked to be this, Fletcher. I was human my entire life until I got sick one random day and transformed a few days later. I just want the life that I built.”

Fletcher: "Wow, ya never asked for it. Amazin'. None of us ask t'be born, Peter. Ya either adapt or ya don't."

Pete: “Well it may not seem so to you, but I think I’ve adapted pretty damn well for not having transformed until I’d been alive for over three decades.”

Fletcher: "Ya ain't been caught yet, 'cept by vampires, n'me, n'maybe a hunter."

Pete: "I was never going hide it from you, or from the vampires. Comes with the territory."

Fletcher: "What territory is that? They'll kill ya as sooner look at ya."

Pete: "The territory of living in Edenton. Even if I prevented my transformation every single full moon for the rest of my life, I can't hide it. My aura's changed. My scent has changed."

Fletcher: "Ya can stay away from em. You're not me. You're not strong enough. If Guildias' boss told him t'kill ya, he would. Ya just..."

Pete: "My life is here, Fletcher. And I've kept that life as quiet and private as I can to stay off the Prince's radar. I'm doing the best I can."

Fletcher: Fletcher could only sigh, at a loss for words that would not result in an argument or further heartbreak. Best to just turn his back and watch their path.

Pete: Fletcher didn't have to say anything more; that sigh spoke volumes. It said his best wasn't good enough, that he wasn't good enough. It said he was doing everything wrong. It said he was naive and idealistic and overemotional and irrational.

So...everything he'd gotten used to hearing about himself.

He laid his hand on Kelly's head and asked god to help them all.

Fletcher: Shouldn't that have been said for himself? Fletcher would have corrected several mistakes in that line of thought had he said them. Just a further widening gap between those unforgettable few weeks they would never share again. The further from those days, the more Fletcher convinced himself they were just a dream.

"How's he doin'?"

Pete: “I think he’s mostly okay.” Pete gave Kelly a good once over. “His breathing seems a little labored. Leg’s twitching.” He leaned in close to listen. “And he’s whining with every exhale. Probably still in a lot of pain.”

Fletcher: "Could steal somethin' from the vet's office." A partial joke with no accompanied laugh.

Pete: Pete snorted. “Vet’s offices keep morphine?”

Fletcher: "Gotta be a dog equivalent."

Pete: "He's on medication. Maybe that'll be enough once he turns back. Unless you want to risk breaking into the vet's office."

Fletcher: "I mean, we're already breakin' rules." But he took a breath. "I might have somethin'."

Pete: "Is whatever it is safe for giant wolves?"

Fletcher: "Are ya bear in all things when you're a bear?"

Pete: "Right down to scratching my back against a tree."

Fletcher: "So ya think it would hurt ya t'take some oxy?"

Pete: “I don’t know, probably. Animal systems aren’t equipped to handle heavy meds.”

Fletcher: It was all relatively new. He knew of other breeds because he had been forced for one reason or another to kill them.

For the good of his species and the security of this town.

"Stayin' here til dawn?"

Pete: Pete nodded. “Yeah. I’ll help him home when he transforms back.”

Fletcher: Fletcher solidified his stance. Arms folded like a hug.

"Alright."

Pete: “It’s okay if you don’t stay, you don’t have to. Kelly’s my responsibility.”

Fletcher: "You're mine."

Pete: “I’m here every full moon, Fletcher,” he said softly. “I’ll be okay, promise. You have a life and I don’t want to keep you from it.”

Pete: “I’m here every full moon, Fletcher,” he said softly. “I’ll be okay, promise. You have a life and I don’t want to keep you from it.”

Fletcher: "...So am I." All Peter had to go on with that faraway tone was Fletcher's back and impossibly tight shoulders.

Pete: Years of knowing about Fletcher's vigilance and somehow reminders of it still surprised him, even if it was brief. Of course Fletcher watched him on full moons. Fletcher watched everything.

Better to quit arguing and focus on Kelly. Maybe he'd text Gaetan and ask about the injuries.

Fletcher: Every day with Peter was a foot-in-mouth situation. Best to let the silence stretch between them. The whispers against his ears were making him miserable anyway.

"Fuck off," he tried to hiss. Whomever was vying for his attention tonight was particularly insistent.

Pete: Pete frowned and turned toward Fletcher's back. Who was he talking to? Was someone coming toward them?

"Is everything all right?"

Fletcher: "S'fi - S'fine." Composure. Not another argument. He was tired.

After a moment, Fletcher turned his shoulder in Peter's direction. He doubted he would remember their night together, the rain, the power outage, the embarrassment caused by the blackout. But, "Ya ever... hear anything in the dark?"

Pete: Fletcher needn't have doubted; Pete remembered every moment of the time they'd had together.

"I didn't used to, but I do now, sometimes."

Fletcher: "Anyone ever tell ya what it is?"

Pete: He nodded. "Yep, my mentor. Said it was the Veil."

Fletcher: "Dead fuckin' people?"

Pete: "Not dead. The in between."

Fletcher: "Whatever that is." He flicked at his ear, as though swiping at a fly.

Pete: "The way it was explained to me, it's the space between life and death. The spirit world where ghosts and ideas and dreams happen. That's where the voices come from."

Fletcher: "It can fuck right off," he muttered.

Pete: Pete pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the battery. There was a decent amount left.

He turned on the flashlight and set it down on a nearby rock.

Fletcher: Fletcher turned at the click of the light. Confusion tangled with caution in those gray eyes as he approached the illuminated sanctuary. He would crouch quietly, akin to the very creature they protected.

Pete: "Light helps right?" Pete asked softly. "I remember, from before."

Fletcher: "Yeah... Helps." For some indescribable reason, a verbal thank you felt like too much to give.

Pete: He nodded and offered Fletcher a smile.

"Did you know Druids can borrow light and play with it?"

Fletcher: "Heard somethin', but just sounded like a fairy tale." He'd seen things from Callum, more his cousin, but nothing he cared to disclose.

Pete: "Callum told me that he and his cousins used to make soccer balls out of light. His cousin Bronwyn still does it with her son."

Fletcher: "I..." know her. He chewed his lip. Stomach churned. "...be glad when this is over." Not what he meant to say, but the bottom line was he felt sick to his goddamn stomach near Peter.

"I just don't get this luna shit."

Pete: Pete looked up at the sky. He could just make out the moon through the canopy. "I really don't either. It's strange being controlled by something you can't touch. Something so far away."

Fletcher: "I mean, gravity," he scoffed. "Sunburn. Insanity. Love n'hate."

Pete: He hummed. "You can feel all those things all the time. You're always aware of them. The moon is just a space rock every single day of its cycle except for one, and on that one day..."

He shook his head. "It's just its position relative to us and the sun. It's math."

Fletcher: Fletcher shook his head, but then shrugged. "I mean, if that blows your mind, I'm a fuckin' cockroach. You're a goddamn bear. Callum is married t'a vampire that can explode into ash. It all means somethin' we can't see. The moon ain't just the moon. Magic n'shit."

Pete: "The second you think nothing can surprise you anymore, something does. And it's not even just magic shit, it's normal shit too. How can you be a were-roach and I be a were-bear when we've only explored five percent of the ocean? None of it makes any sense."

Fletcher: "I mean, that's "we" as ya know it. Someone probably has. Only surprise I've had the past few years have been you."

Pete: “That makes two of us. Well, three. Callum was really damn surprised too.”

Fletcher: "Oh. Yeah. The bear shit. Yeah, that's surprisin'."

Pete: Pete wanted to ask Fletcher what he'd thought Pete had meant but refrained.

He was quiet for a moment. "Do you think someone not-human has explored the ocean?"

Fletcher: "Oh, yeah," he repeated. "Heard some things. Really interestin' things."

Pete: "Any you can share to pass the time?"

Fletcher: Deep breath. "'Bout a guy, his father is... a bloodsucker. N'he lives in the ocean."

Pete: Pete blinked. "He lives in the ocean? How--well I guess he doesn't need to breathe."

Fletcher: "N'he don't gotta look like us."

Pete: "Yeah. Man, that's crazy to think about. Does he ever come out or does he just feed on fish or?"

Fletcher: "Couldn't hear too well. Think he only comes up like once in a - like a century or somethin'."

Pete: "That's....actually kind of terrifying. I'm just imagining some deep-sea creature-looking vampire emerging from the depths."

Fletcher: "Somethin' like that... was here, once. When we were little."

Pete: "He's not still here, is he? Creeping around just out of reach of the sunlight?"

Fletcher: "I don't think it was a bloodsucker. Mama wouldn't tell me."

Pete: “Something bad or just not human?”

Fletcher: "Definitely not human. The way she described it in her book was like... somethin' ya'd see in the deep."

Pete: “So terrifying, probably with transparent skin and creepy eyes and razor sharp teeth.”

Fletcher: "Loose things." He indicated to his throat, arms.

Pete: Pete shuddered. “Scarier things than any of us are at the bottom of the ocean.”

Fletcher: "N'sometimes they get out. Remember... I guess not."

Pete: “Remember what?”

Fletcher: "That week I wasn't in school. I'd spent the night with Tristan Seger, and then bounced."

Pete: “Oh yeah, I do remember that.” He remembered being jealous and upset that Fletcher would go over to Tristan’s house but not his.

“Did something come to town that week that freaked your mom out?”

Fletcher: Another one of those things he wouldn't know. "Somethin' like that. She took me huntin'."

Pete: “Normal hunting or humans killing non-humans hunting?”

Fletcher: "Non-human killin' non-human."

Pete: “Well then. Must’ve been life or death if she took you away for a whole week.”

Fletcher: "Think she just wanted t'teach me." Much more important to her than being a student in some school for humans. With valid reason.

Pete: "Well, you missed Nicholas Maurey wetting himself during reading time."

Fletcher: "Wow. I missed so much." He managed a smile.

Pete: "At that age, that was the hugest thing to ever happen. Still remember the principal stepping over the puddle."

Fletcher: "Did he ever live that down," he mused.

Pete: "Mitch Borden teases him to this day. But Mitch never matured so."

Fletcher: "Did ya... really notice? When I wasn't there."

Pete: Pete nodded. "Yeah. I did."

Fletcher: I hate how much I love you.

"Ya n - mm." He shook his head.

"I'll keep an eye on him, if ya wanna rest your eyes."

Pete: "I'll be fine," he said with a shake of his head. "Used to pulling full moon all nighters, remember?"

Fletcher: "I know what ya can do, n'I'm offerin' anyways."

Pete: "I appreciate it. Truly. I don't think my brain would let me rest."

Fletcher: Another span of silence, then, slowly turning away from the light, though remaining in its protection.

Pete: Pete alternated between staring off into space and staring at Kelly's scars. The cane his bartender had been sporting lately made perfect sense.

This wasn't just a limp, that leg looked atrophied.

"The hell happened to you, Kelly?" he asked the air.

Fletcher: Fletcher stared into space, wondering why it was he constantly threw himself into these situations. Why was it he protected this town, besides self-preservation, had to be more significant than Peter Graham.

"What happens t'all Fera? Battle."

Pete: "Seems like he never fully recovered from that one." He couldn't help but wonder what had caused this kind of damage. What had prevented Kelly from healing the way a Fera should.

He fell silent for another few long moments. Then, "One of us should talk to June."

Fletcher: "I will," said without hesitation. "But I don't think she'll wanna."

Pete: "I think she will. June makes sense of things by talking them out, alone or with someone. And she can't talk this one out alone."

Fletcher: "Nah, she's got a sense of survival."

Pete: “She was still by the door when I arrived. She didn’t run, I had to make her.”

Fletcher: "Some freeze, some frenzy, some just haul ass."

Pete: “Well, looks like she’s a freezer. Now that is. The old her probably would’ve lost her mind.”

Fletcher: "Maybe. Maybe she'll call someone n'this place'll be crawlin' with Pentex."

Pete: "This is the same woman who's kept promises she made in kindergarten. If she talks about it at all, it'll only be to one of us."

Fletcher: "Maybe should be both of us."

Pete: "Maybe. Might help her understand better."

Fletcher: "When are ya gonna tell your family?"

Pete: "I'm not."

Fletcher: "I don't get that."

Pete: "Stella's about to have a baby, my dad's nearly recovered from his accident, he and my mom are still going to therapy. They don't need to know the world the thought they lived in is a lie."

Fletcher: "Luke already knows shit."

Pete: "He hasn't told anyone either."

Fletcher: "Y'all need a damn heart-t'-heart. That shit'll separate y'all eventually."

Pete: "Or it'll tear us apart if I rip the fabric of their reality in two. Enough damage has been done to my family already."

Fletcher: "Not Luke. Ya trust me, remember? It won't break him."

Pete: "He's already broken. Every time I see him he looks more and more wasted away."

Fletcher: "He'll be alright. People are workin' t'fix him."

Pete: "He doesn't need supernatural shit on top of everything he's dealing with."

Fletcher: Deep breath. "Man, that whole separation shit's already good n'happened."

Pete: "You mean his boyfriend being murdered?"

Fletcher: "I mean the two of ya. Believe me. I know what keepin' secrets does t'relationships."

Pete: "If I know he knows, then he already knows that I know."

Fletcher: "For sayin' ya trust me, ya sure don't act like it."

Pete: "What am I gonna say that'll be any help to him, Fletch? Hey Luke, I know you're horribly, horribly depressed but to make your day, let's talk about how our pregnant sister and our parents are surrounded by vampires."

Fletcher: "More like, fuckin, 'Hey, brother, this shit ya know? ya ain't alone. I would really appreciate your company n'I want ya t'know ya can come t'me 'bout your wraith boyfriend.'"

Pete: "His what? His boyfriend is haunting him?"

Fletcher: Fletcher simply stared.

Pete: "So you watch him too every weekend. And his best friend."

Fletcher: "For twenty years. Every fuckin' vampire, hunter, breed. Every fuckin' fairy n'every goddamn witch I can find."

Pete: "How do you walk, Fletcher? Your toes are everywhere."

Fletcher: "Had t'learn. Could be worse."

Pete: "Worse than having to dedicate brain power and appendages to watching Gertrude's Elysium for two decades?"

Fletcher: "N'as reward people call me fuckin' crazy n'an asshole. A know-it-all n'paranoid." Not all was incorrect, but whatever.

Pete: "You're not. You just know too much about too many things." You must be exhausted all the time.

Fletcher: "Pentex is just next door. An ugly beige outer space buildin' in every state. Got one outside Raleigh. Works with the military. Ain't no such thing as knowin' too much."

Pete: "Knowing too much has a nasty habit of getting people killed."

Fletcher: "Why ya think I watch everyone?"

Pete: "To stay alive."

Fletcher: "N'everyone else I give a shit about."

Pete: "Talk to June. She won't tell a single soul anything."

Fletcher: "Talk t'Luke. Ya can lean on him. He needs t'lean on ya."

Pete: "I'll talk to him about it when he gets here on Thursday. This isn't a phone conversation."

Fletcher: "No, it ain't."

Pete: "Tomorrow's June's day off and she plans to stay home all day. Bring a pizza and talk to her."

Fletcher: Fletcher looked over his shoulder, stared at the wolf, stared off into space. Stared at the sky with that familiar lost gaze, and shrugged to himself.

"I shouldn't have left ya."

Pete: Pete was still gently petting Kelly's head, offering whatever comfort he could even if Kelly wasn't aware or couldn't feel it.

"It is what it is, Fletch," he said softly. "I don't hold it against you."

Fletcher: "Of all the times t'fuckin' slack."

Pete: "Don't beat yourself up. You couldn't have known."

Fletcher: "But I knew he was fucked."

Pete: "She didn't get her way. I'm okay. It's not your fault, Fletcher."

Fletcher: It was obvious, even in such dim lighting of the full moon, that words waited on the tip of Fletcher's tongue. Words that he knew would be meaningless.

So he shrugged again.

"Marion wants t'move t'the city."

Pete: Of course she did. Why the hell wouldn't she.

"Gonna do it?" he asked, quieter than he intended.

Fletcher: "Not really my speed, but... I'd blend in with the other crazies."

Pete: He nodded, because what else could he do.

"What about your building?"

Fletcher: "I dunno. Dunno if we will. S'just somethin' she's in my ear about."

Pete: Another nod. "Have you ever thought about it? Living in a city?"

Fletcher: "Ya know I did. Before. N'ya didn't want me to."

Pete: "No, I didn't. Wanted you to be able to be where your life and mom and home are." Where I was.

Fletcher: "Yeah..." What more could he say? "Ya know why I wanted t'leave."

Pete: "Yeah. And I was the one who ended up leaving."

Fletcher: Fletcher shrugged. Stared at the exhausted wolf.

"Ya were never with me t'begin with. What I miss?"

Pete: "Stole a few weeks before it all went to hell. The only thing I regret is hurting you."

Fletcher: "Stole," he scoffed. Nails dug into the back of his hand. His humorless laugh was broken by a "Fuck you."

Pete: "I stole them," he said to the ground. "You didn't. You did nothing to deserve what I put you through. I hurt you, and I'll be sorry for it all my life."

Fletcher: "How'd ya use me?" If this was going to be the subject, let's have it.

Pete: "You've been beating yourself up for leaving me with Victoria but I'm the one who went out that window. You deserve so much better than me. I wasn't brave enough when we were younger and I wasn't brave enough then. You deserve someone who's brave enough. You've been watching this town for two full decades, you've gotten yourself into hot water more than once to protect it and protect the people you care about. You're in hot water now with me and Kelly and you're still here when you can tell me to go fuck myself and deal with this on my own."

Fletcher: "Peter..." He had wanted an apology, but hearing any semblance of regret now felt empty. A goodbye. Just that black void in his gut he couldn't fill and never had.

"Ya could take a knife t'me right now n'I'd let ya. Told ya when ya jumped in the water ya... only did it 'cause he wasn't here. I knew." Hands rose and fell. "Ya can't be blamed."

Pete: "Yeah, I can. I can because I made choices and those choices hurt you. I deserved every bit of what happened in the woods that night. And if you had come along and decided to get a few hits in, I would've deserved that, too. I wouldn't have stopped you then and I wouldn't now. You've had to put up with so much of my bullshit and I am so goddamn sorry, Fletcher. You're not the asshole, you never were. It's always been me. And after all you've had to deal with, the only thing I want is for you to be happy. Genuinely and truly happy. Because jesus god, you've earned it."

Fletcher: A visceral heat burned its way from that void to his fingertips. A blissfully empty mind fueled on instinct. Slowly Fletcher reached for him, intent on curling rough fingers around Peter's throat.

Pete: Pete was too focused on Kelly and too caught up in his thoughts to react in time to stop Fletcher.

He braced for a hit; he expected one. He'd all but given Fletcher permission.

Fletcher: Not a strike of brute force. Only a squeeze of powerful fingers against important arteries. The command of his nearness with a simple flex of his arm. He was warm. He was Peter, as always. Being a bear didn't change much.

"Don't ever say that again. Don't ever let anyone lay a hand on ya... like that. Not ever."

Pete: There was a small, quiet part deep in Pete's mind that completely believed he deserved what Victoria had intended to do to him, and this was the first time it had ever been voiced aloud. At the very least, he deserved MJ's anger. He deserved Fletcher's, too.

And everything in his face reflected that sentiment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Fletcher: "What d'ya have t'be sorry for?" he whispered. "I got t'taste what it was like. Your mouth. Your skin. Your you. I got that. S'mine. It hurts, but everything does."

Pete: "I'm sorry that it hurts. I'm sorry that that's all I ever do to you. I want to make it better but I don't know how."

Fletcher: "Ya can't. Ya can't... be with me." Though it destroyed his spirit to finally say it. "I'll say anything hateful so it don't kill me, 'cause I know ya can't. M'not him."

Pete: Everything Pete wanted to say would only hurt them more. He wished Fletcher had come over to his house for a sleepover instead of Tristan's. He wished Fletcher had been the one to give him his first kiss under the bleachers. He wished he'd gone right up to Fletcher and asked him to prom.

So many things. None of which could be changed, all of which were painful enough to bring tears to his eyes.

"I've said so many awful shitty things to you and I didn't mean a single one. That's what I did so it wouldn't kill me. I need you to know that, even if it's too little too late."

Fletcher: "Well, s'what we do. Ain't it? What I said t'ya months ago. What I said for twenty years. What m'sayin' right now." And despite everything he'd just said, he pulled Peter that much closer. Dangerously close. Less than a mistake would crush their mouths.

Pete: Pete had made that mistake once and hurt the man he'd loved for two thirds of his life. To do so again would put him beyond all redemption.

"I know it can't be with me, but I want you to be so happy. That I did mean. You deserve it so much."

Fletcher: "It coulda been, though. N'it always will be you, Peter."

Pete: He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry for that, too. If there's another me and another you in another universe, I hope he's more worthy of you than I am."

Fletcher: "What's that bloodsucker got that I ain't got?"

Pete: “I wish I knew. I wish I understood why.”

Fletcher: "When ya figure it out," he released his throat, "lemme know, so I can be a better man."

Pete: Pete gave Fletcher a sad smile. “You’re a good man, Fletcher. A far better man than I could ever hope to be. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”

Fletcher: "Shut up with that shit."

Pete: “I mean it. Ask June.”

Fletcher: "Ya are good."

Pete: “I’ll take your word for it.”

Fletcher: "Trust me, right?"

Pete: Another small, sad smile. “Yeah, I do.”

Fletcher: "You're the best thing I've ever met."

Pete: It took every ounce of strength he possessed to take even breaths and not break down sobbing.

He would absolutely never deserve Fletcher Goodman.

“I hope I can spend the rest of my life proving you even half right.”

Fletcher: "Ya can start by listenin' t'me next time some shit goes down. Deal?"

Pete: Pete nodded. “Deal.”

Fletcher: Fingers softly brushed against Peter's chin, and fell into his lap.

"Should keep hatin' ya in public. Ya know, reputation."

Pete: “No one would blame you. People around here care a lot about reputation.”

Fletcher: "A man is his reputation. S'why I got nothin' t'lose."

Pete: “Well, you kinda do. Emmanuel Gaia’s daughter thinks you’re secretly a pirate. So as long as you don’t disprove that you should be good.”

Fletcher: "How the hell sh - the pawn shop."

Pete: A true smile and a nod. “Gold coins are all the proof she needed.”

Fletcher: "Mm. Gold coins..."

Pete: “Everyone knows only pirates have those. Her words.”

Fletcher: "They mean more t'me now, ya know."

Pete: He nodded. “Yep. Never gonna look at one the same way.”

Fletcher: "If I gave ya anything," he smiled, wrinkles plaguing his face.

Pete: “You sure did. Gold coins, donuts. All in a new light.”

Fletcher: A growl escaped the Samsa before he could catch it. He turned back to Kelly to save face. He couldn't talk about those memories without warming his body.

Kelly: The growl stirred Kelly from his half-asleep state. Not enough to put him on high alert, just enough for him to lift his head for a moment before unceremoniously plopping it on Pete’s lap.

Fletcher: Fletcher leaned closer with his stirring. A primal reminder of his current rank amongst the three of them. A mockery of breeds, but the alpha of this mishmash nonetheless.

Thin amber antennae sprouted from his scalp. Began to feel with gentle taps at Kelly's body.

Kelly: Just beneath the calm, it would be very obvious that Kelly’s body was in distress.

His heartbeat and breathing had slowed but remained erratic. His muscles were tense. Touching the area near his leg, however softly, would elicit a whine and a whimper.

Fletcher: "Hush." His antennae were the equivalent of tiny feathers. He felt and studied and judged the mangled body.

"We're gonna carry him t'the hospital at sunrise. Say ya found him on the floor at work, passed out."

Pete: “Okay,” he said with a nod. “It’s probably for the best, he’s in no shape to just go home, even before tonight. He’s been getting worse and worse all month.”

Fletcher: "Ya didn't say anything?"

Pete: “I tried. He either ignored me or bit my head off just enough to make me back off but not enough to get himself fired. I wouldn’t have fired him but he doesn’t know that.”

Fletcher: "Well," he turned back to him, "welcome t'the family. I'm in charge."

The antennae began to recede.

Pete: “I’m his emergency contact, you know. When I hired him I asked him if he was sure he didn’t wanna make it a relative or a friend and he just stared at me.”

Fletcher: Kelly's memory was still in question. Whether he would remember the abomination preventing his escape. Either way, he was a liability.

"Maybe they did it. Not our problem. He ain't goin' anywhere."

Pete: “Nowhere but the hospital.” He began petting Kelly’s head again. “Makes me sad that if something happens to him, his boss is the only person that’ll know. One of his bosses.”

Fletcher: "Not much Charlie could do."

Pete: “Probably why he made it me, not to toot my own horn. Could’ve chosen Dwight I guess.”

Fletcher: "Ya smell like animal."

Pete: Pete nodded. “Giving me the edge over Dwight.”

Fletcher: Fletcher turned to rest his head on the opposite of Peter's lap.

Pete: That was just fine by Pete. A small moment of peace for them all was exactly what was needed.

Fletcher: "M'watchin' everything. Ya really can rest your eyes, Peter."

Pete: It felt like his eyes got itchy and grainy the moment Fletcher told him to rest them.

"Feel like we should build a fire."

Fletcher: "Build a fire?"

Pete: "For light and heat."

Fletcher: "He'll be fine. Ya can have my jacket."

Pete: "I'm okay. He just seems so frail." It was strange calling a giant friggin' wolf frail, but oh well.

Fletcher: A noncommittal noise was all he would receive. He couldn't say how he felt, except that this man had been reckless.

Pete: Pete wouldn't have disagreed. How had Kelly ended up transforming in the alley? Surely he must've know what day it was. Had he forgotten somehow? Had he used something to prevent his turning that had failed on him?

There was no way of knowing. Not right now at least.

Fletcher: Fletcher remained vigilant, despite his position. This was Peter's life, which meant more to him than the wolf sharing his lap. No sense in checking his watch when Kelly was their alarm. He would only stir when the first rays of morning poured over dark fur.

Pete/Kelly: Much as he wanted to keep watch over Kelly, Pete was just too tired. It hadn't been a particularly taxing day but the night was something else altogether. He was emotionally and spiritually exhausted.

At some point he began to doze where he sat, head occasionally lolling to the side in the brief moments where sleep won, only for him to jolt awake again.

Kelly didn't fare much better. He never fully fell asleep; just continued to drift in his the magically-induced relaxed state.

The moment the moon lost her hold on him, however, he too would startle awake as the first loud, excruciating cracks signaled his return to his human form.

Fletcher: The first crack forced Fletcher into a crouched position, wide awake and diligently on guard, waiting for whatever reaction, no matter the severity, to put this man in his place should he decide to lash out on his only protector.

Pete/Kelly: Pete wasn't quite so awake or quite so on guard, but he did try to comfort Kelly as much as he could as the cries of pain started up again.

The magic of the flowers simply wasn't enough. It was meant to soothe and comfort; only an actual Druid could've offered Kelly any significant relief but Pete wasn't entirely certain a Druid could even help right now.

Kelly rolled off of Pete's lap in an attempt to curl in on himself as his bones reformed. Fur receded, his form elongated, and slowly the howls of pain became more and more human. They became ragged, tortured sobs. Every movement hurt and with good reason.

Kelly had transformed back fully clothed, but what skin was visible was covered in horrible, nasty bruises.

Fletcher: He recognized that pain as though he could remember his deaths. Stolen memory, but unadulterated resonation.

Slowly, he approached his side. Movement quite feral. Now, they were in the recovery phase. It was time to assess.

"Kelly. Look at me."

Pete/Kelly: Bleary eyes attempted to meet Fletcher's, only vaguely aware of his surroundings. He could smell that he was in the woods and he could hear the rush of water from the river but beyond that Kelly was completely disoriented.

And then there was the matter of the bruises, which had concern plastered all over Pete's exhausted face.

They were everywhere. Shouldn't they only be in places where Fletcher had hit him or where Kelly had made contact with something? His fingers were bruised for god's sake.

"Fletcher, something's not right. Have you ever seen someone change back like this?"

Fletcher: "I see em," he sighed. "Go get his keys n'bring his truck this way. I'll ride with him in the back." Gently, Fletcher shimmied his arms underneath Kelly's weight. He expected more whining, given his current state. Maybe even a snap of that human jaw his direction.

"Go on now, Peter."

Pete/Kelly: Gentle wasn’t gently enough. Kelly had yet to form any kind of coherent word but the moment he was jostled Fletcher would be treated to more ragged cries. Even trying to struggle sent waves of sharp pain absolutely everywhere.

Meanwhile, Pete did as Fletcher asked and pulled some adrenaline out of somewhere so he could run back to the pub as quickly as his legs could take him.

Fletcher: "I hear ya," was his version of soothing. Kelly was brought to his chest and adjusted. "Gonna lift in three, two..." and up. Now was not the time to chide. He'd be talking to himself, he assumed. The man was too far gone in his agony. He couldn't be blamed for deaf ears.

Kelly: Kelly didn't have the presence of mind to even swear. He just screamed.

At least, in his mind he was screaming. In reality it was just more of the same; cries and grunts and whimpers.

He didn't really hear what the man was saying but he was aware of him. There was even a glimmer of recognition somewhere in his mind. Or was there? ....Yes. Maybe....yes? He knew who this was....right...? Right? Ri.....

Kelly's head fell back. He'd lost consciousness.

Fletcher: Fletcher walked to the nearest bit of road, where he assumed Peter would show. Just shy of the clearing, waiting by a tree for the first sign of his partner in rescue.

And with his arrival, he would motion with his elbow to the door. Kelly was traded off long enough to settle in. Still the crack of dawn, they had time to make this without being noticed.

Pete: Those gladiator workouts were finally coming in handy for more than just staying in shape.

Pete had gone back to the pub at a full run, letting that second wind do its job and propel him forward. It also helped that he didn't have a giant ass wolf to carry or any prying eyes to hide from. It was too early for anyone to be awake anyway.

He got back in record time, making quick work of retrieving Kelly's keys and cane and anything else he'd brought with him. The place was still only half shut down since Kelly and June hadn't finished closing up but that was a problem for his future self.

Back he went towards the woods, taking advantage of the early hour and driving at breakneck speed. It felt like he was racing the goddamn the sun but really he was racing every person in Edenton.

Thankfully he spotted Fletcher quickly.

"God, he feels so much heavier now," he said as he took Kelly. "I don't think we're going to be able to get away with just saying we found him."

Fletcher: "June can corroborate seein' him last n'lookin' like dog shit. S'either we take him, 'cause we are not the hands t'fix him, or you're knockin' on a druid's door at five in the mornin'. S'your call, Peter."

Pete/Kelly: Pete shook his head. "I'd ask Cal but I think this is way outside his wheelhouse. I guess if they ask we can--"

Kelly came to with a start, cutting Pete off and violently coughing up what was unmistakably blood.

Fuck.

"Fuck, okay, we gotta go. Got him?"

Fletcher: Kelly was held loosely, enough for him to move about and cough as he needed to.

"I got him. Drive." He took a breath. "Callum might be low grade, but his cousin ain't."

Pete: "It's four in New Orleans," he called as he got back in the driver's seat, not even thinking to question Fletcher's suggestion. "She can take a crack at him later, he needs medical attention but quick."

Once more taking advantage of the empty road, Pete floored it to the emergency room.

Fletcher: "That suddenly matters?" Seemed Peter was still... young. That was to be expected. Callum wasn't about to tell him everything, best friend or not.

"Easy does it, man. Don't breathe deep."

Pete/Kelly: It probably didn't in a situation like this, but Bronwyn had a kid and Pete was loath to force her to scramble like he had with Graham earlier.

Besides, there was no guarantee she'd be able to help Kelly. At least not to the extent the hospital could.

Kelly couldn't have breathed deeply if he'd wanted to, and being jostled around by his own crappy truck and crappy suspension system didn't help. If it wasn't the coughing, it was the shocks of pain after every single movement as they drove. It wasn't long before he was unconscious again.

Fletcher: Fletcher knew nothing of meditation that an ex and a best friend hadn't attempted. Considerable willpower was spent in remaining in that back bed as the truck pulled left down the long driveway to the hospital.

He could do it, he thought. Disintegrate into an intrusion of American cockroaches, scatter little by little until one remained, inconspicuous.

One steady breath. Another. Another. The simple act of remaining ached from the inside out.

Pete: Pete hoped to god that the fact that it was five in the morning meant that the emergency room would be empty as the roads. Empty and loaded with nurses.

He parked at the curb, cutting the engine and leaping out in one fluid motion.

"Okay okay, we're here." He hopped into the back. "We need--are you okay? Are you having a panic attack?"

Fletcher: Fletcher managed his best glare. The torch of mangled Garou was passed to Peter's arms.

"What are ya gonna say?"

Pete: Even though Kelly was unconscious, Pete still handled him as carefully as possible. "I'm gonna say I found him in the alley outside the pub. He looks like someone beat the hell out of him and I'm not gonna offer any theories to the contrary. Come on, let's take him inside."

He studied Fletcher for a moment. "Or would you rather wait with him while I get a nurse?"

Fletcher: His skin was burning. Palms slick with sweat. Not a smell Peter needed up his nose.

"Brett's gonna show up 'cause of this. Ya only called me t'help ya. That's it. Got it? Go get a nurse."

Pete: Pete nodded. He wouldn't push or insist or pry. If Fletcher was uncomfortable or simply didn't want to be anywhere near this, Pete wouldn't make him.

"Okay. Wait here. Once they take him inside you can slip away." He gently set Kelly down and hopped off the truck bed, running inside and shouting for help.

Fletcher: He couldn't leave. For Peter's sake. He remained by Kelly's side and wished he was religious enough to pray to anything capable of sparing him from exposure.

Pete/Peabody/Bridget: The first person Pete saw when he burst into the ER was Bridget, Peabody's girlfriend, and standing beside her was the man himself. It was Peabody who spoke first.

"What is it, what's wrong?" he asked, immediately going from relaxed to cop mode.

"It's Kelly Rose. I've got him out in the truck. He's hurt bad, he's all bruised and coughing up blood, I think he was attacked."

Pete didn't get a chance to finish speaking before Bridget was calling for whichever one of her colleagues was closest to get the doctor and a gurney.

Fletcher: Fletcher waited with Kelly's head in his lap, keeping his airways absolutely clear. He didn't know much about anything medical. Never a need for it. His assistance was pretty much what he'd seen from film.

The sight of Deputy Peabody straightened his spine.

"He passed out on the way here," he muttered.

Peabody/Bridget: Fletcher wouldn’t have to wait long. Bridget and the other staff came through the automatic doors like bats out of hell just moments after Pete had gone in. Peabody came as well, giving Fletcher a nod of acknowledgement and greeting as he opened the tailgate so the nurses could get to Kelly.

They immediately began checking vitals and attaching equipment, alternately telling each other readings and giving instructions to each other for getting Kelly out of the truck and onto the gurney.

While they worked Peabody turned to Fletcher. “The hell happened? Pete said he was attacked?”

Fletcher: Fletcher watched with his chin down, eyes to himself. This wasn't his rodeo. If he could be nothing more than an inanimate object...

To all but Peabody. He was his whole world for the next five minutes.

"Dunno. Peter banged on my door. He's a big motherfucker. Couldn't get him up on his own."

Pete/Peabody: Peabody looked back to Kelly's prone form and couldn't help grimacing at the sight of all the bruises. "Yeah, he is. Too big for one person to do that to him. Probably a group."

There was blood on Kelly's face and facial hair and down his front and far as Peabody could tell, that was all the blood there was. Surprising considering the state the poor bastard was in.

He didn't have time to ask more questions before he was asked for help in getting Kelly onto the gurney, along with Pete who had finally come out of the ER.

Fletcher: Fletcher exchanged a look with Peter when he could. As though the sight was too much to bear, he turned his back to the scene and wiped at his mouth with both hands. Not alarming or alien or stomach churning. The less his face was seen, the less he would be remembered.

Pete/Peabody: Pete offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Fletcher's discomfort was practically rolling off of him; it didn't take a lot to see how much he wanted to get out of there.

They managed to get Kelly off the truck without tossing him around too much, but that little bit of movement was enough to make him come around in a flurry of coughs and cries.

The nurses were trying to offer both care and comfort as they finally wheeled him inside, leaving Pete, Peabody, and Fletcher outside.

Peabody was the first to talk. "My shift's about to end but we need to get a report going on this. Can you stick around, Pete? Since you found him?"

Pete nodded. "Yeah, no problem. Fletch, you wanna drive Kelly's truck to his house?" And get out of Dodge?

Fletcher: Eyes darted between the two men. I see what you're doing.

"D'ya need his truck, Peabody? Otherwise I'll... do that."

Pete/Peabody: "Was he in the truck when you found him?"

Pete shook his head. "No, he was by the dumpster. Truck was parked in the lot, just easier to bring him here in it."

The deputy nodded. "All right, should be fine then. Go ahead and take it."

Fletcher: "Not gonna CSI: Vegas his truck or somethin'?"

Peabody: "Even if we had the resources for that, we'll have better luck with Kelly himself. Parker will probably look around the alley though."

Fletcher: "Right." He held his hand out to Peter. "Keys, then." Whatever it was Peabody was about to do, whatever this investigation would lead to, he wanted no part of it. Putting aside the fact that Kelly's wallet was still intact. An attack without greed as the motivation made everything stickier. He was still trying to wrap his head around a Fera that could keep his clothes on during the transformation. That was more his artificial species. So those wheels were busy turning.

Pete: Pete handed Fletcher Kelly's keys and with them, the opportunity to escape Peabody's probing questions. And Brett's too, when he finally arrived.

"I guess you can put the keys in his mailbox when you get there. Or under the mat or something. I can go get them later and keep them for him until he goes back home."

Fletcher: "Could just leave it in the parking lot, right? I can walk home."

Pete: He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, that should be fine. Gives Parker a chance to take a look at it if he wants to."

Fletcher: So, reluctantly, the keys were handed back. "Ya know...where t'find me."

Pete: "Yep. Sure you wanna walk?" It's been a long night.

Fletcher: "Yep. Yep, I'll see y'all."

The best goodbye he was going to give, waving a behind as he headed back to the road.