#yeah she made his little twink cry but twinks are like that

[reigen-small-naturals]

i think vadfah did nothing wrong actually because she is pretty (also i am a feminist)

[sleepisoverrated]

Hi, hello, not dead just buried in schoolwork now that I'm in my final year (college applications, moving to a new house, driving lessons, 2 or 5 exams every week and can't forget that I got sick)..... So yeah not dead, but certainly looking like it.

Anyway Arcane season 2, I think ep 6 finally gave me depression and the show in general made me cry more than I did at my grandmas funeral. So I decided to share some of my head cannons that I had before season 2.

Silco braids Jinx's hair in styles his mother taught him, while singing, telling lessons, stories, poems, folklore, plans, day events or just complaints(post season two comment: can't believe I got so close with the hair thing, the braids were probably taught to him by Felicia, Jinx mother, but still I think Silcos mother taught him how to do hair)

‌Zaunish or old Zaun is russian

Old Zaun was a secret code that everyone in the mines knew so they could talk in peace, without a threat of getting beat up by supervisors, it eventually spread to their families so that they can protect themselves from enforcers, eventually everyone knew

‌Noxian is german

‌Piltovian is british english (english is a universal language, but some places made it their own eg. american, australian, british(the cockney accent is how Zaunites speak it))

‌Viktors name in old Zaun is Vitya

‌ Victor scares everyone when actually angry or in a sleep deprived mania

‌ Victor was a slut during his academy years, because everyone wanted some of that exotic Undercity twinks ass, so him saying "wait this isn't my bedroom" wouldn't have surprised anyone and could have worked as an excuse if Jayce hadn't opened his mouth

‌ Sevika had a sister that died in the bridge rebellion

‌Sevika and Silco are like siblings (Silco is most definitely the little spoiled brat sibling that can fuck you over if he convinces mom, in this case he is the little spoiled brat that can stab you and also has an army at his disposal)

‌ Sevika dislikes Jinx/Powder and Violet, because they (before the explosion) reminded her of herself with her big sister, it makes her uncomfortable how Jinx turned out and Vi "died"

‌Ekko still has a crush on Jinx/Powder (post season two comment: btw I meant he had a crush on her when she was Powder that stayed until canon s1, not the alternative universe Powder) even tough she changed (The bridge scene makes me cry) (post season two comment: we won but at what cost)

‌Ekko has hallucinations when he's inventing/building of Jinx that he talks to and interacts with( they build together and bounce ideas of eachother) (post season two comment: fucking hell how did I manage to hurt myself more)

Hope you like them! Can't promise any consistent posting, but I'll try at least shorter posts!

[xdacted]

You and Me (always forever)

Paring: Reader X Max Verstappen

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of child abuse

Word Count: 2,060

Status: Complete

____________________

Max was so dead. 

He was going to be in so much trouble if his father caught him. But that threat has never stopped him before, it certainly won’t start tonight. 

He knew better than this, better than sneaking out before a race, but he had seen her. She was on the makeshift paddock earlier, standing with her helmet tucked right beneath her arm. The practice for that day had gone well, he’d lost out to p1 by merely hundredths of a second, but of course, that was never good enough. 

Jos had torn into him. Berating him in their garage, swearing and pushing at his shoulders. Max didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to scream, he just wanted to hide. He hated when his dad screamed at him, especially when he did it infront of everyone. When he did it infront of her. 

She found him after his father stormed off, Jos demanding that he clean up the mess on his own. There was a worried look in her eye, face red with anger. It was cute and it made Max burst into laughter. 

“He shouldn’t speak to you like that,” She said, crossing her arms in front of her and glaring at the direction in which his father left, “It’s wrong.”

“He’s my dad,” Max tried explaining to her that it was just the way things were. His dad didn’t hate him, Jos was trying to make him better, stronger. He was the son of a Formula one driver, Max couldn’t embarrass him. 

“Exactly,” She stepped closer to him, throwing her hands in the air, “You’re his son!”

With a roll of his eyes, Max turned away to begin disassembling his kart. If he didn’t get started now, he’d be here until sundown. She was silent for a long while, standing at the opening of their garage, just watching him collect the tools and roll the tires away, until she let out a loud groan. 

“You don’t have to help,” Max reminded her, but it never made a difference. 

She began to wipe down the tool box, smoothing out the paint of his kart. He’d nearly lost himself on turn five and it caused a rock to crack at the side of his kart, the thought made his face burn. He hated making mistakes, he hated it when he wasn’t able to perform the way he wanted - the way he should. 

His father demanded perfection, but it was more than that. Max knew he could achieve it. He knew that he was special and he hated when he let childish mistakes hold him back from that. He was only 9, but that didn’t mean a thing. He needed to be ready. He needed - 

“Will you meet me under the track?”

He nearly dropped the rags in his hands, “Tonight?”

“No!” She mocked, “Tomorrow. Yes, tonight.”

They’d been meeting there since they were six. It was a little ditch right underneath a part of the track. The grass was smooth and at this time, it was filled with dandelions. It was their place, their space away from everyone else. It was just for them. 

“Yeah,” He muttered, “Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” She turned to him, tossing him a wrench, “See you then.”

It’s how he was there now, standing with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking around. He always waited for his father to fall asleep before slipping out of the motorhome, Jos never woke up - far too a heavy sleeper - but it still made his stomach curl with anxiety. 

Max shivered in the night wind, the calm roll of the air blowing past him. The blades of grass danced in the moonlight, with the dandelions nearly glowing as bright as the stars. It was beautiful here. Just him and the sky. 

Dark and mysterious, an infantate void of emptiness. Sometimes he wondered what it was like to be a star, be so high above that no one could ever hurt you. Safe from screaming and shoving, twinking so brightly that everyone looked at you. Everyone loved you. Being so warm, right beside the moon and the sun. 

It must be a beautiful life. 

“Max!” Her voice pulls him back to himself. He blinks a few times, eyes suddenly stinging. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been like that, staring into the distance, but she marches up to him. 

“You’re shivering!”

Before he can utter another word, she’s throwing a blanket around him, it’s a wool one - one that her mother made her for Christmas. She’s quick to set her backpack down, pulling the fabric around his shoulders, fussing around his collar. 

“I always tell you to bring a blanket and you never do!”

“Because you always do…”

His words don’t leave him with their normal snark, emotions still thick in his throat. For a moment, she pauses. Her bright eyes meeting him, Max can’t take it. They pierce right through him, she can see all of him. There’s nothing he can hide from her. 

He hates it. 

When he tears his gaze away, she catches him. Her warm hands are at either of his cheeks, directing him right back to her. It’s odd. Even with the intensity of her eyes, Max never feels judged. There’s nothing that he fears she might see, he just hates that he can’t hide how weak he is. He hates that all his insecurity is right for her to see. 

But Max is sure she’s seen it more than once, plenty of times, and yet, here she is. She hasn’t run. 

“Of course, I do,” She huffs after a long while, breaking their staring contest first, “You always forget.”

He can see, even in the darkness, that her cheeks are red, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. It makes his stomach flip. She settles beside him, pulling her pack closer to her. She digs within it for a moment, pulling out a pack of gummy worms - their favorite. 

It was definitely contraband form her older brother, neither of them were allowed candy on race weekends. She unwrapped it like it’s a delicate piece of china, the wrapper crushing under her administration. Max has lost count of the amount of gummies they’ve shared here, the number far above what he can remember. 

She scoots closer to him, and he wordlessly opens up the blanket for her. There’s another, sitting right in her bag, but she never uses it. She fixes the blanket on their shoulders, moving closer until they’re huddled into a pile of limbs. 

Max thinks that they might be getting too old for this. He can feel their knees knocking together, over the summer he’d grown taller, and now the fabric was hanging lopsided on his shoulder. The thought frightens him. 

To think that one day they’re going to be too old to do this, sit here with the stars at their special place. 

He fears that one day it won’t be special anymore, that one day it’ll just be a patch of grass. Max hadn’t ever really given much thought as to what his life would look like after that. Even when he imagines himself as a Formula One World Champion, he thinks of celebrating here, dancing among the dandelions with her. 

Would it all come crashing down?

Would she still be there?

Would it -?

She smacks him in the face with a worm, pushing the bag into his hands, “Where are you?”

“OW!” He grumbles, snatching it from her, “I’m right here!”

“You drifted away again,” She said, moving closer to him. 

Max turned away, digging his fingers into the bag. He grabbed at the gummies, popping them into his mouth. It was his favorite flavor, he hadn’t been allowed to have candy in such a long time. 

She said he drifted away a lot. Saying that she could always tell when he wandered into the depths of his mind, it made Max squirm. They had known each other so long and had grown together - their roots forever intertwined. He often forgot that just as easily as she could look into his mind, he could see hers. 

When he looked over at her again, she was picking at the skin of her fingers, her cheek caught between her teeth. There she was, getting angry in his place. She felt his emotions for him, especially when it came to his father. 

For Max, his feelings were far too heavy to bear. He could never truly understand just how much pain he was in, never allowing himself to dwell in it. That was a weakness. But for her, she reveled in the emotions he couldn’t bring himself to feel. 

Max reached over, interlacing their fingers. He could feel the searing glare she sent his way, but she left her hand in his. He traced stars into her skin. 

“I don’t like how he treats you,” She pushes herself closer to him, cheek pressed against his shoulder, “ ‘s not right.”

Max rolls his eyes. He doesn’t bother trying to explain it this time, she never listens. It was just the way things were. It was life. 

She doesn’t let the silence linger for too long, sighing loudly.

“I would never yell at you…” She mumbles. 

“You yelled at me when you got here.”

She lifts her head from his shoulder, craning her neck to look at him, “You didn’t have a blanket! I always tell you to bring a blanket! You could freeze to death!”

Though her voice is loud, echoing in the night air, it doesn’t scare him. It doesn’t feel like she’s yelling at him. Max can’t help it, he bursts into laughter. Tears spring to his eyes as he doubles over, clutching his stomach. 

She snatches her hand back, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout, “It’s not funny…”

It was hilarious. 

Max’s stomach curls, he can hardly breathe. He catches himself on his knees, trying to study his heart. There’s a part of his brain that knows he’s being too loud, that if his father were to hear him - he’d be dead. But he can’t help it. 

He laughs.

Eventually, she begins to laugh too. 

Small chuckles that morph into a howling laughter, the smile on her face bright. Max thinks he’s staring into the sun. It feels like they never stop, rolling around on the grass, the blanket falling from their shoulders. 

Truly, Max isn’t even sure why they’re laughing anymore, but he never wants to stop. 

Their cackles die into silence, only the sound of their gasping breaths left as evidence of their fit. They’ve fallen onto their backs, staring up at the sky. 

With the race track lights off, there’s nothing to see but the slivers of stars. The dandelions curl around their bodies, tickling the backs of their necks. 

If growing up means never having this again, Max decides that he never wants to. 

“Maybe one day I’ll save you.”

Max snickers, sparing her a look, “You can’t save me!”

“Why not?!”

“You’re a girl!” He feels the laughter building back in his stomach. 

With an over dramatic gasp, she shoves him. He moves further onto the grass, barking laughter into the blades. He can’t believe it. His stomach still sore from the fit only moments ago. 

“I’m serious.”

Max knows she is. When it comes to him she always is. He takes a peek at her. The curve of her nose and lips outlined by the moon, she’s so beautiful. Max thought that he might love her. Just staring at her, no one to breathe a word about this but the stars. And he was more than sure that they would keep his secret. 

He loves her, but loving things makes it complicated. 

He wasn’t ready for that. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” He whispers, clutching her hand in his, “Not if we’re together.”

She doesn’t say anything, but Max can feel her heart beating. Her pulse is steady and strong. She’s a constant. Max knows that if he can just be in her orbit - just like a moon orbiting a planet - he’ll be fine. If he could just be near her, he would never need an understanding father. He’d have her. 

That’s all he would need. 

She squeezes his hand, “Just you and me.”

“Always forever.”

____________________

A/N:This work has been cross posed on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to requests fics about any of the drivers <3

[violet-moonstone]

highlights from "searching for oswald...and chicken"

wow I loved this episode...I feel like I say that every time but I REALLY REALLY enjoyed this one

first of all its a Dagur episode, which automatically makes it great...most of the screenshots I took are of him. Honestly all of his dialogue is very quotable, especially since so many of the jokes they give him are thinly veiled adult humour

also the B plot with chicken was certainly something (and makes me think the writers were thinking about the end of the hidden world while writing it?)

ok so the beginning of the episode was already tugging at my heartstrings. I love seeing Dagur and Heather's sibling relationship, whether hey're arguing or getting along.

Well that's deeply upsetting! and the fact that he said "most of his life" makes me wonder how much of the confidence Dagur displayed as a teenager was a cover for whatever he was dealing with internally.

The part where Dagur hugs Heather and she looks happy but almost surprised was very bittersweet. It seems like she's still getting used to having a family, and affection catches her off guard.

Excuse me while I go cry

Call me deranged but I think Dagur slamming Snotlout against a cage was hot

As always, Hiccup is adorable. Literally looks like a cat

This is funny but also very upsetting! Snotlout and Dagur really make a habit of using humourous line delivery to cope with being deeply unwell:

*clears throat* uh yeah Dagur, I'm sure you do love a good "fruit bath," from time to time if you know what I mean...

Come on, the writers, animators and voice actor HAVE to have known that line came across as suggestive. Like the way he sounds? His facial expression? They may not have intended it to specifically imply he was talking about getting in a sauna with some twinks, but it certainly sounded like something sensual was going on.

Also I didn't get a shot of this but when Dagur starts listing adjectives to describe Heather's reckless behaviour, Hiccup says "Sentinel" while looking at Oswald's journal. Dagur says something like "that's not quite the word I'd use," which makes me think Dagur was going to call her a not so PG word...

Snotlout staring directly at the camera while narrating Tuffnut's emotional breakdown in the style of a pun-loving mystery novelist:

What an asshole (I love him). there's something really funny about Tuff leaning against the tree with a hand on his hip. Poor guy. Astrid and Stormfly were clearly less amused than I was.

Ok let's talk about Hiccup motivating Dagur to open the door to Oswald's shelter. My little Dagcup heart was really soaring here. And look at the lighting!

LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT HIS FACE!

Oooohh man, Dagur expressing guilt about his past and Hiccup trying to help him through it also really got to me.

Dagur: I was a villain!

Hiccup: No, you were a kid

Me: *crying*

Because yeah, Dagur in Riders of Berk/Defenders of Berk did horrible things, but he was also enabled by all the adults in his life who could have stepped up after Oswald left. I've already written (both in posts and in one of my Dagcup fics) about how being thrown into a dungeon as a kid only made Dagur a worse person (no one in the show talks about the scars on his face that weren't there before...). And There is clearly an opportunity for restorative justice when it comes to characters like Alvin and Eret that wasn't extended to Dagur despite the fact that they had already overpowered him and could have at least given him a choice between punishment and trying to make up for his actions. Anyway...let me not rant about that anymore.

Ok what's next...oh yeah! Astrid doing this:

Hilarious.

Um...ok so...I needed to screenshot this for uh...reasons. It's the um...the composition and the...the lighting and...yeah. All that stuff.

THE DRAWING OSWALD DID OF DAGUR AND HEATHER AS KIDS

oooooohhh my heart!

Look. At. My. Boy. He looks so happy and at peace after reading his father's letter.

Ok so again...the writers making very interesting decisions for Dagur's lines.

Dagur being funny and a little concerning again

I liked the colour scheme for this Gronckle

More Dagur appreciation.

Before the episode where Fishlegs helps Dagur fly Shattermaster, I would have assumed Dagur would make fun of Fishlegs for being a nerd -- but instead he appreciates it. I think their friendship is super adorable, and I wish we got to see more of it.

Fishie! He calls him Fishie! (I ship them a little sometimes tbh) I can see Dagur having a thing for nerds.

hehehe

and uh, let's close off with hiccup being hot and windswept

[silentmoths]

Moths very big ultra long thoughts on part III of the archon quest (with pictures!)

Ho...hoo boy that was a lot, we finally got nahida out her damn bedroom and I have things to say.

All of it below the cut so no spoilers for those who dont want em. I will begin with one picture above the cut because HELLO SAILOR

With that note: I dont know how to feel about the majority of the plan being revealed to us as the quest progressed, I get it's a lot of dialouge to put at the beginning but personally I found it frustrating.

The whole alhaithem being a double traitor tho? Liked that, seems very on brand. and it also means we get treated to this lovely shot of haithem bent over a table presenting ass as he should

Everything w nilou's scene happened so fast, but ye olde switcheroo? smart idea.

I, personally, am not a cyno kisser, but I have an OC that I have that does, in fact, kiss him, hello sir what them claws do but also hell yeah protect our girl please and thank.

SPEAKING OF THE GIRL

THERE SHE IS, TOOTS ON THE FLOOR FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 500 FUCKING YEARS.

honestly the fact that rukkhadevata had initially made the barrier in the sancturary so she could meditate in peace, only to have it reverse engineered so the sages could use it to keep Nahida in as opposed to keeping outside forces out?

I've hated the fucking sages since the start I've never been fond of overly snooty academic types like chill the fuck out and touch some grass you pompus dicks.

honestly as you should girl. cut their fucking dicks off.

Hoyo I am begging you to make this a pet

look, before all this, i was NOT fond of scaramouche, to me he was a dinky little twink boy with mommy issues, but then after seeing the parts of his past from part II, yeah ok my heart hurts for him, boy's got abandonment issues and while we didn't see anything about this anemo vision he gets, Im hoping hoyo isn't gonna just yoink it out like rabbit out of a hat.

Helluva boss stolas goetia is that you

Honestly fuck this thing, I have no idea how to fight it, i spent the entire time floundering, zhongli is the only reason I live and breathe thank you for my life geo daddy.

PUT. MY CHILD. DOWN.

NO NOT LIKE THAT-

HELL YEAH SUCK MY ASS IM THE SAGE NOW.

Ok no cap this scene was hard to watch, he's so desperate, clung so tightly to this gnosis and him being a god that to have it ripped away is honestly very painful to watch, you see that vunerability for a brief moment, the actual Kuni that's still in there somewhere and its so sad. I didn't get a shot of him falling from the robot but it's clear losing this gnosis and ripping himself from the machine was not good for him and im having an emotion about it.

somehow...yeah the giant boat isnt even a fucking shock

Im glad we got some closure but also can nahida and rukkhadevata do the creepy twins thing and cause some chaos please and thank you

When the words 'world forget me' started coming into play, i was afraid of this.

BRO

I remember when the teaser came out and everyone was ready to throw hands at whoever made Nahida cry

CANT PUNCH EM ANYMORE, FUCKOS.

I HAVE REACHED POST POINT AND WILL NEED TO MAKE A PART TWO

[bioodorange]

||Crack!Creepypasta Headcanons||

take an old ass drafty post because I have no will too write <3

gimme your thoughts for this its...weird crap i’ve thought about

ya know dipper from gavity falls? and his forehead birthmark thing?

toby has that but it’s the lyra constellation

ben’s gotta sleep with pads on his face so he doesn’t fuck up his sheets

the proxies have a dysfunctional family dynamic

brian and tim switch between overworked dad and sad wine mom

toby’s their poor arsonist child

kate is tobys actual father but has been out of the picture for years

cody’s the neighbour who looks oddly similair too one of toby’s parents

ben’s addicted too bitcoin he thinks its the future of the world

doesn’t care if he’s fuckin dead

he’s considered communism

jeff’s religous trauma + aggressive political upbringing made him beileve anarachy is the only interest

who let angsty anarchy teen and communist twink be friends-

so like liu has a lot of plants and crap

one time sully killed one and replaced it with a fake one

liu cried when he found out he’d been watering plastic

once lj ate sally’s hamster too try and be funny

like held it in his throat and brought it back up when she began crying

slender whooped his hass

all the furniture in the mansion gotta be fuckin huge right

but for the really tall fucks like slender its kinda small right

so just slender sitting on the couch, knees curled up too his chest 

“Well, this is rather uncomfortable?”

and then fuckin tobys 5′7 ass who had too physically jump onto the couch

“bitch what”

jeff thinks clockwork is genuinely into him

whenever she gut punches him or gags when he walks into the room hes like

“dam baby if you wanted a piece of this ass all you had too do was ask”

and then he gets pummeled by someone

I refuse too beileve trender wears sweaters and fucking khackis

he’s all about OOo fashion

bitch looks like a homophobic  day care worker

Helen’s basically a vampire

thin, doesn’t go outside, dark emo boy hair

and like he’s a painter so he’s defintely taken a swig of paint water before right

but he paints with blood

lj doesn’t know how too use a cellphone

fucking fight me on this 

doesn’t have a need for them, he wasn’t really ever exposed too technology

thats why ben slightly scares him

hoe doesn’t understand

jane has her own little garden

that one’s not crackish but cmon its cute

her having like a little bookclub with ej and nina

they’re all friends, fight me

brian has lotsa failed stick and poke tattoos

wanted too be cool too have a small one

fucks it up everytime somehow

always wears longsleeves because of it

everytime its like summer tim tries too get him into a t-shirt

“You’re gonna get fucking heat stroke, we barely have an ac-”

hissing noises

so yeah he just walks around in a sweaty long sleeved shirt

[mochegato]

You’re Mine

Continuation of Mine Protector

“Yeah, I made it home safe.”  Marinette didn’t even try to hide the exasperation in her voice. She tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder as she locked her front door behind her.  “You do realize I literally fight crime in this city, right? I can handle a few blocks.”  She paused to listen to him as she hung up her coat and purse and turning on the lights.  She let out a sigh.  “Yes, even after a few drinks.  For crying out loud.  How much do you think I drank?”

She rolled her eyes and giggled at his response. She moved toward the kitchen and let out a garbled mix between a squeak and screech, nearly dropping the phone. She fumbled to recover the phone with a glare.  “No, no. It’s okay, K… Adrien.  It’s just a vermin found its way into my apartment.” She paused again.  “Uh, huh.  I’m going to have to take care of this.  I’ll talk to you later.  Safe flight,” she answered distractedly.

She shot a withering glare at the vermin. “Make a copy of my key last time you were here?  Without my permission?”

“No,” Red Hood answered coldly.  “Your security just sucks.”

Marinette’s eyes narrowed further.  “No, it really doesn’t.”

“Well, maybe I'm just that good at getting into places,” he answered with a mockingly sweet voice.

Marinette hummed in agreement.  “Most rats are.”  She took off her shoes and slung them toward the bedroom.  She looked back up in mock surprise.  “You still here?”

“Worried your little boy toy is going to come back and get upset?” he growled.  “Or worried he’ll hurt himself trying to fight me.”

“My…” she stared at him while the pieces fit into place.  “You’ve been following me,” she scowled at him, “How creepy is that?  And take off that damned helmet… and mask,” she added quickly realizing he was probably wearing both like the dramatic asshole he was.  “If you’re going to continue to embarrass yourself the least you can do is face me like the rat you are.”

“I wasn’t following you,” he growled.  “I was on patrol.  You weren’t exactly being discrete.  Trying to get my attention, were you?”

Marinette scoffed and leaned toward him.  “You never even entered my mind,” she responded in a sickeningly sweet voice.  “And for the record, if he wanted you hurt, you’d be dead.”

Jason scoffed back.  “Please that twink couldn’t hurt a kitten on its deathbed, let alone me.”

“That ‘twink’ has a higher kill count than you,” she hissed back defensively and immediately slapped her hand over her mouth. That information wasn’t helpful or hers to give.

Jason stared at her for a few seconds.  “And you’re okay with him?” he roared at her, his face contorting in anger.  “You can’t even be seen with me because I take out disgusting, perverted, wastes of polluted air, WHO TORTURE AND KILL innocent kids.  But you can fuck him?”

“Excuse me!” she gaped at him before narrowing her eyes at him.  “My sex life is none of your business.  And there’s a difference.”

“Oh I’m dying to hear it.  I’m dying to hear why I’m not the exception… again.  Why everyone else gets a break but me.  Why everyone else gets a second chance but me,” he yelled back.  “So tell me, what’s so special about Teacher’s Pet.  What makes him the exception?”  She glared at him squeezing her lips together to stop from revealing any more of Adrien’s secrets.  Jason grinned maliciously at her and leaned closer.  “He must be awfully good in bed to warrant a second chance from the Manifestation of Morality.”

“Because it was an accident!” she yelled back at him, her anger boiling too wildly to contain.  She narrowed her eyes at him.  “He lost control once, just once for a few moments, and that’s all it took to kill billions.”  The room was silent as Jason stared at her, her panting breaths the only sound until she started again.  “And he doesn’t even remember it.  I made it like it never happened and made sure he never found out.  So it’s just me.  Just I know. Just I remember it.  

“He has no idea how much power he has, but he has an idea and the thought that he has a infinitesimal fraction of the power he really has terrifies him.  He has nightmares about it.”  She looked away with a frustrated frown.  “He can destroy the world if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. That’s the difference, Jason.  He could but he wouldn’t.”

Jason glared at her, his nostrils flaring.  “Well good for him.  He sounds amazing.  Perfectly perfect for you.  You two can be non-lethal heroes fighting crime… together.  Gotham’s new crime fighting power couple.  They’ll throw parades for you.”

“You sound jealous,” she scoffed.  He stared at her, lips pressed together so tight she couldn’t see any pink.  She gave him a harsh, biting smile.  “Then perish.”  She turned away to get a drink of water missing the way his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

“Far be it from me to interfere with your happiness,” he gritted out.  “Just worried about your safety, not to mention your future, with pretty boy if you’re using him to get my attention.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow and set down the water bottle she’d just filled.  “Where was that concern two weeks ago when you tried to shoot me?  And what would Little Miss Green Hair think about that concern?” she hissed back accusingly.

Jason stared at her for a few seconds.  “I shot near you for appearances.  You were never in danger.  You’re the one that doesn’t want anyone to know we’re… that we…” he faltered for how to finish the sentence.  What were they?  He didn’t even know let alone have words to describe it.  He focused on the second part of what she said instead.  “And that’s Jenny.  You saw me talking with one of my lieutenants and decided to jump on the first dick you came across?”

“I did NOT jump on anything!  And don’t think so highly of yourself, you conceited prick. Your romantic interest in anything that moves doesn’t determine my actions,” Marinette shrieked at him.  

Jason leaned toward her with a smug look on his face. “So what was Teacher’s Pet?”

“Teacher’s Pet was…”  She stopped herself before she continued that sentence.  It wasn’t his business.  Adrien wasn’t his business.  And he had absolutely no right to be upset about her talking to someone when he was… when he…  She furrowed her brow in frustration and pushed her face in his.  “So you’re allowed to screw whoever you come across but I’m a whore if I talk to a man?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?  You’re bringing someone home with you every night this week and you’re completely innocent but I have a female working for me and I’m a whore mongering asshole?” he demanded.

“What about Miss Green Hair?  You two were doing an awful lot more than just talking when I saw you two.  And she has been quite, what’s the word,” she tapped her lips with her glass of water she hadn’t filled yet, as if in thought, “effusive in her descriptions of your interactions to anyone who would listen.  All around town.  Do you know how many times I’ve heard about your girlfriend and all the escapades you two have been up to?” she hissed at him.  “And all the many places you’ve been up to it?”

Jason gaped at her.  “You two are quite the gossip in Gotham.  Every henchman and rogue wants to talk about it. Every.  Single.  Time. We encounter one of them.  But, far be it from me to interfere with your happiness.”  She smirked back at him condescendingly, pulling her lips tight enough for the trembling not to be noticeable.  She leaned into the anger, trying to focus on that feeling rather than the feeling like a broken, ridged knife cutting through her.

He stalked over to her and loomed over her. She stood her ground, refusing to back away from him and give him that satisfaction, her smirk deepening with resolve. “I never touched her.  I never even hugged her goodbye.  She’s a damned liar if she said anything different,” he growled, leaning his face closer to hers until his lips were centimeters from hers.

Marinette’s smirk faltered and morphed into uncertainty. “I have absolutely no interest in her as anything other than an employee and after tonight she won’t be that anymore either.  And jealousy,” his eyes flicked between her lips and her eyes, looking for any signs of hesitance, or more overt permission, “doesn’t begin to describe it.”

Her eyes darkened and her breath became labored. She reached her hand up to touch his face but let her hand hover just shy of touching him, unsure if she was allowed or if she wanted what would come next.  She looked up to meet his eyes through half lidded eyes.  She finally let her fingers caress his face and Jason broke.  He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her flush against him.  He pressed his lips against hers in a hard, bruising, possessive kiss.  Marinette pushed back just as desperately.  She wound her arms around his neck and tugged him down to her level so she could intensify the kiss.  

She pulled away just enough to speak, her forehead pressed against his, her hands still around his neck, clinging to him, keeping him from moving away, her breath fanning over his lips.  “Why?”  She searched his eyes desperately, needing to know what this was, what this meant.

“Because you’re mine.”  He pulled her in for another hard, overpowering kiss, his tongue caressing hers, his teeth nipping her lips.  He ran his hands down her sides to her butt and grabbed it hard enough to leave bruises.  She moaned into his mouth and pulled him closer.  He lifted her up and settled her around her waist and continued to massage her butt.  He pushed her against the counter, supporting her weight on it while his hands roamed her thighs and belly.

“You’re mine,” he repeated against her neck as he kissed a line of open mouthed, wet kisses down to her clavicle, drawing soft, breathless whimpers.  “You’re mine,” he said again.  This time he pulled away from her, his eyes sought hers out, a questioning look in them, seeking confirmation, seeking agreement from her that she wanted to be his.

She nodded breathlessly.  “Yours.  If you’re mine too.”  She pulled his shirt off to get access to his chest and pulled him against her, laying kisses along his upper chest and neck.

He hissed as her nails raked across his back.  He brought her face back up to meet his and nodded, whispering “Only yours.  Always yours,” before ripping her shirt off of her.

<><><><><> 

Jason carded his fingers through Marinette’s hair as she laid on him, her head resting on his bare chest.  She hummed in appreciation and nuzzled further into his chest, running her hands lightly over his naked sides and hips.  He chuckled and shimmied slightly under her fingers, threatening to knock her off of him.  She looked up at him with an amused smirk.  “Careful, Pixie.  That’s dangerous,” he warned with a smile.

Marinette chuckled and rested her head back down, smiling against his chest.  “I’ll take my chances.”

Jason smiled back and started carding his fingers through her hair again.  After a few moments, his brow scrunched up, almost too lightly to see.  He wet his lips slowly as he prepared himself for the next question.  “So what about that guy?”  He was forcing his voice to sound casual about the question despite his racing heart.

“Hmmm?” she hummed questioningly.

“I’m just…” he started, not sure how to finish the thought.  “What are we now?”

She looked up at him with a frown.  She started to shy away from him, reaching for a sheet to cover herself for the important conversation he’d started.  His question had popped the utopic bubble they had created, allowing reality to come flooding in.  “I... I don't know.”  

“Are we dating? Boyfriend girlfriend? Fuck buddies?”

“We're not...” she started, aghast at the suggestion, but snapped her mouth closed and pulled away from him to pull the sheet around herself.  “It’s… is that all it is for you?”  Her eyes filling with hurt.

Jason scowled and pulled her down for another searing kiss.  He wove his fingers into her hair, pulling her head closer to hiss her harder.  He wound his other arm around her waist, turning them over so he was hovering over her.  He pulled away just enough to trace her face lightly, staring deeply into her eyes.  “This is a lot more to me.  You’re a lot more to me.”

Marinette let out a relieved breath and offered a gentle smile.  “Me too.” She ran her fingers along his jaw and cupped his face with a soft look.  Suddenly her face turned strained because Jason was right.  What were they? What could they be?  She searched his eyes.  She loved being with him.  She loved their time together and the feeling of his fingers on her body.  

But it wasn’t that easy was it?  Just him and her and how they felt.  Reality was more complicated than that.  Marinette hated reality; reality where Jason could be cold blooded, reality where she could be sanctimonious, reality where he killed, reality where she had to fight him, reality where she wasn’t allowed to plan a future with him.  “I… we…” she took a deep breath and looked up at him again, her eyes shimmering.  “I can't be with a crime boss.”

Jason looked away and nodded in understanding. He knew that was how she felt.  He knew where she stood.  She’d never tried to hide it.  She’d always been honest with him.  He started to roll off of her but she pulled him back to her.  “But I…” her voice was verging on desperate.  Jason looked back up, hope back in his eyes.  “It's more than just...” she floundered, trying to figure out the words.

He brushed nonexistent hairs from her brow.  “I just know,” he started, cutting her off, “I don't want to see anyone but you.  I don't want to touch anyone but you.  I don't want to be with anyone but you. And the idea of you with anyone else hurts.”

Marinette nodded and traced his face gently with her fingertips.  “I don't want to be with anyone but you either.  And the thought of you with someone else kills me.”

Jason turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow and lightly tracing her jaw.  “So... what about Teacher’s Pet?”

Marinette smiled and turned toward him.  “He's a friend.  A really good friend.  Almost a brother.  He…” she thought if how to phrase it.  She trusted Jason.  Probably more than she should and he already knew her secret, but Adrien's secret wasn't hers to tell, despite how much she’d stupidly already given away.  But, she wanted him to understand how important Adrien was to her.  So half-truth it would have to be.  Not a lie, but not telling his secret either.  “He was a hero for a short while.  He saved my life more than a few times.  He was visiting for a few days and slept on my couch.  He just flew home tonight.”

“So…” he prompted, a relieved smile starting to grace his face.

“So, not romantic.  Platonic relationship.  Familial. And happens to be a teacher so… amazingly accurate name, by the way,” she grinned up at him.

Jason smiled back at her as he leaned down to kiss her gently, softly and stroked his nose against hers, resting his forehead against hers.  “Thank God,” he whispered.

“And Jenny?” she asked tentatively.

“I’ll let her live out of deference to you, but I’ll need to choose a new lieutenant.”

She shifted her eyes to the side for a moment as she thought.  “Beth would be good, or Glenn.  I like Glenn.”

“Glenn can’t keep his mouth shut when you’re around,” Jason grumbled playfully.

“I know,” she smiled up at him, her eyes shimmering with mirth.  “That’s why I like him.”  Jason rolled his eyes but smiled.  “He said I remind him of his daughter, so I think he’s kind of protective a little bit.”

Jason groaned and buried his head in her shoulder. “Well now I have to choose him.”

Marinette giggled and pushed up to peck his lips. She bit her lip and looked into his eyes anxiously.  “So where does that leave us?  Not dating, but not not dating…”

Jason quirked his lips to the side and furrowed his brow in thought.  “That leaves us as us.  Not official, but together.  I’m not giving up my work helping Gotham and neither are you so… Still enemies but... with benefits.”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Marinette giggled and hooked her leg over his hip and pushing him back until she was straddling him.  “I better be the only enemy getting those benefits.  Or ally for that matter.  Or neither.”

Jason smiled at the change of position.  He cupped her face and worked his hand behind her head to pull her down for a kiss.  “You are.  And you?”

Marinette kissed him sweetly and smiled against his lips. “You're the only one getting those benefits, too.  Have been since we met.”

Jason nodded.  “Me too.”  He pulled her down for a longer, more intense kiss.  “Marinette, I…”  He couldn’t finish the sentence.  It wasn’t the right time to say it.  They weren’t ready for him to say it.  But even if he couldn’t say it, he still felt it.  He knew what the jealousy he had felt meant.  He knew what the anxiousness he felt when he was going to see her meant.  He knew what the tightening in his chest when she left meant.  He knew what he was feeling, but he couldn’t put it out there. Not yet.  “…I hope you’re ready for this.”  He shot her a devilish grin before turning them over again and pulling the sheet away.

Continued in Mine Replacement

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @aespades @jayjayspixiepop

[whoacanada]

Zimmerbro AU

Summary: Andrew Phillip Rowe could skate before he could walk, and it wasn’t until he was almost twenty and well on his way to becoming a Las Vegas Ace before he knew why.

a/n: that’s right we’ve got a secret zimmermann brother au based on the fact that Bob was an active pro athlete for almost 15 years before Jack was born and almost definitely had relationships before Alicia. This particular one resulted in a secret love child.

When the call finally went out that year —  a request for players willing to billet the incoming draftees —  Andrew had been the first in line.

His already sparsely decorated guest room had been primed for a new tenant since he’d learned Las Vegas’ abysmal season had earned them the first pick of the 2009 draft. In his mind, Andrew had envisioned a tearful confession. A family reunion nineteen years in the making where he’d finally get a chance to connect with a half-brother he’d grown up learning about through news articles and stats pages.

He wasn’t ready for Jack to pull out of the draft days before the ceremony; wasn’t ready for the claims of an overdose or speculation about suicide attempts. He certainly wasn’t expecting to have to open his home to a young man with limp blonde hair and deep circles under his eyes with the same enthusiasm he’d promised he’d offer to a son of Bob Zimmermann.

Andrew was hoping for a little brother. 

He got Kent Parson instead.

______

“You remind me of my boyfriend.” Kent slurs one night, completely gone on Johnny Walker Blue borrowed from Andrew’s wet bar. “It’s your . . . face.”

“Shouldn’t talk about things like that,” Andrew cautions gently, covering his own surprise. “Never know who might be listening.”

“Who fucking cares? He won’t talk to me,” Kent continues, ignoring him and sniffing like he’s on the verge of sobbing or puking, both options equally unwanted. “They wouldn’t tell me if he was even alive.”

Another unwanted puzzle piece locks into place.

“Jack?” Andrew suggests softly, and Kent begins to cry.

“You won’t tell right?”

Andrew shakes his head no, long enough for Kent’s bleary eyes to focus on the gesture and take it seriously.

Things are different, after that conversation. Not worse, or better, just different.

________

“He’s my brother.”

Andrew admits this one night, for no reason other than that he can.

Kent is across the room, backlit by lights from the Strip, his legs dangling off the arm of his favorite couch as he scrolls through his phone looking for distractions. Parse hasn’t lived with Andrew for almost two seasons, but he still turns up like a bad penny whenever he needs to commiserate with someone who knows his more lascivious secrets. Truthfully, Andrew’s grateful for the company. He’s a pretty genial guy, but he’s always kept his distance, a personality trait he likes to think he shares with an unassuming sibling, but there’s no way to know for sure. The farther Andrew gets from the 2009 Draft, the less faith he has in a reunion that won’t just bring crippling sorrow to everyone involved.

A secret Zimmermann son who actually made it in the NHL. Who has his name on the Stanley Cup, not once, but twice, largely thanks to the spitfire forward lounging in Andrew’s living room.

“Who’s your brother?” Kent asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Jack Zimmermann.”

Kent barks a laugh and rolls his head lazily to smirk at Andrew.

“That’s funny. I guess you kinda have the same chin. Was Marky digging for chirps?”

Andrew has no idea what that means, but he sets down his tablet and says, “No, he’s actually my half-brother. My mom dated Bad Bob in ’84 and got pregnant.”

The lackadaisical smile on Kent’s face falters as his gaze sharpens, like he’s actually looking at Andrew for the first time. Andrew responds by gesturing at himself lamely.

“That’s not funny.”

“No.” Andrew agrees. “It isn’t.”

Kent swings his feet down off the couch and braces himself against the overstuffed leather. He doesn’t look mad, but there’s something too close to disbelief for Andrew to convince himself everything’s okay. It takes a moment, but Kent must find what he’s looking for on Andrew’s face.

“Does Bob know?” Kent asks with that familiar overfamiliarity, as if they both still have some personal relationship with the living legend.

“Yeah. When Mom got pregnant she told him she didn’t want the attention since it was only a fling — ”

“Who the fuck doesn’t lock down Bob Zimmermann?” Kent breathes. “Also, why the fuck did she tell you that?”

“No shit, right? She got him to sign away parental rights, set up a trust, never spoke to him again as far as I know. I didn’t find out until after I signed with the Aces. She didn’t want me to get blindsided if it all came out, but the story never broke.”

“I mean, does Bob know who you are?” Kent questions. “Does Jack?”

Andrew shakes his head no, because he doesn’t think so, and Kent flops back against the cushions, face slack with disbelief; it doesn’t take long for his features to shift to anger.

“You knew this whole time and you didn’t tell me? Even after I told you —“

“Okay, there’s a whole-ass difference between you fucking dudes and and me being ‘Bad Bob’s bastard’,” Andrew bites, curtailing Kent’s imminent hissy fit. Appropriately, Kent closes his mouth, almost pouting.

“Fine. But that’s fucked.” Kent says after a loaded moment of silence. “I’m sorry you’re . . . you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry you’re you, too.”

“You know Jack’s signing with the Falconers, right?” Kent offers like the worst kind of olive branch, unintentionally telling Andrew exactly what he was up to during that stretch of time between New England games a few months prior. “It’s not public but it’s happening. Ink’s dry.”

“I know. That’s why I told you. It’s gonna be weird,” Andrew swallows, thinking about playing Providence in the coming months.

“Fucking right it’s weird.”

_________

For the most part, the Las Vegas Aces are decent, stand up guys. Even with the accusations of gambling debts and mob connections with the ownership group, Andrew’s never been asked to hit a certain player a little too hard, or to take a dive so the other team gets a shot at a power play. A lot of talk, a lot of conspiracies, ‘Typical Aces hockey’, but there’s no malice. Not really.

Andrew thinks it’s hilarious he plays the game a lot like his estranged father, but he’s not a legend in the making, hell, at this point he’s barely regarded as more than a mid-level, reliable center that can bring home 40 points a season.

Carly whips behind Zimmermann’s back to clip his skate with a stick, dropping a ill advised chirp that sets every player in earshot on edge. Parse is close enough to catch the quiet slur, stiffening like he’s been hit, and Andrew watches Zimmermann recover quickly, steely and resolute. 

Jack has his mother’s eyes — not the warm brown Andrew catches every time he looks in the mirror.

“He’s a fucking goon,” Andrew breathes, gliding up to Jack’s shoulder in lieu of an apology. Zimmermann doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze flicking to Andrew with the quiet rage of ‘who gives a fuck’. Andrew admires his commitment to the game. Coming back after so much, after so long, to willingly subject himself to the same kind of treatment that Andrew knows likely led to his original fall from grace.

“Hey,” Kent ducks his head as he slides up a little while later, mouthguard clenched between his teeth, and asks, “You see his twink?”

At Andrew’s obvious confusion, Kent jerks his head toward the glass behind the Falconers’ bench, to a raucous group of fans all sporting fresh Zimmermann jerseys. Andrew’s gaze drifts along the row of faces, lingering longer on the familiar, handsome couple beside the blonde young man. He may be imagining things — the stadium lights catching a bad angle —  but for the briefest moment, Andrew holds eye contact with his father.

“He’s cute, right?” Kent says bitterly, like he doesn’t have a partner of his own back home.

“Yeah, he is. You gonna do anything about the slurs, Captain?” Andrew counters, earning a stern look from Parson.

“I’ll deal with Carly.”

“Oh, you will? Because I’ve never seen you shut him down before.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Kent’s expression goes stormy, and he gives Andrew a hard shove before skating off to set up for the next shift. To his credit, he does grab Carly by the arm and tell him something that earns a look of displeasure from the larger man, but Andrew knows a verbal warning won’t curtail someone as dead-set in his conservatism as Carly.

The next play, Carly flashes Andrew a toothy smile over the lineman’s shoulder, as if they’re in on the same joke, and his vision goes red.

__________

__________

“Bad Bob’s outside,” Scraps rasps, like whatever brief interaction he’s just had has physically winded him. “He wants to talk to Flip.”

Andrew blinks up from the water bottle in his hands, previously concerned with the pink-stained gauze wrapped around his knuckles. A few of the guys start chirping, but most of them remain silent, still processing the fact that Andrew assaulted one of their own without clear motivation, in defense of an opponent.

“That’s what this was all about? You gunning for a trade?” Sorenson spits from his stall. “Needed to impress Bad Bob by beating the snot out of Carly?”

“Maybe I am,” Andrew sighs, pushing himself to his feet, wincing at the way his jaw aches from the few good hits Carly had managed to squeeze in before he went down. “What the fuck are you gonna do about it.”

_______

Andrew’s grateful he kept his skates on. He needs the boost of confidence that comes with the added height, especially when he finds Bob Zimmermann waiting patiently in the corridor like he’s just another staff member and not the second most recognizable figure in modern hockey.

“Hey kid,” Bob greets, casting an approving, overly-familiar eye over Andrew’s padded bulk and sweat-slick hair. “You can throw a hell of a punch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy beat the piss out of a teammate before. Off ice, sure, but never during a game.”

His accent is just as thick in private as every interview Andrew’s ever caught live — but his tone is unexpectedly warm, even grateful — when Bob laughs at his own recounting of Andrew’s assault attempt, the sound is light and joyous like nothing in the world comes easier to this titan of a man.

Andrew wonders if Bob can recognize the chin they share beneath a his playoff beard; if there’s any resemblance left in a nose that’s been reset a half-dozen times.

Andrew grew up loved and never wanted for anything. His step-fathers, both of them, had been good men who never left him looking for a father figure. It wasn’t until his twenties that Andrew even realized there was hole where his bio-dad should have been, and not just a regular hole, a yawning sinkhole threatening to devour his entire sense of self, because his biological father turned out to be a man he grew up idolizing as a personal hero.

He’s not mad at his mother, but when Andrew struggles to find his voice — which is bullshit seeing as he’s almost thirty-five and a god-damned professional athlete — he can’t stop himself from feeling like a misplaced child.

“Do you,” Andrew swallows, looking over Bob’s shoulder to see if anyone’s watching them. Finding they’re alone, he rallies quietly, “Do you know who I am?”

Bob’s jovial expression softens into something remorseful, but unfathomably kind. “I do, buddy,” he acknowledges, somehow squeezing three decades of affection into one term of endearment. “I’ve known for some time, now. The whole time, actually.”

That hurts more than expected.

“Does your wife? Does Jack?”

Bob shakes his head, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Alicia knows, and Jack has some idea he’s got a half-brother, but it’s all in the abstract. No specifics. Definitely doesn’t know you play. I wanted to respect your privacy and your mother’s wishes. She let me know she’d told you the truth a few years back and I wanted to give you the space you needed if you decided to reach out. When you didn’t, well, a man makes assumptions.”

Andrew looks down at the concrete beneath his skates and sniffs hard, fighting nasal drip from the smelling salts he’d needed in the third period; or, at least, that’s what he tells himself. “I had a plan, back when — ” he stops himself, looking down at his skates. Bob’s eyebrows lift in curiosity, leaving room for Andrew to gather his thoughts, but he doesn’t take the bait, unable to bring up what could have been just yet. Bob seems to grasp the context after the moment.

“2009,” he acknowledges softly. “Hell of a year.”

“Yeah. It was. Is he okay?”

“What, Jack? He’s leagues ahead of where he was then —”

“No, I mean, tonight. Carly clipped him pretty hard before I got in there.”

“Oh, a little bruised up, but he’ll live. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Okay.”

Andrew looks down at his bandaged fist and realizes he’s completely forgotten how gnarly his face must look.

“Trainer says I’m alright, but I’m gonna get leveled with a wicked fine, I know it.”

“Was it worth it?” There’s a look of guilty pride on Bob’s face, like the man’s enjoying himself a little too much when he leans in and whispers, “You just did something I’ve wanted to do since Jack was in mites. Fucking lay out one of those fuckers that’s got nothing better to do than bitch because they can’t play,” there’s a moment of hesitation, as if he’s worried about pushing a boundary, before he adds, “How’d it feel to look out for your little brother?”

Pride, it turns out, in contagious, and Andrew feels like he could go back on the ice and do it all over again. “Pretty fucking great,” Andrew can’t help a smile, wincing when the gesture pulls at his split lip.

Bob slaps a hand on Andrew’s shoulder pads, then gets a grip on the back of his head, heedless of his sweaty hair.

“Crisse, you’re a fuckin’ beaut, kid. I’ve wanted to tell you that for years.”

Andrew can’t blame the smelling salts anymore.

__________

Jack clearly doesn’t see his father standing there with red-rimmed eyes, or Andrew in an equally unkempt state, and has no reason to think anything untoward has happened when he offers a handshake and pulls Andrew into a hug, bouncing his free fist off the back of Andrew’s pads. “I owe you a drink,” Jack says decisively when he pulls back, shooting a grin between his father and Andrew. “Can’t believe you did that.”

“More than a drink, I think,” the blonde guy Andrew saw behind the bench pipes up. Jack’s ‘twink’. Boyfriend. Whatever. “Dinner at least.”

“A pie,” Bob suggests tightly, keeping his voice even as he turns to quickly scrub his fist over his eyes. Andrew recognizes the statuesque woman who strides up beside Bob, and one quick look tells him she definitely knows who he is.

“Hello, Andrew,” Alicia greets softly, genuinely. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” he says, the tightness in his throat coming out as gruffness rather than emotion. “This is great, but I should go shower and, uh, it was nice meeting you all.”

Bob’s hand whips out and fists the sleeve of Andrew’s sweater, keeping him in place.

“You have plans tonight?”

Andrew debates lying, because he doesn’t know how to move forward from this point, but they’re all looking at him. Waiting. Expectant. There’s too much at stake, and yet somehow — A sharp whistle drags Andrew’s attention back to the locker room. Kent is peeking his head out, and god knows how long he’s been eavesdropping.

“Yo, Zimmermanns. Bittle.”

“Parson.” The blonde says curtly, earning a wry smirk from Kent.

“Flip, we got a presser if you feel like putting a bow on the evening,” Kent’s gaze drifts to Bob’s flushed face, and he adds, “Or, you can shower and slip out the loading bay while I cover for your aggro ass because this is not going to be fun. Your call.”

Andrew looks at the small family surrounding him, his family, and says, “I don’t want to explain.” Kent shrugs and ducks back inside while Bob’s brow furrows in confusion. “I can do dinner, but I don’t want to,” Andrew holds his hands out in front of him, trying to gesture what he means, and Bob snaps his fingers in understanding.

“Ah, ha, I got you, kid.”

“Neat. I’m gonna go shower.”

“We will be here when you’re ready,” Alicia offers. “Take your time.”

“Oh, I will,” Andrew replies before he can stop himself, cringing the second his back is turned because what the fuck could he be any more awkward?

Time will tell.

_____________

.

[nagdabbit]

MY GIRLFRIEND'S COMMENTARY WHILE WATCHING HER FIRST AEW PPV

"my entire fitness goal is hook's shoulder-waist ratio, but with taz's extremely dense neck."

"the funniest thing about wrestling is that this fucking company is trying to make something called a stadium stampede sound both cool, AND serious."

gf: "if you cry listening to a crowd sing judas again, im divorcing you." me: "so that means youre gonna marry me." gf: "i've been bamboozled."

about brian cage: "this man is a huge dork. like, literally, i could fit me in him."

"i dunno what it is, but i would die to protect mr. hangman. he hunk, but he also baby."

thoughtfully, "i bet i could just catch you out of the air like that. i mean, i can squat you, i could probably even curl you like that, too."

because she is deeply in wrestling twitter now: "HOOK! babe, look, its hook! hook hive, rise up!"

"what i love about this feud is that all these men are fuckin' idiots. no brain cells, just shoes and fwiendship."

"what do you mean their tag team isn't just the wild boys, wtf? missed opportunity."

"those kicks are ugly, but i would steal them, too, honestly." *thirty seconds of silence layer* "for you, babe. i'd steal them for you, i mean."

"jon, no, the germs, jon, jesus christ, please dont drink that jon you dumbass."

"i love eddie, but i'm pretty sure we should never hang out. too much extremely new york energy, we would get arrested in like ten minutes. possibly less."

"diorsday device is the funniest shit ive ever fucking heard, how goddamn sad is that."

"max caster is gonna get murdered, but i love him."

"i wish bowens and his extremely attractive boyfriend the best in life."

"colt cabana and tay conti are tied for best smile in wrestling, but tay wins because i dont want colt to kick me in the face."

"penta is the only joker i formally recognize."

"today i found out that some people don't like stu and uno, and to them i say get entirely fucked."

after rush came out and i lost my entire shit: "i don't fully understand yet, but i support you." *one minute later* "oooooooooooohh. okay, yeah."

gf: "i enjoy that cody is pushing ogogo by being a dumb bitch with this america schtick." me: "you gonna say that when cody wins?" gf: "...fuck."

"ogogo got that guy ritchie movie ass music you love to see it."

"you were right about cody and i fuckin' hate it."

"aw yeah, its big boi season."

about miro: "i'm very gay, but the thing is, men with extremely jacked traps just do something to me."

"lance changed changed the color of his extensions and i appreciate that." *thirty seconds later* "are those... three crosses? tattooed on his back? jesus doesnt like murder, i don't think he likes murderhawks, either."

"britt baker is the only dentist i want in my mouth. no, wait, don't type that one!"

"oh, fuck, shidas getting teary i'm gonna fuckin cry, oh fuck, i get it now, i'm so sorry i made fun of you, i love her."

"oh fuck, shida knee me directly in the face."

"britt scares me. like the blood drip details on her gear are really cool, but i would legit believe its real blood from her."

"are you really crying about britt and the nice announcer man hugging?"

"hey, quick question, just real quick while ive got you here... why is the emo twink... like this?"

"darby's dad looks like my dad, and i'll never be okay with that."

"i like that darby just yeets himself around like that. he came in like a wrecking ball. a tiny, tiny wrecking ball."

"sting just tossing his son around the ring like that is very good, but, sir, that's bad parenting."

"the thing about sky and page is that these are the suburb guys i beat up at the beach on summer vacation. they have big "i robbed these guys at the pier" energy."

"damn, darby just feels his emotion with his entire face, doesnt he."

"okay explain the gambling thing and WHY it's a thing."

"orange rolling into the ring is so fucking good, that man is national treasure."

after me showing her the video of younger orange cassidy shitfaced and holding a fish for no reason: "i am shocked and appalled that you're only showing me this now."

after explaining the history of the jansport: "the range of this dumbass."

"i get that kenny is good and all, but his hair really fucks me up. it's upsettingly bad and i hope he knows that."

"pac is just. so much muscle. flippy beef man. a meateor." she did specify how to spell it for the joke because it was important.

"that man is a weeb, isnt he."

"something about a man breaking a hold by putting his hands in his pockets really gets me hype."

"fuck just murder omega and be done i hate this, put it on the beef man or the juicey boy already."

"babe, ill be right back i gotta murder this callis bitch."

screaming, "THAT'S MY FAVORITE REF, YOU UGLY FUCK!"

after kenny won: "i fucking hate wrestling, this is bullshit."

"holy fuck, babe, i forgot mark henry was a wrestle boy! i know him from the olympics!"

"hey, is mark henry bigger than large paul?"

"mjf is a dumb bitch and i love him."

"hey, quick question, who thought repelling down the stadium would look cool, they're so far away."

"there's wardlow, my sweet boy. this is cool now."

she laughed for a solid two minutes at tony schiavone saying, "here comes the little guy."

"i fuckin hate hager. kill him wardlow, kill that crispy maga ass bitch."

"okay what's with the chairs." *after a brief explanation of the chairshot heard round the world* "and, like, he can't just pick a new gimmick? it's been two years, bro. move on, shes not coming back."

"okay, i admit that this is great and i love it, kill that old man on the dancefloor."

upon learning this is technically the main event: "you mean it's over after this? theyre ending the show on THIS? not the triple threat match, this?"

"i just noticed mjf's bedazzled jeans, i'm not angry anymore, this is perfect."

"no, more wardlow. gimme the beef."

"christ, sammy guevara is kinda incredible and i'm fuckin angry about it. why cant inner circle be just sammy and santana and ortiz, fuck the other two."

"no, shut up! i refuse to sing along to this! whats wrong with you?! this is a bad song!"

[deniigi]

hi I have something for y’all called a disaster.

I wrote an Inimitable!Spiderman/Modern Star Wars AU because no one can stop me, not even myself. it is like 47 pages long. I am handing it tenderly to y’all.

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

Title: impossible scenario

Summary: Peter runs into some drunk assholes arguing, calling each other Han and Luke. He lets it roll off him until he can’t anymore and eventually finds himself for the first time on the other side of someone more chaotic than himself.

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

There was an argument happening under a fire escape. Peter knew about it because a concerned dude wearing a fuckin’ Yankees cap had flagged him down with waving arms and told him that someone needed saving, Spiderman. Some tall asshole was kidnapping a young blond dude, the guy  and his too-cool-for-him girlfriend explained. They’d heard the two scuffling.

Peter maybe stared for a beat too long at them because the gal pointed two blocks behind him and said, “That way. I think the blond guy might be drugged. He’s slurrin’ something strong.”

Peter liked her shoes. They looked like Miles’s, but blue.

“Spidey?”

Miles told Peter all the time that he wasn’t cool enough to wear Jordans. MJ and Johnny had agreed. Such sad times.

“Spidey.”

“I got it,” Peter sighed.

The gal tsked.

“Man, you’re too young to be this jaded,” she said.

Peter sighed.

“You’re the third person to say that this week,” he said. “You think I should go back to therapy?”

There was a pause.

“You know that answer, dude,” cool-gal said. “Go save the twink.”

Twink. Got it. Thank you, citizen.

“There are websites for that shit, Spidey.”

Bye now.

“Apps, even.”

Bye, bye.

“BetterHelp or Headspace or somethin’—”

“Two blocks, you said?” Peter asked.

 --

 Two blocks away, there was indeed a man with dark hair trying to lift a violently intoxicated twink up onto the first steps of a fire escape. Peter examined his options. There were many ways to ruin a potential kidnapper’s day. His favorite involved coke and mentos, although he’d received feedback that that was a waste of perfectly good food. Down the list was also the option to walk over and scream bloody murder so that the kidnapper shat themselves and dropped their target.

That was good, but Peter was tired and the thought of mustering up the energy to scream at a noticeable volume made his thighs turn to Jell-o.

That left snark and violence.

Today, he would not choose violence. Only for today.

He strode out of his dark temporary residence between two dumpsters directly towards the tall dude and his mark. The mark was a messy one. Bless his heart, he was unwittingly making himself the most noncompliant victim to have ever victim-ed. Every time the tall guy got him almost vertical, he gave up his corporeal form to become drunk slime and ooze back to the ground with various moaning sound effects.

It would have been funny if not for the kidnapping context.

The fact that Peter had been standing there under the beams of two separate side-building security lights and neither of those two had noticed yet was also objectively funny—or would have been, if Peter had the capacity for processing humor at the moment.

Alas. This was what he got for telling Tony that he’d evolved beyond the need for sleep. He got caffeine-pilled. And there would be no true rest until that shit wore off, exhausted as Peter’s body yearned to be.

“Kid, work with me here,” the tall guy said.

“I can’t, I’ll die,” the shorter one moaned.

“Luke.”

“I’ve done my time—thirty years in AZKA—”

“Keep your voice down, oh my god.”

Peter was just standing here, fellas.

“Luke.”

“Why’s it always me? Why’s it always gotta be me? The hell did I do to piss off the whole galax-galaxy? HA. My bad, my bad. The whole universe?”

God, what a mood.

The tall guy dropped his grip on the smaller one and loomed over his puddle of ooze with poison in his gaze.

“People are going to die, Luke,” he said.

“So what? They’re always dyin’. Everywhere I go, people’re dyin’ and when it’s not them dyin’, you know who is?”

“Kid.”

“ME.”

“So you’re just gonna wallow there, feelin’ sorry for yourself?” the tall dude snapped.

“Sure am,” the puddle of ooze hummed.  

This was not a kidnapping. This was a come-to-Jesus in the back alley of a bar. Peter was not needed here. He turned around on his heel and stopped when he heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Is that?” someone whispered.

“Don’t mind me, pal, just your friendly neighborhood—” he started.

“Look what you did,” Tall and Handsome hissed at Ooze-Man. “Someone went and called Spiderman on us.”

Peter lifted a brow as Ooze-man ripped its chest up from the asphalt and composed itself back into a human shape with fluffy blonde hair and huge wide eyes.

“Omigod, it’s Spiderman,” the guy said. “Wait, no. Gimme a hand. No, not that one, fuck off, nevermind, I don’t need you.”

He drew himself up to standing, only leaning slightly on his buddy there and gave Peter as lopsided smile.

“Hi, there,” he said with a twang that Peter couldn’t place. “Were you lookin’ for someone, handsome?”

Ah, they had reached the time of night when all the drunks needed to tell Peter things he already knew about his ass. He loved this time.

Not to mention that this dude looked eerily like Johnny. Scarily like Johnny. So much like Johnny that Peter almost wanted to take a picture of him to send to Sue so that she could print up some lost and found posters.

“Just lookin’ at you, babe,” he said. “This guy botherin’ you?”

The tall guy blanched and then grabbed at his face in horror. Peter swallowed his laugh.

“He sure is, hon. You got time to rescue me?” Blondie crooned.

“Luke, please. Please.”

“Because I’m in real distress,” ‘Luke’ said with a pout mighty enough to fell Thor.

“You sure seem like it,” Peter said. “C’mere. I’ll walk you home. Leave that tool, he ain’t worth your breath.”

He held out an elbow like proper gentleman and was pleased at the hand that Luke laid over his heart in response.

Peter could imagine Johnny’s face in six different expression of jealous horror at a selfie taken with this look-alike. Each was beautiful in its own special way. As payment for being referred to counseling by the public, he at least deserved to receive at least two of those faces.

“You mean that?” Luke asked him.

“He doesn’t,” his tall companion said.

“I sure do, where do you live? I’ll walk you,” Peter said.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cry, he’s gonna escort me,” Luke said, all choked up and fanning his eyes lightly.

This tall friend grabbed him before he could escape, though, and pulled him back behind his own body.

“Listen, Spidey, this is a misunderstanding,” he drawled. “I know this idiot—he is technically my idiot— and I’m the one escorting his ass home. Thanks, though. You’re a real menace. Beat it.”

MMMMMMM.

And here Peter had been planning on being jaded and miserable this fine night. How could he now when this dude was ticking every box that made him feel alive?

“What’s your name, dollface?” Peter asked across the short distance.

“None of your business,” Tall Guy answered abruptly.

“Luke,” Luke said around him. “Are you gonna save me?”

“In just a minute,” Peter said, striding forward with a hard roll in his shoulder and deep drop in his knees.

It was amazing how Tall Guy wanted to take some steps back all of the sudden. Peter couldn’t help but let a smirk widen his face as he advanced.

“Okay, hang on now,” Tall Guy said with both palms out in front of him. “You don’t know what this is about, Spidey. You don’t want to get involved with this, trust me. He’s just bein’ dramatic. No need to get testy.”

“You sure do a lot of talkin’ for your friend there,” Peter noted through his grin.

“Yeah, Han,” Luke said.

Ha.

Han. Han and Luke. Ned was gonna be enraptured when Peter told him about this later.

“Luke. Back me up.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” ‘Han’ finally snapped. “I’m not doin’ this because I want you to suffer, alright? I don’t want nothin’ to do with it either, okay? No one does. But it’s this or—”

“Or everyone else,” Luke finished for him in a strangely toneless voice.

Han sighed.

“It’s always everyone else,” Luke said.

“Not here.”

“Why’s it always everyone el—No, no, here. Why not? We’ve got fucking Spiderman in our midst, how much more surreal can this moment get? No. You listen to me, Han—”

“I’ve been listening to you all damn evening and you know what I’m hearing?”

“—I lost my life for this. I lost my home, my aunt, my uncle, my hand—”

“I’m hearing you making this about you.”

“—everything I ever knew, and I tried to make it right, didn’t I? I made the school. I gathered the kids—”

“And it’s not just about you this time, kid. It’s not about you, it’s not about me, or Leia, or Chewie or—”

“—I lost my kid and the love of my life, and I finally get a second chance at finding them and giving them the goddamn happy ending they deserve, and the next thing I know—”

“Luke, you’re the only one,” Han said.

“I WAS NEVER. THE ONLY. ONE, HAN,” Luke roared out of absolutely nowhere, sober as a saint. “I was never the only one. EVER. Ahsoka. Go find her. She’s everything that I’m not and more. She’s the real—”

“Luke.”

“Stop saying that name. I HATE that name. I would do anything for twenty goddamn seconds where I didn’t have to be him.”

“You don’t mean that,” Han said quietly. His shoulders had rounded out and become black and heavy under the weight of their shadow. Luke’s eyes, however, looked like topaz.

“I mean it,” Luke said.

Oho.

So shit had gotten real tense, real fast, so Peter about to make a decision that was gonna make Shelley so proud of him she would weep when he finally slunk back in through her office door.

He was leaving. He was turning around and taking a wee jog. Maybe turning a corner, having a little jump over a fence, up a wall, to a place as far away from this one as superhumanly possible.

Bye, bye.

“This galaxy needs you, Luke.”

Peter stopped five paces away.

“They need you,” Han repeated. “And I need you.”

Peter slowly looked back to see that Luke’s face had twisted sharply out of the light, towards the alley wall.

“I’m sorry that we met again like this,” Han said quietly. “I’m sorry it’s always you. You don’t deserve this. No one deserves this.”

“Shut up,” Luke said.

“But if you don’t do something, then it won’t be just me and you and all these random others sliding back into that cesspit we all barely crawled out of.”

“Stop.”

“You’ll never find him if things go back the way they were.”

“You—you don’t know that. There—maybe—”

“Luke. Listen to me. Please.”

“Maybe there’s a chance—”

“Luke,” Han said reaching out and putting a hand on Luke’s shoulder and clenching it hard enough that Peter should see the bunched fabric, “Do you want Din to live through this shitshow a second time? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

Peter shivered. The pressure at the base of his neck was building. The Spidey Sense wanted to hiss in his ears like white noise. It pinned him where he was, staring over his shoulder at those two solid shapes, one digging a hand into the flesh of the other.

His stomach turned.

Luke said something that Peter couldn’t hear. Han pulled him toward his own body by the grip he had on his shoulder. At first, Luke seemed to stagger, like he was walking on black ice. He stopped a single step away from Han’s body, still with his face angled severely away. Han said something to him.

There was a long pause, then Luke seemed to fall forward. Han caught him and crushed his head into his shoulder, lowering his own until it was almost touching Luke’s ear. They clung to each other.

Luke was crying.

The Spidey Sense started to crackle and pop in Peter’s ears.

“I gotchu, kid,” Han said in a rasp. “I gotchu. We’re gonna get through it.”

Peter blinked once and finally unlocked the muscles in his neck. He wasn’t meant to witness this. He held out a wrist and fired a line.

  --

It was weird.

It was just weird.

Something wasn’t right. And Peter couldn’t make his stomach not writhe about it.

Luke.

Han.

An offhand mention of like, characters. Character names. They were character names. Leia, Chewie.

Peter had heard of people who lived their lives honestly believing that they had been other people—fake people—in past lives, but like, damn man. Why would you put yourself in a position like that were you were moved to actual tears for some elaborate street-drama?

Maybe it had been a joke? That was the only thing he could think it could be. Maybe the universe had gazed upon his hubris at work and gone ‘ah yes, I know what this young man needs: emotional confusion at midnight on a Thursday. That’ll fix him.’

If that was the case, then yeah. Good job, universe. Good job, larpers. Y’all are equally sick.

But if not—and Peter no longer lived in a world where he could rule out any possibilities—then he had just witnessed—Dude, he’d just witnessed—

He couldn’t even think it. It was beyond him. It was so far beyond him that like he might have a real stroke taking the thought seriously.

There was only one person who could hold that kind of information unscathed.

Only one.

  --

PP: Ned. I need you to listen to me and tell me I’m not crazy.

NL: no promises but go on

PP: I think? I just saw? Luke Skywalker? And Han Solo? In an alley behind Kitty’s?????

NL: fascinating

JS: Say more

PP: who let you in here?

JS: you?

PP: SECURITY

NL: Peter say more

PP: I can’t there’s a nerd in here and it’s vibrating at the wrong decibel. SECURITY???

MJ: yeah?

PP: I’m trying to have a breakdown. Can you remove Matchstick please?

MJ: what kind of breakdown

JS: he thinks he met Luke Skywalker

PP: Security has failed me. God?

NL: Peter can you name three things you can see.

PP: I am not manic. I am in touch with reality. I’m just having anxiety because I just fucking saw two people calling each other Luke and Han fighting behind Kitty’s. Like real fighting.

JS: nicknames?

PP: I—

PP: oh my god nicknames

PP: Johnny I’m so sorry I ever doubted you. never leave my side

JS: 😊

MJ: wow that’s cringe. Imagine naming yourself after SW characters

NL: does kitty do a cosplay night now????

PP: idk it was wild. People thought that ‘Han’ was trying to kidnap ‘Luke’ but when I got over there, Luke started flirting with me and then shit got real and they started arguing over like him hating his name and not wanting to do something and losing everything or some shit

NL: that’s a lot. I’m sure it was nothing, though, peter.

PP: yeah it was. My SS has been going nuts ever since I left. You think they bugged me?

JS: yes I will come search your body imminently

MJ: my job storm, back off

JS: after MJ has finished prelim checks, I will then search your body for you out of the kindness of my heart ❤

NL: that’s weird, the SS doesn’t usually freak out about cosplayers

PP: ikr?

NL: lol imagine if they were serious

MJ: don’t say that

JS: well now we have to lean in. thanks ned

JS: they were definitely real. God they were so real. You hear that Fate? You got us. They’re definitely real.

PP: BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE?

MJ: cue breakdown

NL: that would be so fucking funny. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo trying to save the world from the hellscape of nyc. The rats alone would thwart them.

PP: ned I’m freaking out

NL: oh you mean you’re actually freaking out?

PP: deeply

NL: oh shit sorry. I’ll be over, have you slept yet?

PP: NO

MJ: on it

JS: can I join?

NL: no johnny

MJ: no johnny

PP: 😭

JS: one day our love will build a bridge, peter. In the meantime I am stroking your ear comfortingly from midtown

  --

Need and MJ’s weight pinning him to a mattress brought sleep but not necessarily comfort. They both thought that this was a sick joke someone had played on him that was now destroying his psyche. They thought that the couple pointing him back towards the cosplayers had been in on the joke.

Peter would have agreed with them if it wasn’t for the Spidey Sense. Everything else lined up perfectly.

Ned sighed in the morning and told Peter to go talk to Wade.

 --

 Wade’s hallucinations were, by far, more auditory than visual, but he stayed quiet while Peter talked his ear off over the phone in his locked office. He waited until Peter had run out of words to describe the feeling of impending doom and then huffed a bit of a laugh into the receiver.

“Them Star Wars people are unreal, Pete, you know this,” he said. “Look at Ned.”

Ned was perfect.

“Take off those rosy shades, hon. Now, look again.”

Ned had perhaps memorized the entire scripts of the first three movie and 90% of the spaceship names and the jedi lineages.

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

Peter didn’t want to.

“We all gotta do shit we don’t want do.”

Fine.

Ned’s goal in life was to go to his wedding in a stormtrooper suit.

“Keep going.”

Every Lego project they’d built together since 13 years-old had been a Star Wars-related one. When Ned had decided to move out of his parents’ place, he’d shed actual tears over MJ and Peter mutually suggesting that he sell some of his memorabilia.

“Will this delightful buffet before our very eyes, what is the likelihood of your two pals being drunk larpers in too deep to quit?” Wade asked.

73%.

“Uh-huh.”

“Thanks, Wade.”

“No problem. Although, now I gotta see this. You said they were behind Kitty’s? You think I can get a stormtrooper costume in 8 hours?”

“They’re not still gonna be there, Wade,” Peter huffed. “It’s 10 am.”

“You ain’t know that. What if Luke Skywalker’s a useless drunk, huh? You ever think of that?”

No.

“What’d he look like?”

Peter groaned.

“He looked like Luke Skywalker,” he said. “Blond hair, blue eyes—sort of like a chipmunk that forgot its stripes.”

“I’m onto you, Skywalker.”

Peter hung up to Wade’s cackle. He slouched low and tapped his pen against his desk. Then against his fingers.

He stared at the edge of his keyboard.

“What’s the weirdest thing you could imagine, Pete?” he asked himself.

 --

 PP: sam

SC: yeah?

PP: do you like star wars?

SC: nah

PP: you’re perfect

PP: do you believe in past lives?

SC: like spiritually or culturally? I know I was a cult-kid for a min there but before that we were Buddhists and like, past lives are part of the package

PP: that’s cool. What do you think of people being reborn as themselves again like, 500000000 years later? From a galaxy far far away?

SC: I don’t think about those people

PP: okay well, hypothetically. Let’s say that you were going to imagine someone who embodied that whole spirit. Who would it be?

SC: Buddha

PP: not buddha

SC: is this a riddle? Is it Jesus?

PP: THOR. Thank you this has been helpful ily bye

  Mr. Stark asked him over a cup of viciously black coffee why Peter was seeking out the demigod of his present nightmares.

That usually meant that he and Thor had disagreed on basic physics principles again. Peter took that also to mean that the demigod was still in the building. Possibly loose.

“He’s with Banner,” Mr. Stark said scathingly.

“Thanks, you’re amazing,” Peter said as he sailed out of the room.

 --

 Thor was sitting on Dr. Banner’s lab table, despite Dr. Banner telling him to get off no fewer than two times in the five minutes that Peter was in there, schmoozing and making pleasantries. He warmed Thor up to the home-run hit by asking him all about past lives and present lives and what the soul was on Asgard. Thor was only too happy to explain a load of nonsense that made Banner roll his eyes and poke at his muscles with a thermometer.

“So, hypothetically speaking,” Peter drawled in a very casual lean, “With the infinite galaxies and universes, etcetera, there could be one where Star Wars people exist. And so hypothetically, they could get reborn into a universe like ours.”

Thor blinked at him.

“You remember the laser swords?” Dr. Banner deadpanned.

Thor lit up.

“I suppose it’s possible,” he told Peter indulgently. “But if that was the case then it would be a long tragedy, no?”

…yes…

Say more, Thor-man.

“Well,” Thor said with a big, happy smile, “The series of events that unfolded in that story seemed to me to be one of triumph and tragedy. With one would come the other—that’s how these stories work, yes?”

…yes.

“So if Master Luke Skywalker and his companions arrived into our space here, then they must experience the same in order to be themselves,” Thor said, bobbing his head in pity. “Perhaps what would look like a new start for such people would result only in terror and disappointment until the same conclusion was reached.”

Peter felt his own grin twitch.

“So it’s not impossible?” he asked.

Both Thor and Banner looked at him quizzically at the same time.

“Peter?” Dr. Banner asked. “Is this coming from somewhere?”

Peter’s grin twitched so violently, it turned into a grimace that even superstrength would not let him maintain.

“Can I borrow one of you?” he asked.

 --

 Wade was not happy to be met outside of Kitty’s in the middle of the day, especially because his stormtrooper outfit, in his words, ‘did no justice for the size of his balls.’

Peter was ignoring that. He dragged Thor past Wade’s righteous anger until he was standing on the place where the other two had stood the night before. Thor stood there gamely.

“There,” Peter said. “Any like, energy signatures?”

Thor glanced around and shrugged.

Wade scowled at him and hounded him off the spot so that he could stand there instead.

“I feel nothing,” he said, devoid of emotion.

“Same,” Thor said.

Damnit.

“Perhaps you are—”

The Spidey Sense smashed through all of Peter’s sense and screamed at him to get to the street.

Get to the street. Get to the street. Get to the—

There.

Across the way. Chipmunk, no stripes.

That was the guy from the day before. He was on the opposite sidewalk smashed in with the crowd, dragging a hand through his hair and laden with a backpack and two separate totes. He was wearing a strange set of clothes—a mash of casual and formal—and seemed to be in a hurry, the type of hurry that involved pushing past folks at a half-jog and not stopping at streetlights.

“Got ‘im,” Peter hissed.

“No shit?” Wade asked over his shoulder.

Thor made a sound of interest.

“I see him, too,” he said. “What incredible energy, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Wh—

Peter whirled on him.

“Don’t you fucking say that,” he warned. “I’m gonna go distract. You two, on my six.”

 --

 Peter broke four traffic laws on his way around the block. He swung himself around a corner and fucked up the collar on his labcoat and counted to four before stepping out right into ‘Luke’s path.

They collided. Luke stumbled back and dropped one of his totes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Peter blustered. “Are you okay?”

Luke swore and dropped down without answering, collecting the odd ends of metal that had clattered out from his bag and now rolled loose over the pavement. Peter stooped to join, gathering rings and pipes of all sorts of sizes in his hands. Oncoming folks gave them a wide berth.

It took a moment for Luke to realize what Peter was doing, but when he did, his shoulders went stiff as a board.

“DON’T TOUCH THOSE,” he snapped, just as Peter made to pick up a little plastic bag with a wad of tissue inside it.

Peter froze.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said.

This time, Luke finally met his eye.

“Oh, Jesus. No. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Luke blustered, “Thank you. I’ll—I’ve got them. Thank you, though. It’s okay.”

He took the metal out of Peter’s hands and stuffed them back into his bag. He snatched the plastic bag before Peter could touch it and put that on top.

“Excuse me,” he said as he stood. “Thanks again.”

And just like that, he hurried off past Peter down the pavement.

Peter watched him go.

“Catch?” Wade asked softly from the corner.

“Negative,” Peter said, reaching into his sleeve and holding up the thin aluminum tube he’d hidden up there by the edge of his shirt-sleeve.

It was shiny and longer than he’d expect for any plumbing project. The inside appeared to be coated with some sort of heavy, non-reactive material, and half of the outside had grooved bands carved into it.

“Someone’s building something,” he said.

“Mid-century sink?” Wade asked, taking the tube.

“Nope,” Peter said.

 --

 NL: That is a lightsaber hilt

NL: where did you get that? It’s like mega accurate. Was it etsy?

PP: I stole it

NL: give it back

PP: I can’t I stole it from Luke Skywalker.

NL: Peter.

NL: we talked about this.

PP: He’s Luke Skywalker. I swear on the grave of my mother

MJ: this is a problem. This is now an intervention.

PP: I will prove it. If he’s Luke Skywalker, then he will do ANYTHING to get this thing back.

NL: and if not?

PP: then I will wait two days before politely tracking down his home address and then I will return it via wall crawling

JS: UM

JS: SORRY

JS: PETER CAN YOU CALL ME?

PP: no

NL: no

MJ: no

JS: are

JS: are you sure??? Because there’s a guy in Reed’s lab right now talking to him and Sue, asking SUPER politely for access to—I shit you not—the crystals we picked up from that space trip the other day???

NL: …

PP: …

MJ: …

PP: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

MJ: fake

NL: no way

PP: WHAT’S HIS NAME, JOHNNY BOY????

JS: I can’t

PP: nope you gotta

JS: I can’t I’m gonna cry I didn’t ask for this

MJ: out with it

NL: please say it’s obi-wan

JS: HHHHHHHHHHH

JS: nope

JS: just a guy named Ben 🙃

PP: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

PP: I told you motherfuckers

JS: right. So like. Awkward. But you uh, know that hilt thing you have?

PP: …is Obi-Wan Kenobi about to beat my ass, Johnny?

 --

 There was something about putting the hilt into the palm of someone more famous than Captain America that made Peter’s knees weak.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker had flirted with him the other night.

It did not help that Luke Skywalker didn’t recognize him as Spiderman.

Nothing helped, really, especially when those big topaz eyes lifted and Peter could see that their rims were red and raw.

“Thanks,” Luke Skywalker—the embodiment of hope itself—said in a soft, defeated rasp.

Every alarm in Peter’s head said to save him. Save him from what? How? Who knew.

Ned and MJ seemed to feel the same way, if the pressure on each of his arms was anything to go by.

“Well, that’s all cleared up, then. Thank you so much for your help; it is deeply appreciated,” a stupidly pleasant gentleman with a perfectly combed beard and lovingly coifed light hair said to the room at large.

Obi-Wan Kenobi—pardon, Ben Kennedi—was far more handsome than any movie could ever dream to make him. What they’d done to him in the 1970s, Peter saw now, was a fucking crime. He watched as this beautiful human being set a warm hand on Luke Skywalker’s—pardon, Luke Naberry’s—shoulder and used it to steer him towards the Baxter Building’s front entrance.

He watched as the two of them, like true Master and Padawan, stepped out onto the landing and opted for the stairs. For one fleeting, unbelievable second, Luke looked back over his shoulder at all of them before taking the next step after his Master.

He was right the other night.

He wasn’t the only jedi. Not anymore.

“So that just happened,” Sue acknowledged for everyone after the door had clicked closed and the sound of footsteps had faded off to nothing.

“I’m going to cry,” Reed announced.

“This is single-handedly the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Ned said.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi walked into our kitchen,” Reed told Sue like she hadn’t been there right next to him.

“The empire is trying to establish itself under our very feet,” Sue said back a little viciously.

“The real empire,” Reed whimpered.

Wait.

No, go back.

“For real?” Peter asked.

Sue and Reed looked back at the rest of them and then exchanged a look.

 --

 Peter was sad now. Depressed and laid out on his side staring back at Valeria’s huge eyes on the floor while Ned and MJ and Johnny asked Reed and Sue two hundred clarifying questions.

Peter didn’t need the specifics. He was thinking back on the conversation that he’d witnessed between Luke and Han Solo—Han Solo who was tall with dark hair and dark eyes and an accent straight out of New Jersey. Solo who had probably been charged with forcing Luke to face the facts in front of all of them because he was the one who Luke trusted most.

But it had shattered them—both of them.

The New Hope had given up everything. He was tired. His heart was torn. He was jaded just like Peter had been that same night. He’d been avoiding the tightrope that Peter had already started crossing, though, probably looking for every possible way to not have to set the first foot on that wobbly line.

He’d walked it before.

Valeria reached out with a chubby, round hand and touched the side of Peter’s face.

“Spiderman,” she said with terrifying understanding, “Someone needs help.”

He wriggled in close enough to bonk heads with her.

“Baby Storm,” he whispered, “I think you’re right.”

  --

MJ thought that Peter needed to leave things alone. She pointed out that he had plenty of problems without getting involved in universe-saving. She gestured to Johnny and volunteered him for the job.

Johnny refused on account of needing to be the prettiest blond in any room. He claimed that if he wasn’t, he had to fight for dominance.

Ned was on the other end of the spectrum. He had 43 reasons why Peter should get involved with things, and 40 of them ended up in the same place which was ‘it would be cool.’

One of Ned’s better reasons, however, involved pointing out that Peter had already stolen half of a lightsaber. He was good and involved now, whether he wanted to be or not. And that was enough for Peter to decide to go on a hunt to give a formal apology.

He recruited Ned to help him locate Luke Skywalker.

That didn’t work.

They tried Luke Naberry.

That didn’t work either.

They ended up going through every possible iteration of every Star Wars name they knew and then filtered out the people who’d been named by exuberant parents and then filtered out anyone who didn’t live in New York and they ended up with fat lot of still nothing.

It was like Luke Skywalker didn’t truly exist in this world.

Until MJ found his Instagram by typing in ‘guys who look weirdly like Luke Skywalker.’

She held the phone aloft in triumph and they all gathered round to gape in awe at her intelligence and research skills.

Luke’s Instagram was nothing but pictures of coffee.

He had one selfie and this selfie was enough to have gotten him onto a BuzzFeed article. In it he was holding—you guessed it—coffee. Iced coffee. One in each hand.

He was shaking them, and one had been labeled with his name—hence the public connection made.

“Someone needs to tell him that coffee is not a food group,” Johnny observed.

“Maybe he works nights,” MJ said.

Ned lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe this is his job,” he said.

There was a pause.

Some snooping revealed that Luke was an honest to god food website editor. He was a cameraman.

Repeat. Luke Skywalker, cameraman. He filmed all the food hosts for his company’s Youtube channel. He edited videos. He more or less blended into the background of everything, while having his finger prints on damn near everything.

This was a man after Peter’s own soul. They were kindred spirits in hidden identities, content creation, and suffering under a boulder of responsibility too great to cope with.

He had to find him now.

And after they had his Instagram it wasn’t too hard. He seemed to hang out in various parts of the Bronx and Peter just so happened to know some folks out that way.

 --

 Louis told Peter that he would never speak to him again if he found, befriended, and then didn’t share Luke Skywalker (the man, the real man, I’m not fucking with you, Louis). But he also recognized a place on Luke’s instagram that he seemed to be working his way through the menu of. He sent along an address and told Peter not to forget his promises.

Angel asked why he was looking for Johnny Storm in the Bronx.

Peter left Louis to rattle sense into her.

He took a walk on Saturday morning. A long walk. A long train ride, then a walk, then a half hour of squinting, and then, lo and behold, he found a blond guy banging his head into the center of an out door metal table across from a woman with heavy braids trailing down the sides of her neck. She was much older than him and drummed white-painted fingernails across her cheek as she thought.

Peter hid and called Ned and MJ for an ID. He peeked the phone’s camera out enough for them to see the other two and then snatched it back.

Ned was about to flip a table.

“That’s clearly Ahsoka Tano,” he said. “She—the braids, dude. Dead give-away. And she put ribbons in them, like what even is discretion?”

Peter didn’t know that person. He continued not to know this person, even as Ned dragged him through a trainwreck of Star Wars lore.

“So she’s a friend,” he said.

“She’s like a jedi, but not like a jedi, she was a jedi, but then she said ‘fuck the order’ and—”

Great. Peter was approaching.

Ned held his face in his hands. MJ told Peter to report back on his findings. Peter ended the call and inched closer, weaving through the crowd and slipping into the coffee joint to see what nonsense they were selling.

It was nonsense with lots of syrup. He could never say no to syrup.

He watched the two outside while waiting for his order. Luke gesticulated to his friend and she spoke, giving reasonable gestures back. He stopped her and dug out his phone and that little plastic baggy full of fluffy material. He answered his phone. His friend took the little bag and held it up to the light.

She frowned at it.

Luke pushed away from the table and walked away to take his call. Peter’s order was called. He grabbed it and swerved out towards the patio.

“Hello,” he said at the edge of Luke and his friend’s table. “Is this seat taken?”

Luke’s friend stared at him.

“It is,” she said. “Move along, hon, you’re ten years too young.”

Wow.

“For your friend?” Peter tried. “Could I leave my number?”

He had this lady’s attention now. She was looking him up and down, appraising. Peter tried not to flex. He stayed cool. Matt-levels of cool. He smiled winningly.

“Alright, why not?” she said, digging through her bag for a receipt and a pen. Peter beamed as he leaned down to scrawl his number down on the back. He got halfway through before he heard a step stop nearby.

“Look alive, kid,” Luke’s friend said. “Hey, Luke, this guy was just—”

“You again?” Luke said.

Peter lifted his head and brows.

“Hi,” he said. “I just wanted to apologize.”

There was a long silence.

Luke’s friend looked between them and then gave Luke a long, judgmental stare.

“You don’t have to,” Luke said. “Thanks, though. How did you find me here?”

Mmm. Beginner’s luck.

“Here,” Peter said, offering his number on the receipt. “If you ever need someone to talk to who gets it.”

Luke’s friend bit her lip and looked away in secondhand embarrassment. Peter ignored her for now.

“Thanks,” Luke said. “You don’t and you won’t. But you’re very pretty.”

Nice.

“You’d be surprised,” Peter told him. “Gimme a text. I’ll leave y’all alone now. Enjoy your coffee.”

He left. But not before hearing, “but that ass, Luke.”

 --

 Ned told him that there was no way that Luke was ever going to text him and he was disappointed in Peter’s hostage-taking skills.

But he was proved wrong two hours later and, for his crimes, had to admit Peter’s brilliance publicly.

 LS: hi sorry. This is Luke. This morning when you stopped by our table, did you happen to see a little plastic bag on it?

 Why yes. The one in Peter’s pocket right now? That bag?

 PP: hi!! I did, actually. You guys aren’t very subtle 😏

LS: it’s not coke

PP: I’m not judging

LS: no, it’s not coke, I swear. It’s something INFINITELY more important. Did you happen to see if it had fallen on the ground?

PP: ah, no, sorry. I didn’t see it

PP: OH NO

PP: oh my god I’m so sorry, I think I took it with me when I accidentally took your friend’s pen.

LS: I

LS: what’s your name?

PP: Peter ❤

LS: Peter, you have a fucking problem

LS: I’m starting to think that you want something from me. And listen, you’re a handsome guy, but I’m not available and my type isn’t kleptomaniac. What do you want for it?

PP: well you got me

PP: to talk

LS: about what?

PP: mostly about why you look like you’re a wet phonebook in a bad gutter

LS: a phonebook???? What era are you even from????

PP: I could say the same to you, sir.

LS: I

LS: wh

LS: alright touche. The point is that I’m not going to talk to you. I just need that bag back. It’s a life and death situation.

PP: what are they? They aren’t coke crystals.

LS: how would you know?

PP: what are you, a cop?

LS: NO. This is going nowhere. What. Do. You. Want?

PP: To. Talk.

LS: I’m not going to talk to you.

PP: then why did you ask me to rescue you?

 He held his breath.

 LS: I didn’t

PP: you did

LS: I didn’t ask you for shit. This is it. What’s your last name.

PP: Man 😊

LS: Man what

PP: That’s my last name.

LS: Peter Man.

PP: oop, nope, sorry. That’s someone else.

LS: …so I’m calling the police, now. That’s what we’re saying?

PP: depends. Do you still need to be rescued?

 Come on, Skywalker. Come on, remember.

 LS: I never asked you to rescue me.

PP: You did. Think back.

LS: I didn’t

LS: I just made a joke to

LS: WHAT AFAJSDFA DTTH E FUCK

 Peter cackled and let himself fall onto his back.

 PP: Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii ❤

LS: YOU’RE

PP: Just your friendly neighborhood guy ❤

LS: YOU

LS: you

PP: me

LS: THAT’s how the storms knew you

PP: yep 💋

LS: I don’t even know what to say

PP: it’s okay, you don’t have to say shit. The main thing I wanted you to know was that I hear you. And if you need it, I’ve got you.

LS: You’re literally trying to rescue me??

PP: it’s my job

LS: IT ISN’T. How have you never been arrested? how did you find me? Did you track my phone? Is it some kind of spider thing???

PP: yes

LS: I am legally obligated to kill you with the force now

PP: harder daddy

LS: ADaaSDASFSDFSdd

LS: oh my god Han is going to lose his gourd

LS: I’m sorry I just I can’t believe you of all people stole my damn hilt

PP: I’ve got……………………..sticky fingers

LS: go die

LS: no I didn’t mean that sorry that’s a thing with me and my sister. I mean, okay. You got me. Hero of NYC.

 Peter’s cheeks were starting to hurt.

 PP: I’ll bring them back to you.

LS: Please do, Ben’s about to have a stroke.

PP: you mean obi-wan?

LS: he’s convinced his cat ate them. There’s a staring contest happening. No one has blinked in two minutes and I don’t want to be here for the internal investigation.

PP: where do you live?

 Luke sent an address. Peter held his phone high and walked it into the living room where Ned was bitchily composing an Instagram post. He and MJ looked up at the same time.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Peter said. “Luke Skywalker and Co. live in a cemetery.”

 --

 It wasn’t a cemetery. It was a funeral home, but close enough.

Luke was waiting outside on the stoop in a cardigan about four sizes too big for him. It was there probably to protect him from the equally large ragdoll cat in his arms.

Peter smiled. Luke stared at him and then shook his head and went through the screen door. Ned gave Peter a biting look.

“Made friends, I see,” he said.

“We’re doin’ great,” Peter told him, hopping up the stairs. “Look at us, totally—”

“Insidious.”

Peter stopped and turned nervously to see through the screen door where Obi-Wan Kenobi had seized both of the cat’s cheeks. Luke continued to hold it with maximum doneness levels.

“Where have you been?” Obi-Wan asked the cat seriously.

“We have guests,” Luke said. “Take your beast.”

Obi-Wan snatched the cat out of Luke’s arms with contempt all over his face.

“You are a villain of the highest order,” he told it.

“Ben. Guests. Please evacuate. I am hosting negotiations,” Luke said.

“We should have named you ‘Sith.’”

“Ben.”

Peter was not going to laugh at Obi-Wan Kenobi. That was too surreal.

“Come in,” Luke said, returning to hold open the screen. “I hope you’re not allergic. There are two of them.”

T-two?

“The other one is Junior.”

Peter stepped over the threshold and found himself in a room that looked like a human birdhouse. It was full of surfaces that were almost completely empty, as though an enrichment object had once lived there but had been removed as punishment. Luke waved Ned and MJ in and accepted their apologies on Peter’s behalf.

Peter ignored them to lock eyes with a creature more stunning than any he had ever encountered. It sat on the kitchen counter by a single clear jar labelled ‘Not Spice.’ It blinked grumpy green eyes.

“Oh, it’s these people again?”

They all looked behind them to see Obi-Wan peering around a doorframe with the first cat draped over his shoulders.

“Kleptomaniac,” Luke said, pointing at Peter. Peter waved.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan said simply. “I will distract Ahsoka.”

He vanished. Luke grimaced after him.

“Let’s go talk in the back,” he said. “There are no bodies, I promise.”

 --

 The funeral home had a little deck and a yard small even for this far out in Queens. It was crammed full of plants that appeared to be in a competition to bloom. Luke invited them to sit and then left to make coffee.

Coffee, yes, how had Peter forgotten.

He peeked over the side of the deck down where there was a large stone set in the center of the garden.

“A seeing stone,” Ned whispered to him.

“Oh, how did you know?”

They all jumped.

Peter swore that Obi-Wan hadn’t opened that sliding door. How had—what—

Ned was at a loss for words in the face of one of his greatest heroes.

“I—uh. M-movie? I mean, sorry. It was in The Mandalorian, second season, with the—”

“Yet more television,” Obi-Wan said derisively.

They all stared.

“Can you teleport?” MJ asked him.

“I thought you were bothering Ahsoka?” Luke asked, from inside. He squeezed past the man and his cat with three glass mugs in hand. He set them down on the little square table off to the side of the desk railing.

“I was, but then I got curious,” Obi-Wan said. “And I lost Junior.”

Luke stared at him.

“I’m going to lock you in the basement,” he said.

“Try, try, and try again,” Obi-Wan told him, petting his beloved cat’s head.

“Do you even know who Spiderman is, old man?”

“More television.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Peter had to keep a conscious watch on his jaw, lest it fall open in the face of the most handsome, clueless man on the planet. He watched as Obi-Wan, disgusted with all this ‘television’ nonsense skulked back off into the guts of the home. Luke shut the door behind him.

“So,” he said, holding out his hand. “We’re talking. Fork ‘em.”

Ah.

Fair was fair.

Peter produced the plastic bag from his pocket and handed it over. There was a shout somewhere inside followed by someone going ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

“Ben keeps our home ghost free. He terrifies all the wannabee haunters,” Luke said simply. “Thank you for these. I imagine it’s somewhat of a shock to learn that it’s all real.”

It was, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing Peter had encountered by far.

“How long have you lived in New York?” he asked conversationally.

Luke gave him a weird brow.

He seemed smaller than before in that enormous cardigan. Certainly smaller than the movies made him seem. His face was a little thinner too, and his lips seemed to slope into an almost permanent pout.

“About twenty years,” he said. “We were born in California, but Anakin moved us here when we were eight.”

Anakin? Like, Darth Vader, Anakin?

“’Luke, I am your father’—yeah, that guy,” Luke said with a scoff. “Except, you know, he ain’t dead. And he’s the only one who can make Ben remember that tea isn’t a meal, so we keep him around for that and to scream back at Leia.”

Peter was already completely lost to the dynamics of this household. It wasn’t like the books and movies—Ned’s twitching for his phone to take notes was proof enough of that.

“That’s awkward,” MJ said. “So did y’all do like, collective counselling for the past life shit?”

Luke deflated and moaned into his hands.

“It’s not past life shit if your damn name is the same,” he said. “It’s complicated.”

It sounded like it.

Imagine growing up with your apparently-Star War-obsessed father and uncle who’d built a home and a business (presumably) around that shit, only to find out later that they’d done it because it was literally their religion.

What a trip.

“When did you find out?” Peter asked gently.

“Oh, you know. Last week,” Luke said with a bitter grin. “Quit my fulltime job. Dumped my ex. Broke my lease and now here I am. Once again. Back at this place.”

“Do you want a hug?” Ned asked into the awkward silence.

“You’re very sweet,” Luke said. “If I touch another human, I will start crying and never stop.”

Yikes.

Barely holdin’ on by a thread there, buddy? How’s the hyperawareness going?

“Why does it matter, is my question. For you, I mean,” Luke said with a suspicious squint. “You fought a goblin guy, didn’t you? With a hover board?”

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, yeah.

Yeah, Peter sure had done that.

“And like, the bird dude? Didn’t you down a plane?”

Perhaps.

But Luke had blown up the Deathstar, no?

“These things are not equivalent,” Luke said flatly. “I joined a rebel alliance. There were loads of us.”

Mmm. Perhaps so.

“God, how old are you even? You look 22.”

Peter gawked.

“I’m 27,” he said.

Luke did a double-take.

“That’s a lie,” he accused. “Tell the truth or be compelled.”

“By the Force?” Ned asked hopefully.

Luke blinked at him. He pointed at the glass sliding door which revealed Obi-Wan holding Junior the cat above his head by the kitchen sink.

“The Force,” he said.

Ned’s face fell.

“Do we not have the Force, here?” he asked.

Luke flinched.

“Listen,” he said abruptly, “We’re workin’ on it. This isn’t our original galaxy. The rules are all different. The only one who’s managed to make even a spark happen is Obi-Wan so far, but as soon as we find Master Yoda, it’s over. We’ll already have won.”

“You lost Yoda,” MJ mused.

Luke stammered and caught himself.

“We lost a lot of people,” he snapped. “It happens when you shift galaxies. Anyways, that’s what the stone is for.”

MJ glanced back at the stone and then leaned her forearms onto the small table.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said. “You jedi folks all popped up over here by some cosmic accident. You don’t have the Force. Most of you don’t even remember who you are. You lost your most experienced Master, and you’re going to fight the Sith?”

Peter stirred his coffee nervously.

Luke’s eye twitched.

“We don’t need the others,” he said. “We only need the Force. To fight the Sith. Yes.”

MJ frowned deep and held her chin with both hands.

“So you need the thing you for sure don’t have the most,” she said.

Luke opened his mouth, but not before the window by the door snapped open and Obi-Wan leaned out to say, “We always have the Force.”

Luke covered his face in despair.

“I was listening from the kitchen window,” Obi-Wan told him lovingly.

“GO FIND CODY ALREADY,” Luke roared at him.

“I did, he’s right here,” Obi-Wan said soothingly, stroking his angry cat.

“The other Cody.”

“Oh, I am trying, don’t you worry.”

“Ben, so help me God—”

“Force.”

“SO HELP ME FORCE—”

Star Wars had really left out the part about Luke’s explosive temper. Peter winced, but Ned laughed and the sound seemed to have a calming effect on Jedi-on-Jedi crime about to take place in the kitchen. Obi-Wan appeared pleased with this development and emboldened. He wove past Luke out onto the desk and came over, cat and all, to point down to the seeing stone in the middle of the garden.

“Others who feel the Force’s energy will be drawn to it,” he told Ned fondly. “It’s how we got Luke back home.”

“It’s not,” Luke said. “You called me.”

“And so others will also come,” Obi-Wan said with confidence. “The most important thing is that we believe in the Force. And from that, we will find guidance and power and—”

“He means Yoda,” Luke translated. “He’s been putting frogs on it as an offering, even though me, Ahsoka, and Anakin told him that this is a human’s world. A human’s world, Ben. Even if he did eat them, he’s not eating them raw.”

“Don’t be discouraged by Luke’s attitude, he is very stressed,” Obi-Wan told Ned and Ned only affectionately. “I told him not to be, you see there are four of us here already, and the Chosen One is among us.”

“Anakin told you to stop calling him that,” Luke moaned, massaging his temples.

“He was the first to be aware of our present situation,” Obi-Wan said.

“He took a hallucinogen and had a paranoid breakdown,” Luke pleaded. “Ben, please. Go inside. Think of your blood pressure.”

“Perhaps, but it was a useful breakdown, was it not?”

“I am so sorry for him, he’s getting senile,” Luke said to the rest of them.

“Your energy is different,” Obi-Wan informed Peter out of absolutely nowhere. “Are you also Force-sensitive? Were you drawn to the stone?”

Er.

No.

Sorry?

“He’s Spiderman,” Luke said, gesturing pointedly. “Remember Spiderman?”

Obi-Wan did not. Peter suspected, actually, that Obi-Wan still used phonebooks, if he used phones at all, that was.

Luke took a deep breath and let it out.

“Okay, let me just lay it out,” he said. “We’re doing the best we can with what we have. You don’t have to get involved with this. We appreciate your help, but what would help us even more is if you stay out of it, alright?”

Yeah, okay. Sure. Peter could respect that.

“Amazing. And don’t tell other people.”

Understood.

“Unless they’re Force-sensitive,” Obi-Wan said. “In which case, ask them how they feel about rocks.”

Luke just stared at him coldly this time.

“You didn’t used to be like this,” he said dangerously.

“No, I used to be stressed,” Obi-Wan told him. “But you and Ani are doing that for me, so I have resolved to be a free spirit. Nice to meet all of you. Have more coffee. I don’t like this one; I will have it out of the house by sundown.”

He left, and possibly for good this time. No one knew what to say in his absence.

“So,” Peter tried, desperate for something to break up the tension. “You said a few days ago that you were looking for someone?”

Luke finally stopped making growling faces towards the sliding door. He lit up like a bulb.

“I am, actually,” he said.

 --

 Luke was looking for a very particular person named ‘Din.’ He described him as ‘six feet tall and covered in armor.’ He asked if they knew of such a person.

Peter had to shove a hand against his mouth in case he made an unwanted connection between this description and Obi-Wan behavior.

“Haven’t,” MJ said. “Who is he?”

“My husband,” Luke said.

Ned choked.

Peter choked.

MJ tilted her head.

“You have a husband?” she asked. “I would have remembered a husband in that series.”

Luke leaned his chin on his palm and gazed sideways over the city. He seemed to sigh.

“I don’t know why he isn’t connected to me in the media created here,” he said. “It’s probably because he’s always been very shy.”

Oh, aw. Peter loved that. The contrast between them was heart-warming.

“We had a son together,” Luke said. “His child. He brought him to me. One of my students, at first.”

Hang on a minute here.

Peter exchanged a glance with Ned. Ned tried very hard to pick a way to approach this sensitively. He landed on asking, “What was his name again?”

“Din,” Luke said. “Din Djarin.”

Ned cringed.

“He was a Mandalorian,” Luke explained. “Very, very, very shy. Like, he would rather chew off his own leg than make small talk with a stranger. I think, before I knew all this, I was still subconsciously looking for him. All my exes are the same type.”

That—

Okay, so like.

Did these people own a TV?

“Do we look like we own a TV?” Luke deadpanned. “No. If Ben senses anything bigger than a datapad happening in this place, he’s driven to madness and breaks it.”

UH?

“He doesn’t actually break it,” Luke sighed. “He just finds a way to make it unusable—putting clothes on it, disconnecting the monitor, that kind of thing. He thinks they waste electricity.”

What a guy. Peter wanted to put him and May in a room and see what conspiracies they could spin together.

“Why do you ask?” Luke asked.

Ned cleared his throat.

“Do you have a, uh, datapad, then?” he asked.

 --

 “DIN. That’s DIN. He’s got his own show. Oh my god, that’s—stay right there. Don’t move.”

Bless this man. Peter wanted to hug him so bad. They’d lost him to the staircase leading up from the second floor to the attic. Peter wondered who he was showing the tablet to.

Maybe Obi-Wan?

“I told you this already,” a voice up there said.

“LOOK AT HIM.”

“You’re killin’ me, smalls. We had this exact conversation last week. Did you forget?”

“You knew where he was.”

“Alright, alright. Downward march.”

Anakin fucking Skywalker came down the stairs with a handful of Luke’s shirt in one hand and the tablet shoved under his other arm. He paused and frowned at the three of them in the kitchen frozen in shock, and then apparently decided that that didn’t matter. He carried on dragging Luke with him towards the kitchen counter. He dropped the tablet onto it and Peter realized that the lower half of his sleeve on that side was empty.

He watched as the guy let go of Luke and chased the not-angry cat off the counter, cursing.

“Alright, this?” he said, tapping on the tablet. “Is the link I put here.” He rapped the same finger on what Peter now saw was a whiteboard covered in rows upon rows of symbols that he’d never seen before.

“Din here? Din here. You see?” Vader told Luke with untold patience.

“I can’t read that,” Luke moaned. “You lied to me.”

“It’s up in the kitchen, Luke.”

“You’re a liar and a cad. Do it in Basic.”

“This is Basic.”

Oh, dear. All that fanfic about Luke meeting Darth Vader and having a breakdown was looking real embarrassed now, wasn’t it?

“If it’s Basic, why can’t I read it?” Luke demanded.

“Because, like I told you last night, the night before, and the night before that,” Vader said painstakingly, “It doesn’t all come back at once. It’s going to take time.”

“We don’t have time,” Luke snapped.

Vader leaned his head back with half-lidded eyes. Luke didn’t look even remotely like his kid, even with him looking all pre-quels-like now.

“We talked about this, too, remember?” Vader asked.

Obviously not. Luke was distressed. He had eyes only for the tablet now.

“No, of course not, silly me,” Vader said. “Why are humans here?”

“Ahsoka went home,” Luke said.

“Thank you, that was not my question.”

“What was your question?”

“Why are non-order humans here?”

“I told you, Ahsoka went—”

“Son, I will kill you if you continue to act like Obi-Wan,” Vader said without missing a beat.

“You can try,” Luke said offhandedly. “But only one of us has two handed grip.”

There was a long stare.

“It’s Obi-Wan,” Vader told him. “Why do we have living guests?”

He gestured back to Peter, Ned, and MJ like they were flies on a set of blinds.

“Oh, because that’s Spiderman and he stole your kyber crystals,” Luke said.

Vader rounded on Peter, and Peter actually felt fear.

Vader blinked once.

“This may as well happen,” he decided somehow placidly. “I’m going back upstairs. Where did your grand-master go?”

“Into the mist,” Luke said. “Can you feel Din?”

“Negative, ghostrider.”

“When the Force chooses you first out of favoritism, can you feel for Din?”

“Ah yes, can I feel for your Force-repellant life partner with all of the Force energy that I do not have? Yes, I sure can.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, primary monstrosity of my loins.”

UM?

This felt a little hostile for Peter’s tastes. Not that it wasn’t earned. Clearly it was earned. It was just horrifying.

“Guests, you are dismissed,” Vader said in their direction. “Unless you’re drawn to the rock outside, in which case, you may stay. Otherwise, do not darken this doorstep again, or else we will leave you with the other dead in the morgue.”

“Thanks for bringing the crystals,” Luke said from behind him. “And for talking. I do feel better, actually.”

 --

 They left the funeral home. Obi-Wan was outside by the mailbox as though waiting for them. Peter wasn’t sure he had any emotional energy left to approach him with.

“Thank you for speaking to Luke,” he said as the three of them attempted to pass unnoticed. “It’s good for him to talk to others his own age.”

Uh-huh. Good night, sir?

“Good night, Peter, Ned, and Michelle.”

They hadn’t given their names.

They definitely hadn’t given their names.

 --

 Ned wasn’t sleeping for two years. He made this clear with a lot of clapping gestures and then rolled around on the floor, talking about all kinds of shit that Peter couldn’t decipher. MJ watched him and flicked her eyes up to Peter with concern on her forehead.

“That family is cinematically dysfunctional,” she said.

Correct.

“They’re barely their own characters.”

Correct.

“What now?”

Peter wasn’t sure. The best he could think of was to just keep an eye on the situation. Maybe check in every couple of weeks?

“If you say so,” MJ said. “I think you made Ned’s life, by the way. Good job.”

 --

 Peter tried checking in every two weeks. It started because he happened to hear of a tunnel collapsing in Queens nearby the funeral home. He texted Luke to ask if he needed a save and all he got back was a ‘well, not anymore.’

After that, Peter kept a close eye on happenstances occurring around the city. There were more than he bargained for. And when he glanced at Luke’s Instagram after the first week after the tunnel collapse, he noted that two of the nails on the hand Luke held his coffee to the camera with had gone completely black.

That was worrying.

Peter was used to be the danger-prone asshole in his friendgroup. He did not like this role-reversal. MJ asked him sarcastically what the problem was.

He texted Luke again.

 PP: how many nails do you have left bro?

LS: we put a hole in one to release the pressure

PP: that don’t sound great bro.

LS: it’s fine. Oh, but good news

PP: oh?

LS: the most predictable thing ever has happened. The Vader has regained force power

PP: that’s worrying

LS: ? why?

PP: won’t he go dark?

LS: ah, no. He fucked up and raised me and Leia with Ben this time after our mom died. He had his chance to go dark and traded it for 8 consecutive hours of sleep instead.

PP: I truly don’t know what to say

LS: It’s fine we did 12 years of family therapy after the accident so we are no longer on the DSS watchlist

PP: I know less what to say

LS: he won’t find din :/

PP: is that your priority right now?

LS: aren’t you supposed to be spiderman or something? Don’t you have chaotic things to say?

PP: you know normally I do, this is literally out of character for me. but I think you also might be absorbing my chaos.

LS: that’s fair. I have that effect on people. Hey, is your buddy Ned available to chat? He knows more than I can remember about my old life. Can I borrow him?

 That sounded like a horrendous decision.

 PP: yeah let me get you his number.

LS: thanksssss

  --

Ned reported a few days later that his services were needed at the funeral home. He was leaving them all now to befriend Luke Skywalker as was his true destiny.

He came back a few hours later and reported that his services had been helpful and he was pleased to say that Darth Vader was now the official herder of ‘wans’ in the house. This included all Obi-Wans and padawans.

He seemed to be the only guy there who could like, retain information given to him for some reason. He accepted this as his lot in life and went around repeating the same things to the others ad nauseum until they finally stuck for them.

Peter wondered if that was his personal hell.

Ned didn’t think so. He thought the guy was pretty chill about it and had probably been doing it for a while now. He did it more for Ahsoka Tano and Luke than he did for Obi-Wan. Although that was probably because Obi-Wan appeared to be on a hunt that made all non-relevant information given to him slip off his back like water.

 --

 Another two weeks. Another text.

 PP: hey luke, I saw you drowning on the news. You okay?

LS: GOD my ex-workplace keeps calling welfare checks on our house. We’ve had more cops here then flies these last few days.

PP: ex-workplace is one way to refer to your old job. Sounds like they cared about you. What did you do?

LS: preschool teacher.

 Peter was going to lose his shit right here on this bed.

 PP: was that your calling?

LS: that was Luke Naberry’s calling. Luke Skywalker’s calling is to make the lightsaber go vrrrrrrm

PP: you honestly terrify me

LS: thanks han says the same thing. OH. HE FOUND CHEWIE.

PP: no shit??

LS: yeah I told Ned, not you. But yeah. He found him lugging boxes for a bodega. And now they both work at the same bodega. Which like, objectively, is a bad thing because Han was a UN translator.

PP: I’m

PP: sorry

PP: what?

LS: I know he was all respectable and shit. It was awful. I can look at him again without feeling like I’ve failed in every part of my life.

PP: dare I ask what your sister does?

LS: lawyer

PP: not senator?

LS: we’re not old enough to be senators.

PP: every moment becomes more concerning than the next. You fascinate me. This is why they put you in like, all the films.

LS: because I’m sexy yeah

PP: that too

LS: not to you. I’m off-limits bub. I’m married.

PP: how’s that going for you?

LS: Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

PP: I see. So no Din yet?

LS: I will find him if it kills me

PP: that’s so romantic. Hey you should watch that series. They gave him a little green yoda in it. Really cute.

LS: that’s my son you piece of shit

 There was no winning here.

 --

 MJ asked him a few weeks later if he was still keeping up with the Jedi drama since the whole city had recently decided that Peter was a snack.

Obviously he hadn’t.

She told him not to worry, Ned had. She told him to talk to Ned, so he went and talked to Ned with a heatpad in one hand and a coldpack in the other.

Ned patted at him sympathetically and informed him that Luke had reunited with the Force. It was going poorly for him, mostly because the Force wasn’t used to people being in touch with it in these parts of the universe. It kept telling each of the jedi that there was a disturbance and then luring them to each other to fight to the death.

Luke described it as the Force-equivalent of an auto-immune disease.  

They’d taken to gathering in the living room of the funeral home to meditate in a circle, as though to calm the Force’s anxiety while scenting each other for protection.

It had a 40% success rate. Everyone was sleeping in locked rooms for the time being, just in case someone got compelled to do something rash.

Peter asked Ned if he’d finally lost his crown as King Chaos of NYC.

Ned patted him on the knee more firmly than before and said that he could regain his crown by introducing a calming element into the jedi household.

Peter had his pride to defend, so he asked what that element ought to be.

  --

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, the leader of all Mandalorians, was bound to have a name that looked nothing like the one they had for him. Luke nearly exploded when Peter approached him to asked him (and his taped fingers) more about who Din Djarin was outside the name.

They proceeded with caution, however. So far, Peter and Ned had discovered only dissonance between Luke’s account of his life partner (his ‘heart, stars, sun, and sand’) and the guy on the screen for the tv show. That was to be expected, given that they had met Luke now and learned of his somewhat explosive personality.

But even still, Luke’s description of Din Djarin as ‘kind, compassionate, tender, shy, emotionally stable, dependable, sweet, caring, and hunky’ seemed slightly biased.

Peter just wanted to know how tall this guy was. Hair color. Eye color. Skin color. Blood type. That kind of shit.

Luke said that Din had brown hair, brown eyes, Type Who Knows What blood, and was about six feet tall. He had no idea how much he weighed. He’d never had need for that information. He knew that Din was human, which was probably helpful in a galaxy far, far away. He knew that he spoke Mando’a as his first language, then Basic, then a whopping fifteen others. And he knew that Din was probably looking after their son.

Vader asked Peter over a mug of coffee (also labeled in the funeral home’s cabinet as ‘not spice.’) if Spidersenses could overcome a dearth of information. It took Peter a few moments to realize that he was sympathizing with him.

“You’re not going to find Din,” Vader told Luke. “You need to look for the kid. You’ll find the kid first, you always have.”

Luke took his coffee and poured it down the drain.

Peter decided that he didn’t want to get in between that burgeoning battle. He told Luke to text him if he remembered anything else.

  --

Wade was pissed that Peter had been meeting and ‘cavorting’ with Luke Skywalker without him. He claimed ownership of the Din Djarin mystery in order to cram himself into Luke’s good graces. But quickly, he ran into the same stumbling blocks as Peter.

Din Djarin was six feet tall with brown eyes and brown hair.

That was what they currently had to go on.

Wade would have torn out his hair if he had any, but he stopped himself and accepted the challenge. Peter watched over his shoulder as he chicken-pecked his way into a list of social security numbers held by the NYC State ID issuing department and started methodically filtering names that did not sound like ‘Din.’

He started broad with all ‘D’s and then narrowed it down further and further and further until he was left with a shitload of Daniels.

He stared at the screen before him and vibrated.

Peter massaged his shoulders before he cracked.

It helped. Wade started filtering by height, then by eye color. Then by hair, and only ended up with several hundred people.

He vibrated again, but this time, Peter couldn’t help him.

He sighed. Wade said that there had to be a better way to do this. He got up.

  --

Wade made about four thousand missing posters with the name Din Djarin on them which he recruited the whole team to plaster up around NYC. This was not a request.

Miles asked him why they were doing this for a tv character and had to be let in on the gig.

He lost his shit.

Louis tried to retain his shit.

Angel still didn’t know how the whole jedi thing worked.

Dave hummed and haw’ed and took his time in calling bullshit. Wade asked him to look deep into his eyes and ask if he was entertaining bullshit that fine evening.

Dave changed his opinion and took a stack.

  --

There was no way that shit was supposed to work. There was just no way. A) because Wade had the worst ideas of all mankind and B) because Peter had the worst luck of all mankind. So the two of them together should have destroyed all the prospects of success for that job.

But instead, while they were hatching a new plot involving setting up a sham sociological study for people who responded to Star Wars names, Wade’s phone went off.

He grabbed it and opened the message and lo and behold right there was a note that read,

“I hope you are not a reporting body because this is going to sound certifiably insane, but I think I might be the guy you’re looking for?”

Wade screamed.

Peter scolded him not to get too excited too soon. They had to see the man first.

Wade texted furiously, asking for a picture and got a message back that said, “please do not dox me.”

They got no answer until Wade promised not to dox the guy.

And then they got an image of a man with brown hair and brown eyes with olive skin. His face was remarkably square. The picture wasn’t just him, though, he had in his arms a little boy with a head covered in tight ringlets. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black and he was maybe two years old.

The caption said, “apologies, my son needed to be in the picture.”

Wade cooed and entered Dad Mode to ask how old the baby was and what he liked to do and Peter lost the fathers to that small talk for a while before Wade oh-so-casually asked, “So you feel like you’re from outer space?”

“It sounds strange,” the guy on the other said wrote back, “But I do. Like every day I wake up and look in the mirror and something is wrong. I feel like I’m always forgetting something when I leave the house. I watched the tv show of the guy who’s name was on your fliers and the kid in it reminds me so much of my son. It’s eerie. They make the same sounds. He made the same sounds before we even watched that show.”

Wade whistled.

“I think this is him, Pete,” he said. “He called Baby Yoda a ‘kid’ not a yoda.”

Peter stared. He hadn’t even caught that. That was smart as hell.

“So what now?” he asked.

Wade sniffed.

“Get Skywalker to send you a selfie,” he said.

  --

PP: Luke are you pretty right now?

LS: My face is intact

PP: take a selfie and send it to me

LS: cannot do that. Face is intact is a baseline situation. Let me find an old one. Oh, they all have my ex in them. This is awkward.

PP: it doesn’t matter I can crop it.

LS: no I have to be cute or I’ll perish hold on

PP: are you sure you’re not Johnny Storm?

LS: yes, he’s got loads of muscles. Sent.

 Selfie acquired.

Luke looked very smiley in it. His eyes were blown out from the lighting, but it showed his sloping smile and his low, back-set dimples. Peter sent it to Wade. Wade sent it to his new friend.

They waited.

They waited five minutes.

Then ten.

Then half an hour.

Then nearly two.

And finally, Wade’s phone rang. He picked it up and set it on speaker so that Peter could hear.

“Hello?” Wade said.

There was a long pause.

“Where did you get that picture?” a low, almost smoky voice demanded on the other side.

“A friend,” Wade said sleazily. “You know him? He’s a cute little thing, ain’t he?”

It took the dude on the other side of the line worryingly long to respond.

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

Wade brought his head down in interest.

“What’re you willing do to?” he asked.

They waited. Peter didn’t know what was taking this guy so long to—

“Anything.”

Ah.

Okay. That.

That sounded about right.

Wade cackled.

“You know his name?” he asked.

“I do,” the man said.

“What’s his name then, pal?” Wade asked.

“It’s none of your fucking business.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Peter clutched the back of the couch. Wade was grinning so hard, Peter could see it through his mask.

“You want him, you need to show me that you know who he is,” Wade said. “I ain’t got ‘im here, but I know where he is. Come on, big boy. Who is he?”

Peter could hear the man take in a deep, shaky breath.

“His name is Luke,” Din fucking Djarin, the Mandalorian himself, said.

  --

Din fucking Djarin’s name at the moment was Danny Jabaran. He stood six feet tall with a medium build and that baby of his in his arms.

He was not afraid of Wade.

He was not afraid of Peter.

The suits didn’t scare him; this man was a space warrior. The leader of the space warriors. Peter was humbled to stand in his presence, old jeans and tattoos and all.

“Vigilantes,” he acknowledged.

“Deadpool,” Wade said, offering a hand. “And this is?”

“Grogu,” Djarin said.

Baby Yoda lifted his big liquid eyes up to Wade and blinked twice. Then he wriggled around and hid in Djarin’s neck. Djarin put a hand on his back and didn’t drop eye contact.

“Tell me everything,” Djarin said.

  --

Ned screamed. Michelle screamed. Peter reminded them that he had neighbors and invited Mr. Mand’alor to sit on the couch for a bit while he called Luke.

Michelle claimed the spot next to Djarin and asked Baby Yoda Grogu for his little hand. He studied her and hid again, making a prolonged sound of distress that Djarin cut off by saying, “Hey. Manners.”

This somehow made baby Grogu turn back to Michelle to stare at her offered hand.

He took it. She shook with him and then took hers away.

Grogu perked up and reached for it again.

“You’re the Mandalorian,” Ned said.  

Djarin looked right at him.

“A Mandalorian,” he corrected.

Ned blinked back tears.

“You’re so cool,” he creaked.

Djarin frowned.

“You...are too?” he tried.

Ned wept into a fist.

Peter left them to call Luke in his bedroom. Luke picked up on the third ring with the start of an ingrained greeting that sounded a whole lot like a customer service recording. He caught himself, though.

“I have someone I’d like you to talk to,” Peter said. “I think you might want to sit down.”

Luke’s unusual quiet on the other side made Peter grin.

“Are you sitting?” he asked.

“I’m sitting.”

“Alright, one moment,” Peter said, walking out into the living room. Djarin had edged far, far away from Ned, as far as he possibly could without being rude. He looked up when Peter came over and sat down on the arm next to him.

“Say hi,” Peter said.

Djarin frowned at him and then the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Peter waited. Djarin lifted his head over to see the phone’s screen.

“Hello?” he tried.

“Din?”

The Spidey Sense crashed through Peter like a tidal wave.

Djarin had gone completely still.

“Din? Is that you? Can you hear me?”

“Shit,” Djarin said, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “Goddamnit. Jesus.”

“DIN.”

“Dank Fucking Farrik.”

“Oh my god.”  

Baby Grogu’s face snapped toward the phone with huge eyes. He grabbed at Djarin’s collar, then his jaw and started bouncing a little in his arms.

“Bu?” he asked.

Djarin couldn’t make himself move.

“Grogu?” Luke asked. “Hey, baby, is that you, bubba?”

Grogu grabbed Djarin’s face urgently, so that he couldn’t hide his raw eyes anymore.

He pointed at the phone.

“Yeah, I hear ‘im, kid,” Djarin said.

“MMMMM. Gib.”

“Ah. That’s not ours. We don’t grab. We ask,” Djarin reminded as Grogu pleaded for the phone. Peter snickered and gave it to him. He just held it, staring.

“Do you wanna see him?” Peter asked. “Luke, can we maybe video chat?”

“Y-yeah,” Luke said. “Hold on. Oh god, my face. Uh, hey Din are you still near-sighted, hon?”

Djarin huffed a laugh that turned into a whole-body tremor.

“I got contacts,” he said a little hysterically.

“You got WHAT?” Luke yipped, “Okay, no. No, I gotta. Be still, this heart. Okay let me just take off the butterflies. On moment, Grogu, Daddy’s just gotta dunk his face in the damn sink.”

MJ bounced her eyebrows at Peter as he gently took the phone back from Grogu and tapped on the camera. He offered it back the kid and received a deep gaze of wonder in return. Djarin turned the screen right-side up in his hands.

Luke finally turned his camera on and revealed himself to be very swollen in the jaw with damp hair and a cut very close to the rim of his left eye.

Grogu screeched.

Luke laughed.

“Look at you,” he said, “I’m gonna cry. Oh my god. Where’re your ears, pal?”

Grogu analyzed this reaction for 2 full seconds and then shoved the camera right into his dad’s forehead. Djarin took it from him and liberated himself so that he could see Luke who was clutching at his face, absolutely already sobbing, bless him.

He looked up to see Grogu and instead got Djarin and finally just broke right in half.

Peter swallowed back the growing lump in his throat. His eyes were starting to warm a little.

Djarin found a watery smile in himself.

“I know you’re not cryin’ because of me,” he said gently.

“Where’s your helmet?” Luke sobbed, wiping viciously at his eyes. “People are watching, you harlot.”

“I know,” Djarin said. “I lost it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Luke.”

“This is all my fault. I should’ve—I should’ve—”

“Luke,” Djarin said again, full of warmth, “You died for us.”

Luke shook harder than ever.

“There is no greater sacrifice a warrior can make,” Djarin told him. “I was honored for you to have made it for me and our son. This has always been the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Luke stammered.

“I missed you,” Djarin said. “Where in God’s name have you been?”

“I was a preschool teacher in the Bronx, man, I dunno what happened,” Luke said tipping his face up to force the tears back in.

“In the Bronx? Where?”

“Uh, off Allerton and Lurting?”

Djarin started shaking with laugher.

“I work off Laconia and Mace,” he said.

“You what?”

“We’ve been blocks apart this whole time.”

Awwwwww.

“I’m going to stab myself,” Luke moaned. “I’m going to stab myself in the arm. I was right there and I sold out for my part-time gig barely weeks ago. Oh my god. I’m going to—move, old man, I’m suffering—Wait. Din, did you find your parents?”

Djarin stood up and held the phone out straight.

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

  --

Look at all these people hugging each other.

Look at them crying all over. There was a baby in there, wailing because he was so happy to be back in the arms of his other dad.

Aww. AWWWW. Peter was getting emotional again, he was going to see himself out.

“Wait. Peter.”

He looked up to find Luke holding a hand to him.

“Thank you,” he said. “You really are a superhero, you know that?”

Yeah.

Sometimes, he did.

 --

 The city had plenty of problems as it was, yeah, more now with a bunch of jedi running around, linking up with each other and spreading memory like mushroom spores. But it didn’t feel that much different.

What it felt like now was Ned showing Grogu how to hold his hand at the seeing stone in the funeral home’s back yard to make the Force happen while Obi-Wan reported cheerfully that the cat perched on it was still not levitating.

It also felt like watching Luke freak out over text to Ned and Michelle about his ex losing their mind at him dumping them after two years to marry this random mechanic within a week of getting together.

Peter got to see this from new angles, too, one of which was the bottom of the funeral home’s attic stairs, which Anakin Skywalker liked to sit on while his grandkids—both Grogu and Han Solo and Leia Organa (pardon, Leia Naberry)’s son—came over to show him things that he was very well aware of. These were stolen from him by Auntie Ahsoka and her friends who Ned knew and Peter did not.

And there was something warming about how even these folks—people from a galaxy far, far away, occasionally needed a Spiderman.

   --

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

Warnings: 18+, explicit, references to past non-con/rape (not between main pairing, not explicit), daddy kink, Peter in lingerie, references to gaslighting and abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit). The warnings are for the story as whole, not for this chapter specifically. I’ll add more in the future, if needed.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

“He can’t do this!” Ned slammed his hands down on the counter between them, as Peter took a swig of the cheap wine he bought with the last ten bucks he had in his wallet. “He isn’t even in all of the videos, at least half of the money is rightfully yours!” He kept going, stating the obvious, but Peter just sighed and shrugged.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Ned, I’m just relaying what he told me: he’s not gonna give me anything. It’s his channel, his equipment, the money from the subscriptions goes straight to his bank account, so it’s his. It’s all his. His words, by the way.” He took another swig of wine straight from the bottle. He had been drinking from a small glass Ned offered him – he wasn’t a pirate – but it soon proved to be too small to quench his pain, so. Yeah. Pirate style it was.

“You have to sue his ass, Peter, he can’t get away with this,” MJ intervened. She was sitting next to him on a stool by the kitchen counter, so he turned to look at her with a deep frown on his face.

“Did you not hear me saying I just spent my last ten dollars on this bottle of wine? I have, like, twenty four cents left in my pocket. And that’s it. I can’t hire a lawyer, I can’t even feed myself right now!” He raised his voice a little, but quickly got himself back under control and apologized. His friends were not to blame for his predicament – they did try to warn him Beck was bad news, he didn’t want to listen. “And you know what? I don’t give a fuck. He can choke on all of it if he wants, the videos, the money, the subscribers, I don’t fucking care.” It wasn’t true, of course. Well, partially. He really didn’t care about the money, videos, subscribers, etc, but he cared about Beck. He would have given everything else up if it meant he could keep him.

Which was stupid of him, of course. But he certainly wasn’t winning any awards for being a great decision maker.

“It’s still not fair. I mean, I knew that guy was sleazy, but you’d think he’d have the decency to at least give you something, you know? You’ve been together for three years, he’s been making money off your ass for almost as long. How could he just fucking kick you out and not give you a single dime? After all the money you’ve made for him? It’s fucking sick, that guy is fucking psychopath if you ask me.” MJ’s face was turning red from anger, which made Peter smile a little. It felt good to know he was loved by someone, even if he hadn’t been the best friend to them for the past few years.

The thought made him close his eyes for a second, guilt creeping over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called either of them – maybe on Ned’s birthday, almost two months earlier. They used to be inseparable, the three of them; the three musketeers, as corny and lame as it sounded. For years, those two were the only family he knew, but when Beck came into his life, everything changed.

Stupid fucking Beck.

Peter used to think of him as his own personal super-hero – it did feel like he had come to save him, after all. They met when he was seventeen, he had been living in foster homes for almost seven years by then, after Ben and May passed away. At the time, he was with his fifth family, and there were so many children in that house, so many of them came and went, that their foster parents didn’t really keep tabs most of the time. It was easy to sneak out, and Peter did, often.

He met Beck on one of his night walks – and their first meeting should have raised all kinds of red flags, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Beck slowed the car next to him, rolled down the window and asked how much Peter charged for a blowjob. Just like that. The teen gasped at first, but when he looked around for a moment, he realized he wasn’t in the most family friendly neighborhood. There were, in fact, some men and women around him who definitely looked like they were there for that, but Peter was in sweats, for crying out loud, and he definitely looked his age – or even younger than that.

His wide eyes must have given him away, because the older man quickly apologized and showed him a charming, white smile. He made up some excuse about mistaking him for someone else and the boy said it was ok. He was going to keep walking when Beck asked what his name was. Then how old he was. Then where he was going, where he ha come from.

Looking back, Peter knew he should have run. He should have left, because there was no excuse for an adult man like him to keep asking a teenager so many questions right after he basically offered him money to suck his dick. But that Peter, that 17-year-old boy, was still a bit too naive. To have such a handsome man showing interest in him – his kind, blue eyes smiling at him, warm and safe – was inebriating. He actually looked at him. And cared. At least Peter thought he did at the time. And he was so lonely back then, even that little bit of attention meant the world to him.

He should have run, but he stayed. Should have run, but got in his car. Should have run, but ended up giving him a clumsy hand job in the backseat, after just a few sweet promises whispered in his eager ears. Beck was so good with words, he could have convinced Peter to jump off a bridge that very same night if he wanted.  

They exchanged phone numbers. For weeks, they texted and called each other, until they could  meet again. By then, he was smitten. At twenty, he could see how innocent he had been, how trusting and open he was with a complete stranger. A 32 year-old stranger, at that. Ned and MJ, his only friends from school, warned him that it wasn’t okay. That it was weird for a man his age to be interested in a teenage boy, but Peter said they were wrong. He said he wasn’t just a regular kid, he had been through stuff they could only imagine. He was mature and experienced, and Beck could see that, which was why he liked him.

Looking back now, it was embarrassing how wrong he was. Beck was an illusionist. Sad thing was everyone could see the trapdoor but him.

“So what are you gonna do now?” MJ asked, fishing another bottle of wine from under the counter and placing it in front of Peter, who almost cried in gratitude.

“You mean besides crying myself to sleep for the next few months?” He wasn’t really joking. The only reason he wasn’t crying right at that moment was because he had spent almost three hours bawling his eyes out on a park bench close to their – well, Beck’s – apartment, hoping against hope that Beck would reconsider and come after him. When it became clear it wasn’t going to happen, he headed to the only place he knew he could find refuge – even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, besides that, obviously.” She opened the wine bottle and before he could take it and drink straight from it, she poured three glasses and Peter sighed, defeated.

“I have no idea.” He answered, only slightly surprised that he actually meant it. He had absolutely no clue what to do. For three years, he hadn’t had to worry about money – or anything, really. Beck took care of everything and he just assumed it would always be like that. That he would always have him by his side to take care of him.

He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to keep doing porn?” Ned asked, a worried expression on his face. Peter remembered he hated the idea when Beck first suggested it, as soon as he turned eighteen.

People are gonna lose it, Beck said. A pretty little twink and a hot daddy? We’re going to be a hit.

And they were. Their first videos blew up quickly, people were either disgusted by the thought of them together – because of the age gap – or completely enthralled. The haters helped them get more views, and Peter soon learned that there really was no such thing as bad publicity. Beck promoted their videos on twitter, where they accumulated thousands of followers. Peter remembered that, back then, many people sent him worried messages, saying he was too young, that Beck was a predator, that he was taking advantage of him.

In retrospect, they might have been right, after all.

He wasn’t too sure about doing porn when they first started, he knew once they released the first video, there was no going back, there was no way they could ever take it down – the internet was forever. Nothing was ever truly deleted. He wanted to be a dad someday, what if his children ever saw those videos in the future? What would have Ben and May thought? What about his parents?

None of this matters, honey, Beck assured him. These kids don’t even exist yet, don’t worry about them. And your relatives, well… They’re gone, sweetie. You can’t really disappoint them anymore.

So Peter did it. And he was terrified at first, he felt so exposed, people all over the world could see him in his most vulnerable moments, all of him, in every position Beck managed to put him in, in any outfit he thought the public might like, in any setting he thought might bring in more viewers, more subscribers, more money.

Soon, just the two of them weren’t enough. Their viewers wanted to see Peter with other people – other daddies –  and Beck saw another opportunity to increase his profit. Peter was strongly against the idea at first, it felt too much like prostitution, which was where he wanted to draw the line, but, again, Beck sweet-talked him into it.

It’s nothing like prostitution, honey, he said. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ll be the one filming and directing, I’ll be the one paying the other actors, all the profits are ours. How is that anything like prostitution? It’s just like what we’ve been doing so far.

So not only there were a bunch of videos of him and Beck out there in the world, there were also lots of videos of him with other men, some of whom were old enough to be his actual dad. There was even one video in particular that he was specially embarrassed by – and sadly enough, that was the most viewed one so far. It was fucking humiliating.

At some point, Peter should have realized it became all about money for Beck – and maybe it had been like that all along, he just hadn’t noticed before. Over the last few months of their relationship, they never had sex just for fun, just for the hell of it. There were always cameras, and lights, and roles to play. Beck never said he loved him anymore. Barely touched him. Barely kissed him. He should have seen it coming. He had been too blind, or just… Didn’t want to see what was happening right before his eyes. He ignored all the signs. The voice in the back of his head telling him something was off.

But anyway, porn. Could he still do it?

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally. He looked at his best friends and sighed with a shrug. “To be honest, it was never something I enjoyed, and I don’t know if I could ever do it without him somehow involved, you know? I did it with him because I felt… Safe? I don’t want to get involved in the actual porn industry, I’ve heard some pretty fucked up stories.” Peter had heard horror stories about other boys in the industry, and even though his own story was no fairy tale, there was nothing so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

“How about Just4Fans?” MJ asked and both Peter and Ned turned to look at her in shock. “What? You guys were pretty popular, right? You won awards and shit, so there must be at least a few hundred people out there who would pay money to see some dirty pictures of you, maybe some short videos. That way you won’t need to go into professional porn and you wouldn’t need a partner, but you could still make decent money. And fast.”

Well, it actually made sense. It wasn’t like there weren’t hundreds of videos of him being fucked raw all over the internet, anyway. A few dirty pictures couldn’t hurt. And besides, it didn’t need to be forever, just until he figured something out.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” he conceded, drinking the last of the wine in his glass. MJ sympathetically filled it up again and he mumbled his thanks.

“What do you think he will do now?” Ned asked carefully, and Peter shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time. There was so much he didn’t know.

“Probably keep shooting videos with his new boy-toy.” He managed to say it with a steady voice, but his eyes burned. He still couldn’t believe how… replaceable Beck thought he was.

When he noticed them interacting online a few months earlier, before the boy was even eighteen, Peter was alarmed, but when he confronted the older man about it, he said he was crazy and seeing things, picking up fights for no reason. He always twisted things in a way that, somehow, Peter was the one apologizing to him in the end.

Months later, just weeks after the kid turned eighteen, there he was – homeless, penniless and lost – meanwhile the other guy was probably getting comfortable in his bed. If Peter didn’t hate the kid, he would pity him. In a few years, he would probably meet the same fate.

“Do you think he would take the videos down if you asked?” Ned asked, and Peter scoffed.

“Yeah, right, those videos will still make him a lot of money monthly, he’d never delete them.” And Peter would have to live with the fact that he would always be just one google search away from complete humiliation and exposure. If he ever tried to get a serious job, those videos would stand in the way. If he ever managed to meet somebody decent and good, those videos would be a testament to what sort of person he was in the past. Fuck, some of them were really fucked up.

“So… Should we create fake twitter accounts to trash talk his short dick or what?” MJ was already grabbing her phone and Peter laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head.

“He’s not worth it. Karma will take care of him, I’m sure.” He drank the last of his wine and whimpered sadly. “So… Can I crash with you guys for a few days? I promise I’m not gonna overstay my welcome! I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the Just4Fans thing works out.”

“Of course you can, nerd, stay as long as you need. We’ve got your back, c’mon.” MJ got up from her stool and gestured for him to do the same. “Do you mind taking the couch?” She asked as she headed to her bedroom in the tiny apartment.

“Not at all,” he answered with a sigh of relief, then went to grab his suitcase by the door. Three years together and that was all he had to show for it. A single suitcase with a few changes of clothes, after being kicked out of the house on a cold February night. His eyes burned but he took a deep breath, blinking them rapidly to avoid the tears.  

“Then make yourself at home. Our casa es su casa.” MJ placed a pillow on the couch and handed him a thick, warm blanket.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Ned clasped him on the shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

“Okay.” He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his crushed chest.

He waited for his friends to go into their respective rooms, waited to hear their quiet snores, before he allowed the tears to run freely down his face, replaying everything Beck said to him when he kicked him out.

Before he knew it, he was a sobbing a little, so he buried his face in the pillow to muffle the noise, as he tried to convince himself that things were going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. But at that moment, that was hard to believe.

[thewriterowl]

Got any uhhh headcanons for a modern day au mafia boss!Din falling in love with mafia boss!Vader’s twink son who has no idea anyone in his family is a gangster???

So Mandalorians are bitter rivals against the Empire. They loathe each other and both just want to take the other out.

The past few years have been interesting with the one dubbed the Emperor was killed off and his right hand took over, it has been a little more quiet...and a little (not much but just a very smudge) not as evil. The movements seem to be a very secretive and quiet and the Mandalorians cannot always figure out what they are doing.

A few years after the man dubbed Vader took over the Mandalorians got a new boss dubbed Mando, showcasing he is seen as the ultimate Mandalorian, and is leading the group (which had been struggling for a while) back into power.

Mando is doing his best to keep his own group's movements hidden. Luckily, they are very good at stealth and assassin work and they bring word to Mando that there is a hidden son who is kept away from the gangster world of his father (his sister, on the other hand, is the one named as the heir) and is just living his life as a pre-school teacher. No one believes it, that just seems impossible that the son of Vader would be just some...teacher.

Din takes on the role to go and try to figure things out and then decides the best way to get information was just to do a very standard practice of seduction. He is going to get things resolved quick (no one knows what he looks like without a helmet he does to protect his identity) and maybe he takes an orphan to enroll in Luke's class and act as his father.

Easy in and out. Maybe a month or two and then the kid and the teacher is out of his life.

Yeah...it doesn't work out.

He gets very attached to the boy acting as his son. And his seduction for Luke is not very...one-sided. At all. Luke just beams at him whenever Din shows up. he acts like this innocent puppy who does have a little bit of a flirting streak and is super interested in Din.

When Din starts sleeping with him, oh no...why does he like this domestic stuff? Why does he like waking up next to Luke? Why does he like tucking Grogu in for bed and taking him to the park? Why does he feel guilty whenever he sneaks around and gets information from Luke?

Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, no.

This is not good. The is very bad. He was going into deep. He needed to stop but he had no idea how. He still need information to protect his family! And leaving Luke or Grogu just...sounded wrong.

He gets a big break when, now saying they were boyfriends, was brought to meet his parents and he sees Vader without his own disguise. He now knows how he looks.

And he now, almost unfortunately, realized that Luke truly didn't know anything about what was happening.

Well, it all hits the fan eventually. And Luke is left horribly betrayed and his heart shattered by both his family and Din and just refuses to see any of them. Because of this things get incredibly tense between Din's and Vader's groups, about to lead to an all out war...but both leaders are very unsure about it at the same time since they were both at fault for Luke's pain.

Leia was the only one Luke would speak to on occasion (they're twins--they can't not talk to each other) and then maybe during a FaceTime or call something bad happens and Leia rushes over only to realize with absolute horror that Luke has been kidnapped.

She tells both her father and Din, knowing neither are responsible for this and everyone is in a terrible scramble to find this missing man.

Din promises Grogu he would find Luke and bring him home (luckily the child was never made away he was originally going to be returned but was now 100% Din's son) and the two sides have to work together to find Luke.

Luke was kidnapped by former loyal members of the Emperor who wanted to kill him to get back at Vader.

Dad!Vader and Din have to work together to rescue him. Luke is left rather injured but is brought back home to heal.

Both Dad!Vader and Din are practically in tears as they beg for forgiveness, not wanting to live without this precious man.

Luke is, of course, very forgiving...but says he will never be with either of them if they hurt each other or other people.

And that is how two scary mafia groups became ONE scary and dangerous group...that do very good things cause they don't want to make Luke cry or leave them.

[lemon-boy-stan]

bts reactions/scenarios - they take care of you when you're drunk (and not dating) these gifs aren’t mine, credits to the owners!

SEOKJIN -

Everyone knew what kind of drunk you were so it shouldn't have been hard for Jin to remember what kind of things you'd get up to; if it weren't for the fact he was more afraid of Jimin knocking up random girls.

Focused on his friend, he let you make your way around the bar, completely unaware of your habits when he heard you screaming.

"You want a go at me?! You want a piece of this sexy ass? Yah? Well, I dare you, please have a go at me! Actually, no, I'm BLACKMAILING YOU! Do you know who I am? You've definetly heard me on the radio, "Seoul's top ten"? Hey! Hey, don't look away, mister... mister Kim Han! Go on, FIGHT ME! Or are you too twink to do it?!"

Seokjin whirled around and made a quick beeline, grabbing your arm. "Oppa!" You shrieked, "he's a assaulting me!" Jin rolled his eyes when you were glaring at the kid - he was barely eighteen and he looked very afraid. "She's really drunk," Jin mouthed to him.

"Come on, Y/N, let's go," it took all his strength to drag you away from the kid's table. Jin made sure to tell Namjoon why he'd ditched but he was positive that he knew why already; drunk Y/N was not something that needed to go on the internet.

"Where are we going?" You giggled, bouncing after him before crying out, "Oppa! Scold the stone, it hurt my little toe!" Jin smiled softly to himself, opened his mouth to say that he wasn't your Oppa, yet, but thought better of it (because he valued his life).

NAMJOON -

Namjoon tucked you in his bed as soon as the eight of you were all upstairs back in the apartment and lied down next to you with a book in his hands, reading, watching you carefully from the corner of his eye, a hot cup of coffee on the side table.

"Hey, Namjoon!" You shrieked, giggling. "Yeah?" He looked over, "you're like, really effing hot." You snickered again but at yourself this time; did you just sensor the word fuck? "You're really effing drunk," Namjoon sighed, trying his best to ignore your words.

He was your best friend and he loved you and now he knew you loved him, too, but he wasn't going to take advantage of you. "You must have a big dick. With all that,,, all that energy! Ha, ha. Big dick ener... ha, ha! Joonie!" You shrieked, grabbing the air, he sighed again and nodded, "I love you, Joonie," you giggled, snuggling into him, "Joonie like the Moonie..." you laughed once more, "I love you to the Joonie Moonie and back..." you sighed happily.

"I wish you really did..." Namjoon sighed.

JIMIN -

Jimin made sure that you were in the front seat with him and that everyone had everything they came with... idiots.

He checked in once and a while to see that you hadn't fallen asleep - because if you fell asleep Jimin would probably have to call the ambulance and then that would start a scene, so.

Hobi and Jungkook were in the boot seats, playing chopsticks with actual chopsticks they stole from the lobby of the bar.

Namjoon was crying and moaning about the pair of airpods he lost, the white screen of his phone reflecting off against the black tinted car window. Yoongi gave all thirty-five of them names and was singing to them goodbye as Namjoon stroked his phone miserably.

Taehyung looked very affronted; a wasted Seokjin was ranting to him about how terrible and how disgraceful Dim Sims were.

Jimin sighed, checking back in on Y/N, who was now currently drooling all over the leather jacket which he admittedly should not have let her use as a "comfy headrest pleaseeeee Oppa pleaseeeee" but she'd called him Oppa even though he wasn't and he supposed his hormones got the better of him.

TAEHYUNG -

Taehyung was walking you home; he did not feel safe leaving you here to wait for him to drive back; knowing your drunken ways you'd probably think he wanted you to chase him and then you'd probably get hit by a car.

So he made sure you followed him on his left side, wishing he had a leash, aish, could you not just walk one way? Did you have to weave in and out of air like you were on a tightrope?

The city had dangerous figures! If he wasn't with you Taehyung was sure that you would probably get abducted or stabbed or something.

YOONGI -

Drunk Y/N was always very erattic, like her ADHD brain but without her meds, she could start catfights just by looking at someone, she could get beaten up just by saying a backhand comment.

Sure, Yoongi loved Y/N's quirky, witty ADHD mind but he didn't like chaperoning her everywhere even though something inside him told him it was for both of their sakes.

So when it came to Y/N and alcohol Yoongi was a very strict person, his sense of fun easily deflated. He'd go as far as locking her up in a room.

Sometimes she'd sneak three more shots thinking he didn't know and he'd sigh, rolling his eyes because he didn't want her to walk off on him.

JUNGKOOK -

If he had his way, Jungkook wouldn't even take you drinking in the first place.

He would've done whatever it takes to keep you at home while the others were out, but apparently Namjoon didn't count his vote.

And now here you were, at a bar, hooking your legs around some random guy. Jungkook saw your neon pink hair a mile away, sighing, he ran up and pulled you back down, "hey! You already have a boyfriend. Me."

"Oh, Jungkookie! I forgot you were here! Oh, sorry..."  Jungkook sighed, pulling you far away from the guy (who looked vaguely annoyed that he'd interrupted before you could do anything.

a/n: yeah, I know they're dating in this one, I just couldn't think of anything else sorry

HOBI -

Who was worse drunk, you or Hoseok? No-one knew. One time the rest of the guys had a very loud debate about it.

Drunk Hobi was just Hobi on steroids, he was way more shrill and annoying. Drunk Y/N was just as bad; but depressed, and would sob at the littlest things.

You and Ho-Seok had never liked each other, the way he got on your nerves set you off.... So when Jimin ran to get Hobi because you were crying you nearly puked from disgust.

That was, of course, until he comforted you and got you sober again, making your respect for him go to 💯

BTS MASTERLIST - REQUESTS OPEN

[transsexualhamlet]

Fyodor for the character thing!!

hell ye!!

Favorite thing about them: I just. Love his vibe so much. I love how he can be the most deadly man ever, be so gaslight girlboss gmanipulate and still be so physically weak and awkward in any social situation. He's just a fucking sewer rat sitting there prettily plotting genocide but he wouldn't be able to tell a waiter they got his order wrong and i love him so much

Least favorite thing about them: How could you ask me this. If I had to choose something it would be that his stupid cloak has buttons but no sleeves if u buttoned him up he would be a fucking burrito I love him also he wears hats indoors this is the worst

One thing that bothers me is how they took away his politeness in the anime. Like in the manga he is drawn significantly, idk, cuter? Smaller? I love the anime sexyman version of him too but cmon he was a frail little twink keep him that way ALSO in the manga he said that his hat looked good on dazai but in the anime he was like no fuck you

and when he went into katai's apartment to kill him in the manga he TOOK OFF HIS SHOES FIRST WHY WOULD THEY CHANGE THAT

brotp: hmm, I would love to see fyodor and karma interact more. I think it would be very sweet he would just have a kid following him around going "WOWW" and picking him up when he passes out from no blood

otp: man, how could i pick just one. fyodor has. so many bitches. it is unreal. dazai. nikolai. shibusawa. fucking IVAN sjdjjda

notp: As to like, legal ships, I really haven't seen any that i just Hate. I don't really understand why people sometimes ship him with chuuya, but it's not like I really care.

random headcanon: I literally made up an extensive backstory for fyodor i have So Much about him but one small part of it is i think that his ability is something he had to learn to control. Now, he can kill any living thing that he has decided deserves to die at that moment, but in reality it's just based off his emotions towards something, and it used to happen a lot more frequently. He discovered his ability when he cut himself on a thorn, started crying, and the plant just fucking withered in his hands. A big part of his backstory is him getting distraught and sort of accidentally murdering like 20 people. He learns to control it much better, but mostly by way of Aggressively Repressing his emotions. Now he just like. Decides when he feels things and uses them as a weapon

unpopular opinion: I don't know how unpopular this really is ive actually seen it a few times, but I think fyodor is transfem nonbinary and uses he/she/they because every character i look at too hard Becomes Trans :) i think the dead apple trio is just. murder enbys

songs I associate with them: i also have an Entire Fyodor Playlist however my top few choices for fyodor songs are definitely

-Love Love Love by the mountain goats (aka, one reference to c+p and i go crazy insane but also just, guilty despair in love)

-Great Vacation by dirt poor robins (haha i am so tired let's all become supervillains and end the world because Pain Bad)

-and like. the whole IAMX Volatile Times album. i just. yeah bernadette is on there but god literally all of the songs fit him so well

favorite picture of them:

HE IS SO BEAUTIFUL

[gothbitch2078]

ribbit part 2

(TW bullying homophobia and slight kissing)

You can't believe your crying in a bathroom stall over another girl its getting sad at this point you wipe your tears when you hear a knock on the door “y/n i know your here” oh good it's only tsu “hey tsu im fine just thinking” you say voice cracking, great if she didn't believe you before she definitely doesn't now “y/n can i come in *kero*” you open the stall door to see your best friend “hey tsu” your teary eyes avoiding eye contact “uraraka is looking for you” “oh god i messed up” you look at her “we gotta go to class *kero*” she eventually convinces you to go back to class and guess who was there waiting for you “oh hey y/n your back” uraraka says while walking over to you “hi uraraka” you say still hugging tsu “sorry if i hurt you in any way” uraraka looks at you “ugh i've made her feel bad now am i ever gonna get someone in my life” you think “y/n your dazing again” tsu looks at you again “oh shit sorry heh” you adjust your overly big uniform. You got in on suggestion late in the year Ms Midnight was your moms sister you and Midnight are very close, she did take you in when your parents wouldn't stop and things would get bad she's like a second mother to you it would take a lot to get her on your bad side but since you did come later in the year they didn't have your size uniform it sucks the skirt fits fine but its the shirt that's too big “get in your seat” a blue haired boy starts yelling while doing a weird choppy motion with his hand, you walk over to your seat to avoid talking to the weird blue haired boy when someone you recognize from lunch but doesn't remember his name comes up to you “hi” “uh hi” you say back trying to put in the tone that you don't wanna be talked to “my names denki kaminari and might i say you are awfully pretty” oh god not this again “heh thanks” you continue to walk to your seat and he follows “can i get your number sometime” ugh “look your cute and all but” he cuts you off and grabs his phone “great so you wanna meet up” “denki or whatever your name is” “its denki” he cuts off once again “can i finish please” you say getting a little aggravated “yeah sorry continue” he says putting his phone in his pocket “your cute and all and i appreciate the compliments but i'm not into guys so apologies” you say and walk to your seat you hear a guy laughing in Denkis direction from the hall you look over and sees oh god its Monoma sadly its one of the only people you know the name of “wow kaminari you got rejected let alone you got rejected by a twink” and he does his weird laugh thing “oh god im gonna regret this” you say mumbling to your self and walking over to denki and grabs his phone and makes sure monoma sees when you put your number in denkis phone and kisses denki on the cheek “call me later oh and hey monoma it takes a twink to know a twink” you say in your flirtest tone and walks over to your desk you hear the class start freaking out when you did that and you look over to see monoma pissed and walking away angrily, a pink haired girl runs up to you “what you did was amazing you stood up for kaminari” “heh yeah well theres two things i hate most in this world and its bullys and homophobics so monoma is top teer on my fuck you list” the pink haired girl starts laughing “im mina ashido whats your name” “im y/n nice to meet you ashido” she says happily “you should meet my friends youd definetly fit in” she grabs your hand, here we go again

[jiminsfault]

❥ pairing: Jungkook x reader

❥ genre: non-idol!au, nc17 / fluff, the tiniest amount of smut, a bit of crack, romance

❥ word count: 7.5k

❥ summary: Jimin wanted to play matchmaker and you fell right into his love trap.

❥ warnings: a lot of sexual comments, Reader has a fixation on hygiene?, Jimin is gay, side Yoonmin (it’s not really much but present), sexual tension, Jungkook probably has a Noona kink, use of korean honorifics (only a bit), Reader is super awkward, Jungkook is gonna steal your heart, more sexual tension, Jungkook knows tiktok, making out, kisses, it gets heated a bit, a lot of love, shy boy!Jungkook, more love

❥ thank you for this great header heathy! @shadowsremedy​ uwu

“Hey, uhm. Could you…,” Jimin started his sentence next to you, lying on your couch, “would you go on a date with me?”

You just sipped on your glass of coke, hearing this, you almost spat it out. With wide eyes you turned towards him and couldn’t keep your mouth closed, once you gulped the drink down. “No?” He asked, seeing your reaction. His tone was questioning and he had eyes just as big as you had.

“No. What the fuck, Jimin? Why would I go on a date with you? Like, ever,” you rolled your eyes, looking at him with disgust. Not to misunderstand, Jimin was handsome and funny, always there for you when you needed him. He encouraged you to go out and meet people and sat through movies with you, when you needed to cry about the boy who broke your heart.

But that’s exactly why you wouldn’t ever go on a date with him. Jimin was your best friend ever since high school, when he sat down next to you, a new student from Busan and just moved to seoul. He didn’t know anybody but when he sat down next to you, you smiled at him and explained to him what the class was about. Ever since then, you both were like paper and glue, sticking together for whatever troubles you had. You know too much about the guy, couldn’t ever see him in a romantic way. Plus, he’s gay, so.

Jimin rolled his eyes, too, sitting up and throwing all the crumbs from his chips onto your couch. He’s going to be cleaning this. “No you dummy, not like that. Just accompany me out with two guys and-”

“I will not have a foursome with you and some random dudes you found on Grindr!” You screeched, holding your pointer finger up and successfully stopping him from speaking.

“Can you shut up for a second? I don’t ever wanna see you when you get down and dirty with someone. You can keep that for yourself, I already had to find your vibrator,” shaking his head, he shuddered at the memory, “that was enough trauma.”

“I’m trying to tell you, it’s kind of like a double date. Except, the two dudes don’t know that yet. I really wanna fuck this one guy but he didn’t get the memo so he invited his friend when I said we could meet up sometime.” Another eye roll while he threw a chip up in the air and caught it with his mouth. He continued to speak, while chewing, making you cringe at his disgusting behavior. “His name’s Jungkook, the friend of his. You’re gonna come with and distract him from me and my snack. I just want some alone time to make him my sl-”

You held your hand up again, looking away. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say. “Fine, okay. If I come along, what’s in it for me? I have to spend my evening with some rando, getting him away from his friend? What if that dude doesn’t want to be alone with you?” Your face gave your doubt away, looking Jimin up and down.

“That’s the thing, Y/N. He doesn’t know that he wants to be alone with me yet. After that evening, when he realized what good of a catch I am, he definitely won’t get enough of some good alone time.” You scoffed, when he wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Reaching forward, you snatched the bag of chips from him and ate some yourself. “And what’s in it for you, my sweet darling? Jungkook’s fucking hot, too. I’d want to bite his ass, but he’s straight as an arrow.”

He fake pouted, shortly after his devilish smirk came out because he could tell that you were considering it. “Do you have a picture? I’m not gonna let you trick me like last time,” the trust you once had in him to hook you up with someone was long gone after he told you he’d found the man of your dreams, until the guy turned out to look like he drank beer for fifty years and hadn’t showered for much longer.

“No, but I can describe him?” You tsked, standing up from the couch and going to the bathroom. Jimin could lie to you all he wants, you’re not gonna waste your time with this. “C’mon! Help me get some ass! Please!”

You snickered as he wailed in the living room, already having decided to help your friend out a little. But he didn’t need to know that just yet, teasing Jimin was too much fun.

“So you’re sure this guy won’t be a creep?” You checked back in with Jimin for the nth time. He could never be trusted when he was trying to get into some dude’s pants.

“Yes, Y/N. I’m a hundred percent sure and if I’m lying, you can absolutely cut off my balls and serve them for breakfast, yeah?” It was laced with humor and he side eyed you from the passenger's seat in your car. Breathing out, heavy with annoyance, you nodded.

This couldn’t be the worst, you supposed. “What happens if you and your twinky hit off and y’all wanna leave? Am I supposed to stay with this Jungkook guy?” 

“He’s not a twink, Y/N. You’ll see, Yoongi is really nice!” His voice reached high ends and you scrunched up your nose. Even though you dressed up in a deep blue dress that was bordering on mid thigh, with your favorite heels, comfortable but still chic, you were full of doubts. Yes, a movie with Jimin and additional possible friends would be nice, but the risk of an unhygienic or rude date is still present.

“I can smell your worries,” Jimin said. You looked at him quickly and saw that he was watching you intently. “Jungkook really is a nice guy. He’s younger than you but he got his manners. And he’s a smart one,” he went on about your date for the rest of the way to the cinema and once you parked the car, he finally stopped talking.

“If you’re lying, prepare your balls,” you threatened, looking at him with sharp eyes. He nodded with a smirk and jumped out of your car.

You followed him, linking your arm with his after he waited for you and together you walked towards the entrance of the cinema. Inside, the entrance hall was bustling with people buying tickets and snacks, walking to the assigned rooms to watch movies. Children were running around and groups of teenagers filled the ticket box office.

Jimin already went to complain about how long they’d have to wait but then a guy approached. He had black hair, was about the same size as Jimin but had a bit of a smaller frame. His face was feline like and he seemed to know exactly who to talk to. “Jimin?” His voice sounded when he was only a few steps away and with a happy noise, your friend let go of your arm and fell into the arms of the man.

“Yoongi! How are you, where’s Jungkook?” He blabbered quickly, laying his arm around this Yoongi’s shoulders. Now that you thought about it, you never asked how Jimin met this guy. When they were closer to you, you smiled at Yoongi and introduced yourself. He seemed a bit shy, shrinking into Jimin’s frame when he greeted you. It was cute and suddenly you knew exactly why Jimin was so keen on meeting him. 

“Jungkook is getting us popcorn, one sweet, one salty because we didn’t know what you guys preferred. Also drinks, I hope coke is fine?”

Jimin and you both agreed and once the both of them started conversation, you started to look around more. They seemed to get along well, why were you even here? And where is this Jungkook? The snack checkout was still full with people and considering the lack of knowledge you had about his looks except ‘he’s handsome’, your searching was hopeless.

You decided to grab your phone out of your small purse, checking the time only to see that the movie should start in about ten minutes. “Guys, why don’t we buy the tickets? We’ll miss the start if we wait longer,” you trailed while you still looked at your phone, overlooking the messages a group chat sent.

“Already taken care of,” a smooth voice announced from behind you. It caught you off guard, so you shrieked a bit and clutched your hands to your chest. A giggle was heard and shortly after, the person to the voice stood next to you, hands full with popcorn and drinks. The two men across you, still in conversation, took a drink each, Jimin holding a popcorn bag as well. “You must be Y/N, yeah? I’m Jungkook,” he said. Once you finally looked at his face, he was quite tall so you had to look high up, you saw a very handsome face.

He had perky and cute lips that seemed strawberry pink, a small mole underneath and his smile was cheeky and adorable. With his smile came bunched up cheeks and his eyes seemed to carry his happiness. The light brown hair was partly over his forehead, a small gap let you see a bit of his eyebrows, strong and dark. His frame was wide, muscly it seemed. He was wearing a jeans jacket with a white shirt underneath and ripped pants that hugged his wonderfully thick thighs. Was he a god or something?

Everyone noticed your quietness and to cover the awkward pause in conversation, Jimin laughed and went in to hug Jungkook. “Nice to see you! Yoongi told me a bunch about you. This here is Y/N, she can be a bit shy around new people,” he made show to hold your shoulders and make you look at him. Your cheeks glowed up with heat and an embarrassed laugh made it out from between your lips.

“It’s fine, I’m sure we can get used to each other inside,” Jungkook said with a friendly tone and you were glad that this was all that was needed for the small group to get moving. Jimin trailed in front with an arm draped around Yoongi’s waist and he looked back to wink at you. “C’mon, don’t wanna miss the ads, huh?”

This Jungkook really had an effect on you like no one else did. For god’s sake, you were older than this guy and you acted like a schoolgirl. Get a grip, Y/N!

With a heavy intake of breath, packing your phone back into your purse, you walked towards the three that were already a bit up the stairs. Arriving next to your date for the evening, you looked at his side profile. “Should I take something from that?” Pointing to the drinks and the bag of popcorn in his arms, you kept looking at him, between glancing down to make sure you didn’t miss the final step and walked behind Jimin and Yoongi. Did they even know which room the movie was playing?

“I got it, thanks,” he said, smiling down at you. Pressing your lips together, you nodded. “You’re a year older than me, right?” His question confused you a bit, after not much conversation he brought up age in an awfully weird way.

“Uhm… yeah, I think so? Jimin said I’m older than you, so,” you shrugged your shoulders and looked in front of you, walking through the doors of hall D. You saw your friend and his company walking up towards line 47 and they sat down on seat 4 and 5. “Do I go past them or do we sit here?”

You pointed at the seats 2 and 3 and looked at Jungkook. He scrunched his nose and you could see his eyes smile again. Nodding his head to the seats you were pointing at, he sat down shortly after you did too. He sat next to Yoongi, which made you be the furthest from your friend and slightly on edge. Jimin said he’d be with you until you were comfortable, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to be on your own with Jungkook.

The room was already dimmed down, the ads weren’t playing yet, so it was still relatively bright for a cinema. “Which popcorn do guys have?” Jimin asked from the end of your small row. Jungkook grabbed one popcorn and held it in front of you, looking at you with a grin.

“Find it out?” You gulped, raising your hand to grab the flake, but Jungkook held it closer to your mouth, making you open your mouth and taking it from his fingers with your lips. They touched the tips of his fingers briefly and you felt a spark of warmth in your belly, as well as your face. He still looked at you closely and didn’t waver from your face, meanwhile you looked sideways towards the screen to avoid his eyes. You munched the popped kernel and licked your lips.

“Salt,” you stated, shyly looking at the still smiling man who now nodded. Jimin could’ve just tried his own popcorn to find out that they had the sweet one. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at your lap. Why did he tell you to dress up? Jungkook was only wearing a jeans jacket and Jimin himself wasn’t that dolled up either.

Gnawing on your lip, you blended their voices out, only to be poked at your shoulder. You looked over, noticing that Jungkook probably tried to talk to you. “Is salt fine with you?” You nodded, calming yourself down. Right when he put your drink in front of you to have it, the lights got turned off.

“Oh no, now I can’t see the holder,” you murmured more to yourself. You clumsily tried to place your drink into the round plastic on your seat to your left but almost dropped the cup. Hissing out a curse, you tried again but failed. Suddenly you saw through your peripheral vision that Jungkook moving next to you, leaning across your body and taking your cup from your hold, finding the holder and sitting back into his seat. Stunned, you were glued to your place. Your breath was quick, Jungkook smelled nice and the way he leaned over you and completely covered you made you a bit unconcentrated. The advertisements started blaring out of the speakers but people were still talking, chewing their snacks and slurping their drinks.

“Noona,” Jungkook suddenly murmured right next to your ear. You felt his breath on your cheek and his presence was so hard to ignore. “Are you fine? You seem uncomfortable,” he continued, voice laced with obvious worry.

You looked to your side, making his face out with the light of the screen in front. It was close but he kept his distance once you faced him. “I’m a little nervous,” you whispered honestly. “And I’m overdressed.”

He giggled cutely, looking at the screen for a moment, where a movie trailer was now playing, but turned back to you. “Maybe a bit,” he admitted. He paused, seeming to think about his words. “But you look really pretty, Noona.”

He turned his head slightly to the side and smiled at you, fumbling around with your purse in your lap and avoiding his gaze. The cinema filled even more up and before the advertisements were fully over, there sat a man right in your viewpoint. A very tall man. You huffed, going left and right to see over his head, but to really see something, you’d have to lean over Jungkook. Taking a glance at him, he was casually talking with Yoongi and Jimin, they had picked a conversation up while you were busy. Munching a bit on the popcorn and sipping from his drink, he looked almost cute, wouldn’t he be so attractive that you couldn’t cope. His jeans jacket was still on and he spread his legs, slouching a bit in the seat to get comfortable. You usually hated it when men took up space like this. Jimin constantly did it to get on your nerves and if you would have half a mind, you’d see that he’s doing it tonight as well. Something about the way Jungkook made it look like changed your mind. It was suddenly not as gross, you’d rather get a personal feel for the meaty legs and the man was so attractive, you were sure his body had to be as well.

With a quick look to his side, he noticed you stopped squirming. But when he looked at the head in front of you, he could tell that it still very much blocked your view. Rasping his throat to prepare, he leaned over to you and came close, “do you want us to switch seats? I can probably look over him.” You jumped, slouching into your form and when you looked to your right, you saw that Jungkook was ready to stand up. 

“No, it’s fine,” you whispered, laying a hand on his wrist that was nearest to you. He looked at the contact and you spluttered, realising your touch. He looked up, the dim lighting making it hard to really read his expression. With an audible sigh, he gave up the advance of switching seats, but still wanted to help you.

“Excuse me, Sir?” He leaned forwards a bit. The man in front of you turned over and looked at him, demanding what was the problem. “My girlfriend can’t really see with you in the view, would you mind scooting up the row two seats? It doesn’t seem like more people will come.”

You covered your face, wanting to disappear. Jungkook couldn’t just talk to a stranger like this, calling you his girlfriend. But to your surprise, the man nodded, smiling friendly and saying that he figured it should be alright, switching seats and then checking back that everyone could see. With gaping eyes, you looked to your seat neighbor and shook your head slowly. He grinned at you and leaned back, starting a conversation over how great he is, sarcasm obvious in his tone, but you still agreed wholeheartedly.

The movie started, the lights got even lower and you finally could lean back and relax. Until you realized one crucial thing, Jimin lied to you once again. The little fucker would get some nice bruises once you were done with him, he picked out a horror movie without telling you. In fact, you thought you were here to watch a family friendly animated movie, not something about dead dolls. He probably just wants his twink to be scared and hide in his arms and yet you have to suffer through it.

You tried to hold in your screams and whimpers at the first scary scenes, but Jungkook still noticed the stiffening of your posture and the small shrieks you let out. Without you even really noticing, he pulled you close and whispered in your ear, “you scared?” Nodding, you looked at him with terror in your eyes and he chuckled deep in his chest. You felt it through his jacket, your shoulder at his front. At the opportunity, you looked at the men next to Jungkook. Yoongi was laying in Jimin’s arms, hiding his face in his neck when the screen gave away jump scares and shrill noises.

“You can hold onto me, if it helps?” Jungkook suggested. At this point, you were willing to try anything. So you clutched onto Jungkook’s upper arm, pulling him a bit in front of you to hide behind his shoulder when the music started to build up.

As you left the movie hall, credits rolled and popcorn collected, you staggered out into the light and took in a big breath of air. You survived. Never in your life had you regretted meeting Jimin this much, the guy still had the nerve to laugh at you and mimic your shocked eyes. Yoongi giggled next to him, seemingly more attached than before the movie and you asked yourself if you really were needed to give them privacy.

“I think I’ll go to the bathroom, too. The ride home will be long,” Yoongi trailed, pointing behind him as he started walking backwards. Jimin nodded, waving cutely and turning back to you. Jungkook attended the bathroom as well, which made you wait on them now.

With a cheeky grin, Jimin looked at you expecting. “So? What do you think about Jungkook?” Rolling your eyes, you walked away from him, in search for the nearest chair to sit on. 

“Jimin, I have an assumption and if I’m right about it, I’ll kill you.” The seriousness in your tone made him press his lips together and look at you. “You and Yoongi know each other well enough already, yeah?”

Your friend tried to avoid looking at you, moving from foot to foot and laughing nervously. “Well,” he started, puffing his cheeks with air. “We do know each other, but we don’t fuck! Yet. He never took my flirting seriously, which is why he invited a friend when I asked him out.”

He looked at you with puppy eyes, making you sigh. “But there was more behind me joining tonight, right? This seems like a setup.” Crossing your arms in front of your chest, you looked behind Jimin to see when one of the others came back. Your friend bit his lip, slowly nodding.

“Y/N, I know Jungkook, so I know that he’s such a great guy for you. When Yoongi said he’ll bring a friend, I asked him to bring Jungkook,” he admitted. “Getting you out of your room has been hard enough for a few weeks now, but you rarely meet guys. You always cry about your ex and that you’d never find the right one, so…,” he trailed off.

“So you took it into your own hands and made me come here, dolled up like this? You chose a horror movie, how cliché of you. The seats?” The wild guesses made Jimin squirm, you catching his plan head on and exposing him.

“Give him a chance, Y/N. He saw pictures of you and I told him a bunch, he thinks you’re really cute and Yoongi probably listens to him swoon about you right now! Nobody takes this long for a wee.” You laughed weakly, not knowing what to think of this.

Exhaling, you looked at Jimin for a long, quiet pause. “He’s really cute,” you said with finality. He made a show of fist bumping the air and congratulating himself. “But you can’t just play matchmaker with me.” The guilty look was back on again, puppy eyes and wobbly lip.

“Y/N, but you like him, right? Will you see him again?” He said in his baby voice. You laughed at this, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “No, really, will you?”

You had to think about that. Jungkook was handsome, smelled good, his hair seemed washed. He looks like he’s hygienic and he was really nice to you as well. Funny, in his own way and he helped you out multiple times. He flirted with you, too. It was a good date, after the awkward beginnings you felt comfortable and he was ready to protect you from the scary figures on screen. While contemplating all this, you bit on your lip and looked at your feet, not noticing the arrival of your company.

“I think I will, actually,” you started, raising your head until you saw Yoongi next to Jimin and realized Jungkook’s presence next to you. For the nth time tonight, blush rose to your face and ears, averting your eyes.

Jimin, not getting enough of teasing you tonight, started to smirk at his newest plot against you. “Hey, why don’t I come back to yours?” He turned to Yoongi, wiggling his eyebrows twice and laying his hand on his date’s waist. He made a noise of thinking before checking in with Jungkook, agreeing to Jimin’s suggestion afterwards. With horror in your eyes, you saw Jimin wave at you and Jungkook, faking worry and playing his act of, “I hope it doesn’t bother you to drive with Y/N?”

Watching the two descend down the stairs, heads disappearing, you turned to look at Jungkook, who already watched you. “What do you think you will?” The question seemed like he waited the whole conversation out to ask and you couldn’t keep eye contact with his intense stare on you.

“Ah, just… Jimin asked if I’ll study tonight!” You exclaimed, moving to jump off the chair but Jungkook stood in front of you, blocking the way.

“Did you enjoy tonight enough to meet me again?” He asked, his voice a tone darker than it was before and when you looked up at him, you couldn’t focus on just one feature of his. His broad frame covered you completely once again and his smell invaded your senses. Feeling a bit dizzy, you put your hand on his biceps. He felt your apprehensiveness and held you by your waist to support you.

Being shy about this kind of thing, you looked down and nodded quickly. “Yeah, I…,” you started, looking up again and being assured with the way his eyes didn’t waver from your form, “I’d really like that.” He smiled, nodding slowly and helping you get down from the high chair.

“So, can I ask you for your number, then?” He was blushing a bit himself, touching his ear when he waited for you to tap your digits into his phone. He promised to text you soon, said he couldn’t wait to meet you again and asked you all kinds of questions to find out what date idea you liked most.

In the end, he had a few ideas that he wrote down and said he needed some more time to think about it. You giggled at his cute behavior, asking him to lead the way for his place, once you were in the car. He helped you navigate and thanked you for getting him home, wishing you a good night and a safe drive back to your place. You nodded and reminded him of texting you, hearing a ping only moments after he closed the car door to walk the driveway up.

Checking your phone, you chuckled when you saw a message by an unknown number, ‘how soon can you see me again?’

It turned out to be very soon, actually. Just the next week, Jungkook organized a date for the two of you, keeping it a secret where exactly he’ll be taking you. He told you to wear casual clothing, just a simple outfit and no heels. He teased you to not overdress again and you actually screamed. Getting your point across that it was Jimin’s fault was hard when Jungkook was cocky enough to assume you wanted to lure him in.

But on the same friday, Jungkook picked you up with his truck, greeting you with his bright smile and congratulating you on the fitting clothes. He received your famous eye roll and off you went, onto the road. 

The ride wasn’t long, Jungkook assured you that it’s around the city and that it’ll be fun. You decided to trust him, waiting to arrive wherever he takes you. Talking to him came easy, over the last week you texted a lot and got acquainted enough to be comfortable around him and tell stories to fill the car. His music taste was exceptional and he promised to make you a playlist soon.

When he turned the corner into a parking lot, you looked around. “Where are we?” You asked, confused because there was no obvious sign hung on the house you were in front.

“You’ll see,” he said, smile steady on his face as he left the car and walked towards the house, your steps close behind him. Jungkook rung a bell, next to it was a handwritten name but the door opened quickly, not giving you time to figure the letters out.

“Jungkook,” you said quietly, looking at him from where he stood three stairs above you. He looked down at you with a quizzed face, leaning his head to the side. “This isn’t some spooky stuff, right?” You furrowed your brows as you hesitated.

He let out an airy laugh, “no, don’t worry, Noona.” He winked at you, not very smooth since he ultimately blinked but it was cute, so you let it slide. Just opening your mouth to repeat the response to the title he used, that you had messaged him a few times now, he mocked in a high tone, “it’s just one year!”

You shook your head, following after him as he walked up two floors. “Pottery?” You asked confused once you saw a sign on the door you halted in front of. He didn’t include that in any of the ideas over the last week, so it took you off guard. Not pegging him for the type, you looked at him as he opened the door that was left open by whoever owned this.

“Yeah, pottery. Jimin told me you never tried it, so I figured we could learn something,” he trailed, walking inside the open room where a register stood with a woman behind and a few people walking around. “Hello, I called,” he greeted the woman behind the desk. “Jeon Jungkook?”

The receptionist nodded, making a noise of understanding as she scrolled through the computer in front of her. “Yes, there it is. Room 3, it’s right to the left once you lead the hallway.” He nodded, looking where she pointed and after you greeted the woman yourself, the both of you walked towards where she instructed.

“C’mere, you’re so slow,” Jungkook teased as he looked back at you and stood in the room. You grumbled something about your short legs, he couldn’t hear everything, but laughed his heart out at your grumpy face.

“Do we do this alone? Aren’t we getting instructions on what to do?” You threw into the almost empty room. There were stools and round tables, you figured they were where you could do the pottery. On the side of the room was a table with already made cups and bowls that were drying and next to them sat black plastic boxes. “What’s in these boxes?”

Before he could take a guess, you walked to them and opened one, seeing clay inside. “Ooh, so this,” you grabbed a clump, “is what we use?” He chuckled at your many questions as he sat on one of the stools in front of a table.

“Bring it here and let’s do this,” he grinned. Taking the clump, you dropped it on his table and went back to close the door, figuring that you really wouldn’t have an instructor. You sat down on the other stool, scooting it closer to Jungkook to watch what he was doing. “My knowledge about this is limited to tiktoks and youtube videos, I’m just saying,” he warned, serious look on his face until it cracked.

He dipped his hands in a water bowl that stood next to him on the floor, tapping the chunk of clay and applying pressure. When it worked, both your eyes were wide and you made a sound of amazement. After he made a high pole, he pressed it down and used his thumbs to make a hole and rounded his hands to cup the outside, bringing it into a circled form. “I’m making a cup!!”

You continued watching him for a bit and then decided to get working yourself, getting clay from the boxes and patting the mass, forming it up, pressing down but…, “my clump doesn’t like me.”

You looked over at Jungkook with a pout and presented the flat cake of wet clay, a small dent where your thumbs sat. He giggled, standing up and putting his chair next to yours, much closer than before. “Gimme your hands, let me lead,” he said, holding his hands, that were full of clay, in front of you and waiting for your smaller ones. “Now that I’m thinking of it, we should’ve covered our clothes with something,” he thought out loud. It broke the tension that started to build and let you laugh about him freely.

Now that he leaned over your shoulder and held your hands in his to help you form the clay, it seemed like the spinning mass was playing just a side character. His incredibly good scent rose up to your nose again, filling your thoughts of him and his much bigger frame. The way he leaned over you and you felt his hair tickle your ear, sometimes feeling his cold earring on your cheek when he leaned even more in, was intense for you. Thinking was hard when all your brain could process was him.

Just when he managed to archive the cup form, your thoughts stopped being foggy, brain clearing up a bit. “Look at us, we’re out here making cups! Look at this,” he almost roared, excitement clear. His arms were tight around you and he wiggled you with him, holding your hands in his, all full of clay. You cheered too, trying to turn your head to look at his smile. But suddenly, he seemed even closer, immediately looking into your eyes and you gulped, feeling the heat rise to your neck and face. You stuttered back, making him stand up and removing his arms from around you.

“We should uhm, wash our hands,” you said, stiff and shy. He nodded and added that the hour was almost over and you’d need to be out of the room anyway. “What about our cups?” You asked, puppy eyes on display and almost speaking in a high, watery tone. He chuckled, assuring you that he can get them once they call him. When you left the room, you not only found a washroom but the woman who owned this place. She greeted you and asked if you had a good time, mentioning that they will put your cups out to dry and can either pick them up or come and paint them too. With hopeful eyes you looked up at Jungkook and without even seeing your pleading face, he agreed that you definitely had to paint them.

Once she left to remove your cups from the tables and set them out to dry with small name tags in front of them, you and Jungkook left to wash your hands. The restroom wasn’t gender seperated, since the house was originally meant to be actual living place. So there you stood, both incessantly rubbing your hands to get rid of the clay.

Jungkook got done much quicker than you did, not in the mood to make your skin sensitive so you rubbed carefully along your skin. “I don’t think I can get it off,” you pouted. “My skin will hurt if I scrub them too harshly.”

He took your hands in his and started carefully smoothing off the partially dried clay on your fingers. Once he was sure that your hands were clean again, he turned off the water and dried both your hands with the towel, patting your skin rather than rubbing even more. You held back a coo, finding it incredibly adorable of him to take care of you this way. When he looked up from your hands, your eyes met and the tension from back in the pottery room was building again.

“Y/N, would you hate me if I said that I really want to kiss you right now?” His voice was held quiet, considering that other people could request the washroom as well. You shook your head twice and scooted closer to him. He wore a small smile and reached down, taking one of his hands from your still towel wrapped ones and holding the side of your face and neck with it. His thumb caressed your cheek and he switched from looking into your eyes, down to your lips.

After a final moment of giving you the chance of declining, he closed the distance and kissed you softly. There was barely any pressure for the first few seconds, until he moved back and licked his lips, kissing you again but much more determined.

You reciprocated the kiss immediately, filling all your senses with Jungkook and not getting enough of him. An eager, tiny moan slipped out from your lips when he pulled off for a short moment, turning yours and his own head a bit as not to clash noses. He chuckled breathily into the kiss and let his hand roam to the back of your nape, getting you closer to him. He let go of your hands completely, taking the other one and holding you softly by the waist. He took a step forwards, leading you blindly against the sink and the kiss grew desperate. Your breath turned heavy and you couldn’t hold back from pressing against his lips more. Laying the towel down behind you, you grabbed at Jungkook’s shirt around his waist and held onto him. A whine slipped past you when he tentatively licked against your bottom lip, asking for more but still taking it without thought right after.

You both flinched when somebody knocked against the door, calling, “could this be hurried up a bit?” Jungkook looked at your face with flushed cheeks and swollen lips, eyes wide for a moment before he broke out into his wide smile again. He held your face with one and your hip with the other hand still and leaned a bit back to give you space to breathe.

“We’ll be out in a minute!” He exclaimed loud enough to be heard outside and looked back at you. “You’re okay?” His eyes held something in them but you didn’t have time to analyze it, nodding and turning to hang the towel up where it’s supposed to be. He took your hand in his, surprising you and opening the door. A middle aged white woman stood in front of the door, giving you both a judging look before Jungkook said, “that clay sure is tough to get off, huh?”

After that you left, laughing about the woman’s face and praising each other for the cups you made. Jungkook suggested milkshakes and burgers after you drove for a little and happy with the idea, you agreed.

After the food, not definable if it was more lunch or dinner by the time you were eating, Jungkook dropped you off at your place, wishing you a good almost night and saying that he’ll text you when he’s home. You blushed as you asked him to close his eyes and went in to plant a kiss on his cheek. His eyebrow jumped up at the contact and when he opened his eyes again, he grinned. You waved after you closed his door and turned around to walk into your apartment complex, smiling widely.

“Did you guys fuck tho?” Jimin asked you, hand raised and flopped over when he stood in the doorway with his weight on one leg and his hip popped out. His lips were pursed and he raised his eyebrows in expectation. You laughed lightly, shaking your head.

“No, we just,” you bit your lip, “kissed.” It was clear he didn’t buy it but he let it slide. Nodding multiple times, he walked over to the couch and flopped down.

“So, I assume you fell for my little trap, huh,” he grinned. “I was right about thinking you guys would work out, he’s the right amount of gentleman for you.”

He was right about this, you did enjoy Jungkook’s company and you started regularly texting and meeting up, sometimes just casual without the whole pressure of a date around it. He stole some kisses from time to time, always grinning too cute to get scolded for it and secretly, you loved getting attacked with his smooches when you least expect it.

“When is he gonna ask you out? What’s he waiting for?” Your noisy best friend opened up his snacks, throwing some into his awaiting mouth and chewing obnoxiously. You shrugged your shoulders, walking from the kitchen isle to the couch and joining Jimin.

You snuggled into the couch, next to him, watching a movie, when the door bell ringed. “Did you invite someone?” You looked up at Jimin from where you rested your head on his shoulder. He shook his head, watching you as you got up to see who was at the door.

The peephole revealed that Jungkook was standing in front of your door and you never opened it this quickly. “Gukkie! What are you doing here?” You squealed, falling into his arms. You weren’t expecting him at all, haven’t seen him for a week now and missed him the most. He chuckled, putting his arms around you and kissing your head.

“Had to visit the baby,” he talked into your hair, beaming in the affection. Giggling, you looked up, chin on his chest and grinning. “Hyung?” He asked, wide eyes and pitched voice.

Jimin greeted Jungkook back and they fell into small talk, you taking the opportunity to get some drinks, you and Jungkook’s selfmade cups for each of your drinks and a store bought one for Jimin. 

The cups were painted white by your request and once they dried you and Jungkook were able to paint them as you liked, making it your fourth date at the time. You painted the cups for each other, making it a surprise but both ended up with an equally cute design. Jungkook painted your name in his squiggly handwriting and added a heart next to it, painting a smiley and flowers. On his cup you painted colorful swirls on one side and on the other one you painted two stick figures representing both of you.

Once you sat back on the couch, Jungkook between you and Jimin, the teasing started. “Cute show you guys gave me, is there gonna be more later?” Jimin’s eyes were glinting with mischief.

Instead of laughing like you did, Jungkook slapped Jimin on the back and grinned stiff, “you could also just leave?” They both laughed overly exaggerated at it and slept each others backs, until Jimin took Jungkook’s head underneath his arm and rubbed his hair quickly, creating heat.

“Respect your elders, Jungkook. But you’re right, I should go,” he looked up in thought, “Yoongi is probably missing me,” he swooned. After standing up and pushing Jungkook into the couch one last time, he hugged you and took his leave right after.

Jungkook took a sip of his drink and tsked at how Jimin left his untouched, smiling at his cup like he did every time he was over and you gave it to him.

“Ah, my plan worked well,” Jungkook smirked, placing the beverage back on the table in front of the couch, leaning back into the comfortable pillows and looking at you. “Let’s cuddle, c’mere.” His voice turned soft regarding you, opening his arms and inviting you with a wiggle to his brows.

“Why are you here, Guk?” You murmured after a short moment. He exhaled and sat up a little, rasping his throat.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” he said, very serious but the corner of his mouth moved up on his own. “Can we play Mario Kart?”

You blinked at him, bursting into laughter. “This is a very serious matter, Y/N. ” His face was stern, looking at you with no hint of humor.

“You made Jimin leave so we can play a video game?” The question wasn’t really in need of an answer, but Jungkook nodded anyway.

“You can be Peach and I’ll be Mario,” he said as he stood up and searched the drawers of the TV table for the remotes.

“Why do I have to be Peach? I always play Toad.” At this, Jungkook turned around abruptly and shook his head.

“No, that wouldn’t make sense,” he said. He was confusing you and your face made that clear but he was too busy with checking if the remotes had batteries in them, turning on the console and picking out the game of his desires.

“What are you trying to archive with this?” You giggled. “Why can’t I play my usual character?”

He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes up to think. “Okay, well… let me word it differently.” He walked towards you, still sitting on the couch, and placed the two remotes to his side. Sitting opposite of you with crossed legs, he bit his lip and looked as his fingers as he pulled on his sock. “I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said timidly, looking up at you to catch your reaction.

You smiled, because it’s simply Jungkook. He could always act like the annoyingly confident guy but he’ll never hide how shy he really could be. 

Nodding, you breathed, “yeah,” and squealed when he took you into his lap with a smile. “But can I still be Toad?”

© 2020 @jiminsfault. All rights reserved.