#you might want to figure out how plants work when your entire job is scheduling what plants we plant and when

[catreginae]

I love it when you can tell that a decision maker hasn't actually stepped foot in the relevant buildings to see what they're fucking up.

[skyscrapergods]

i'm working on my own concept for my own mlp fanlore/au and i've been inspired by your take on alicorns to make my own more unique as well. my idea is centric around the concept that alicorns are ponies who acended into what's basically pony elves that get worshiped because of the mysterious way they ascended, but idk how to really make a religion set up that works cohesively with it. i am wondering if you possibly might have some tips and tricks for how to go about my alicorn religions.

The most important thing about religion is that it's made up. If it is based in observable fact, then it's not religion; it's just culture.

Paying taxes and bowing to the king is based on observable orders. Believing that the king has a divine right to be king, or that he has powers/blessings granted to him by birth/status is religion.

In skyscraper gods, things are different because believing something about a god actually has the power to make it true, or at least influence the god's form/powers in an abstract way. My gods are influenced/given power by belief and worship.

In the human world, you can believe whatever you want about any person or god, and that doesn't make it real. If there are gods about, they are unlikely to be controlled by human religion, and definitely aren't spawned by such (or we would have a lot more gods than we do)

In a normal world, religion is not based on observable fact, and it is designed and maintained by the people themselves.

So from my limited understanding of world religions, there are four "needs" that religion is designed to fill: Community, Ritual, Meaning, and Ethics.

I went off the deep end and wrote an essay about my philosophy. Whoops, hope you enjoy:

Community

Humans need community, and many religions involve gathering and doing activities together. This makes religion incredibly important to human social health, as we often fail to fill our need for community because we don't immediately die without it. Under capitalism especially, we are incentivized to ignore as many human needs as possible in order to be productive/survive. Religion makes itself more important than simple survival, and ensures we fill certain needs by promising metaphysical rewards.

Ritual

Ritual is also incredibly important to human health. We thrive when we have a consistent schedule to the day, month, season, and year. It helps us save our brain bandwidth if we already know what basic tasks will happen today. Instead of doing math to figure out optimum times to do so, we socialize, come of age, physically touch, meditate, sing, mourn, plant crops, travel, cook, keep records, hunt, celebrate, and more according to a calendar maintained by religion. These are all important aspects of life that we need to remember to fill, either by logic, community, or religion. Science even backs up the need for ritual, with brain pathways growing best in response to consistent habit-keeping. But brains aren't observable for most people, so we have culture and religion to keep time instead.

Meaning

Meaning is a tricky one. We ended up with brains big enough to wonder why we exist; a burden few animals share. Scientifically, we thrive in environments/jobs/roles where we feel that what we are doing has value. I look at every part of my life and see the value of being a person, observing and changing my environment. Many people on earth aren't sure that's enough, so they invent an unobservable force that assigns value to their lives and actions. Meaning is easiest to keep track of and believe if others share your definition. Culturally, you have a lot in common with your neighbors, you both probably work toward similar goals (housing, stability, connection with others, secular holidays) and are satisfied when those goals are met. Religiously, you have a lot in common with others in your religion (charity, proselytizing, meditation, celebration) and are satisfied when those goals are met. Religion also provides goals for your entire life and community which are helpfully defined for you, whereas you have to come up with that on your own outside of religion. Doing so can be frightening, frustrating, and difficult, so religion is very rewarding and calming.

Ethics

Lastly, there's Ethics. Not all religion deals with ethics, but many major earth faiths do. Humans desperately need to have a code of ethics to be healthy, and society works best when we all agree on some basics. That way when someone violates a law, you don't have to convince everyone around you that what they did was wrong; there's already a standing defined agreement. Ethics is about rewards as well as punishment. For example if you're the first one to read this whole thing I'll draw a pony for you just dm me. Community ethics are decided by those in power, and "those in power" can be: the people themselves via majority rule, chosen representatives, rich aristocracy, respected philosophers, religious appointees, kings and conquerors, holy mystics, sacred texts, etc etc.

Religion comes in with a code of ethics (written by the religiously powerful) and imposes it on its followers. This is useful and generally brings community harmony when they all agree on something. Religions based on ancient texts are tricky, because old, outdated ethics have to be reinterpreted to fit modern landscape. These interpretations split churches and create sub-religions, which mutate into cults, peter off into nothing, or go to war with each other. It's great fun. At the end of the day, having a group of people who agree on right and wrong within their community is the goal. We just got lost on the part that said everyone else in the world has to obey our ethics or else we're blowing up the planet.

...

Aaaanyway, this was about.... my little pony?

Does Religion Affect Gods?

The first thing you must choose is how much the religion is based on fact, and how much is made up. In my world, there's a lot of things that are made up by ponies, that either become true or influence the god's form/powers in some way. Luna used to be silver, but now she is dark blue.

You can do that, or you can be normal about things. Typically, religion does not actually do anything. Gods are gods whether or not they have worshipers. People believe things that gods tell them, and they make up their own lore as well.

What about People? What about this and that and everything?

You need to decide if your alicorns are participants in the religion about them, or just subjects. Do all/some/any of them take their place as religious figures and command the masses? Do they speak ethics? Do they inform ponies of the powers they have? Do ponies make up abilities they think alicorns have? Do they like being worshiped, or is it more like stalking?

Some alicorns may embrace godhood, while others flee from it. The ones that get the most involved will have influence over how the other alicorns are treated.

Is there a standard to which alicorns must live, failing which they can't be "real" alicorns in society's eyes and are thus shunned/killed? Do the alicorns ever give an opinion that is taken way out of proportion and suddenly became a major religious movement? Are marshmallows illegal because one alicorn doesn't like them? Do ponies get prosecuted for stepping on "sacred" flowers which are just regular lilies? Is there taxes/tithing to alicorns? Are alicorns promoted to political office for nothing except their nature?

How do ponies construct their sermons/temples/practices to fulfill the four tenants of religion? Does alicorn worship provide them with Community, Meaning, Ritual, and Ethics?

Do alicorns actually earn any of this? Are they regular guys that just look special? Can they abuse their powers? Can ponies abuse others in their name? Do the alicorns speak to the masses or to religious leaders? Do they have any control over their legacy or is it out of their hooves? Are they in danger of their worshipers deciding they need to be freed from their mortal bodies? Do religious leaders go power crazy and use alicorns to further their agenda? Are their schisms and wars over beliefs? do the alicorns command their followers to fight each other? Do they fight with each other? Does each alicorn have a different following or are they all part of a shared pantheon? Do they respect each others' role within that or struggle for change?

And remember, what is true for one alicorn/church/sect/country may not be true for another. Variety is the key.

It's all About the Questions

The trick to worldbuilding is to ask a lot of questions. You can answer them as you go, having the answers lead to more questions, or you can ask a bunch at once and answer them all later.

Every decision you make has consequences. Big social movements affect the environment, the environment affects food supply, food supply affects social movements. Everything is connected, and religion makes those connections more magical, for better or for worse.

[redpandaramblings]

The Art of Blind Dates. Deku x GN! Reader

This piece was written for @rat-zuki 's the deku agenda escapes no one collab. Happy Birthday to our favorite broccoli.

Content warning- This fic rated PG-13. Aged up characters, Allusions to sexual activity, swearing, gender neutral reader.

“You know, we really have to stop meeting like this.”

You jumped, the spray can you had been using left an unsightly streak of bright red across your masterpiece. You scowled behind your mask as you turned to face the man who had spoken.

“We do. You keep making me mess up my hard work!”

You smirked, pleased with yourself as you saw Deku, the number one pro hero, recoil at the sight of your mask. It had taken a few weeks to convert the All Might mask into an ahegao face, but it was worth it if it horrified your number one pain in the ass. Izuku blinked a few times, sighing and bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was clearly choosing to ignore your choice of disguise.

“I wouldn’t have to mess with your work if you chose to do things that were, you know, actually legal? You’re talented, Brushstroke. You could get paid to do murals or something instead of…” Deku gestured towards your latest creation. You were rather proud of it. It had taken a good amount of planning to manage to paint a fifty foot tall mural of pro hero Dynamight mooning the city with the bold caption ‘The Hero Commision can kiss my ass.’ It would be perfect if not for the red streak from where Deku had startled you. With a contemplative hum you shook your spray can and quickly turned the offending mark into a cartoonish lipstick print. Midoriya sighed heavily. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

“I know.” You grinned behind your mask. The voice distorter you used did nothing to hide your chipper tone. “I also know you like it. And you can’t tell me Dynamight wouldn’t love it. He literally said that on live interview!”

“Yes, but not with his pants down to his knees.”

You bent over, throwing your cans of spray paint and climbing gear into your duffle bag. It wouldn’t do for your nemesis to get his hands on some of the tools you used. Mei’s stamp was all over it.

“Which is such a shame. The man’s got cake for days.” You chuckled as Deku pulled a face.

He observed you, hands on his hips. “And where do you think you’re going?”

“Away, obviously.” You said as you threw the strap of your dufflebag across you.

“And I’m just going to let you go?”

“Oh no. You’re going to chase me like you always do. And I’m going to escape like I always do. And it’s going to drive you crazy because you can’t figure out how I keep doing it.” You began stretching, exaggerating each movement.

“A teleportation quirk isn’t that hard to figure out.” Izuku began stretching as well, rolling his shoulders and popping joints.

“Guess again.” You sing songed, bouncing on your toes.

“Wouldn’t have to guess if you just told me.”

“But that’s no fun. Unfortunately, I do have to be going. Catch you later, hot stuff!” And with a sprint, you raced to the side of the building and jumped off before activating your quirk.

Time slowed around you. It was like you were hovering in the air instead of falling. Freeze Frame was a quirk you had learned to perfect over the years. Between the quirk and the assorted gadgets in your bag and on your person, it was definitely enough to baffle the number one pro hero. Speaking of, you better work quickly before your quirk wore off and splatted you across the sidewalk.

Freeze Frame was named after what your quirk looked like from the outside. It was as if you teleported, or you had frozen time around you for everyone except yourself. In reality, you were a speedster. When your quirk was active, you were able to move at speeds so fast you were undetectable to others, and to you it seemed like everything was paused in time. You probably could have been a phenomenal hero or villain if you wanted. But currently, it was much more fun to thwart a certain green haired man.

With a press of a button, you deployed a grappling hook, snagging it on the building across the alley. You swung over, keeping a countdown in your head. Would you be lucky enough and have time to…? Yes. There! A balcony door was cracked open slightly. You gracefully landed on the balcony and used the door to slip into what appeared to be someone’s bedroom, thankfully unoccupied at the moment. Taking no chances though, you slip into the closet just as the effects of your quirk wear off. The other reason you had never turned to heroism or villainy- no matter how much you trained, you could only keep your quirk activated for ten seconds at a time. It wasn’t a lot. Plus you could only activate your quirk a couple dozen times a day without getting seriously ill. But it still was usually more than enough to be able to give any law enforcement the slip. Just like now.

Deku curses as he runs to the edge of the roof. You’re nowhere to be seen. “Brushstroke! Get back here, you damn brat!” He shouted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. One of these days he was going to figure out your quirk and how to counteract it. And when that day comes he was going to take you over his knee and… No. He shook his head, blushing to clear his thoughts. What to do with you. Well, he wasn’t sure yet. You weren’t a villain, really. More of a public nuisance. The murals you did showed a lot of talent and a good chunk of the population agreed with the social commentary behind them. But that didn’t change that you had painted ten foot tall asscheeks on a building without permission. And, technically, it was within his job description to apprehend you. “Brushstroke!” Deku called again as he made his way down to the ground. There was no sign of you anywhere. Invisibility quirk maybe? Though it would be unusual if you could turn all the stuff you had been wearing and carrying invisible as well.

Meanwhile, as Izuku was getting lost in thought, you were getting naked. You stripped out of your gear and paint covered smock, moving as quickly as you dared while still remaining quiet in your hidden location. Just because the bedroom had been empty doesn’t mean the rest of the place was, after all. You shoved everything into your dufflebag, pulling out a clean set of clothing from a zippered pocket. Getting changed was a simple affair, as was ruffling your hair, messily getting it to look like a different style. One of your favorite tricks happened when you pushed a hidden button on the edge of your duffle bag. The previously dull gray bag quickly morphed into a loud riot of tye dyed color. Chameleon bags, Hatsume called them. Still in a prototype stage, your friend and employer would probably make a mint on them if you put them on the market. After a final brush off and deciding you looked acceptably civilian, you peeked out the closet door. The bedroom was still empty. You crept out slowly. The balcony wasn’t a feasible exit anymore. Not without the gear you had had to store away. You were going to have to sneak out the front door. You activated your quirk, feeling a little queasy at having to use it again so quickly in succession. It was simple to race through the apartment and out into the hall within your short time limit. In fact, with your speed, you were easily able to exit the entire apartment complex. You still had a few seconds to spare when you shot out the door. You grinned at seeing the number one pro hero standing in the middle of the street. You knew you shouldn’t do what you were thinking. Instead you should use your last few spare seconds to put some distance between yourself and the large, green haired man. Instead, you quickly dug around in your bag and found your tube of lipstick. You applied a nice thick coat as you waltzed up to him. With a giggle, you planted a firm smacking kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a clear and perfect lip print. With a grin, you hurried back to the apartment complex. It was easy to make it seem like you were just coming out of the door as time snapped back to its proper speed. You watched, hiding your smirk as you observed the clearly frustrated hero scanning the crowds for any sign of you. His eyes passed right over you, barely giving you a glance. You almost felt hurt that he thought your normal look was that unremarkable. But that was the point, after all. As Deku continued to call out for your pseudonym, you turned and walked away, blending into the crowd. You were almost out of earshot when you heard a loud cursing exclamation that would have been more in character for a certain blond hero. You bite your knuckle to muffle your laughter. Someone had informed Deku of the lipstick mark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sipped from a bottle of water as you watched Mei work her magic. It was strangely relaxing to watch her in her element. Though it seemed chaotic the first few times you had witnessed your friend work, there was a clear method to the madness if you just knew where to look. And you knew exactly where to look now that you had been working with her for the past three years. You were simply listed as one of her assistants. Most days that involved a random jumble of cleaning, paperwork, schedule management, and coffee making. The real reason Hatsume loved having you around however, was days like this.

“Okay! Set!” She chirped happily. “You good to go now?”

You nodded as you slid down, and walked into the testing area. “Remind me what I’m looking for again?”

“Well, obviously the usual. Make sure it’s not lethal, of course. And then I want to make sure the grid is deploying at the right time. Should be about a quarter second after detonation.”

“As long as everything looks good, want me to be full blown dummy this time?”

Hatsume tilted her head, and considered a moment before nodding. “Yeah, should be fine. Have the explosive levels where they should be. If anything messes up it’s going to be the grid deploying too soon or too late and not restraining you right.”

You gave her a thumbs up as you got into position. She counted down, though that didn’t matter much to you, honestly. One of the best perks of your quirk was that it gave you insane reflexes. You waited until the moment you saw the detonation begin to happen and activated your quirk.

As usual, it felt like time slowed to a crawl around you. Hollywood directors would give a kidney to have access to the detailed slow motion you could experience every day for free. You walked around the device, looking it over. It was meant to be a capture aid for pro hero Cellophane, a small explosive that would shoot nets of tape in all directions. It had to be safe and effective. Better to have a few civilians stuck to the walls than to risk letting a villain escape, after all. You peered into the explosion that was slowly rippling outward. Everything looked good so far… Yep, there were the grids starting to deploy. Sure that everything was safe, you deactivated your quirk and instantly were thrown backward and stuck to a padded wall of the testing room.

“Looked great!” You called as Hatsume entered the room. “I think you’ve finally got it!”

While she cheered and began praising her baby for performing so well, you tried wiggling. No luck. You were stuck rather firmly. Apparently she had upped the strength of the adhesive. After a minute, Hatsume finally noticed your struggles.

“Oh good!” She chirped. “Looks like the new formula is holding up nicely. I mean, I still need to test it out against, like strength and fire quirks, but looking good so far.”

“Little help, please?” You ask, giving her a look.

“Maybe in a bit.” She said, turning her back and leaving you there, pinned. “Want to test how long it holds. Besides, I have some questions about your last escapade and how my babies held up.”

You let out a resigned sigh. Of course. Your friend had found out about your after hours hobby about a year and a half ago. Instead of discouraging you, it hadn’t surprised you that much when she blackmailed you. She wouldn’t tell the police or heroes…. If you used some of her experimental babies on your future excursions. You had been dubious. Hatsume’s babies could be a little dangerous in the prototype stage. But it ended up working great! Your pieces went from small tagging jobs to huge fifty foot murals. Though that had caught the attention of a few public figures, including a certain green haired pain in your ass.

“I didn’t use anything directly against Deku this time.” You sighed, going limp to test if the tape would hold your weight. It did. “Grappling hook works great. The painter drones are okay for filling in large areas, but aren’t able to do clean lines well. The gecko boots continue to be amazing, but the gloves need a lot of work. The control for when they release still isn’t great.”

Hatsume nodded, quickly making notes about everything you said. There was a bit of a quick back and forth where she asked questions and you answered. Though ten minutes passed and you were still stuck to the wall. She eventually sets her notes aside and turns to face you fully. “So,” she drawls. “You saw Deku again.”

“I always see Deku nowadays!” You groan. “I swear Mei, if I find out you’re tipping him off or something...”

“Aww, come on! He’s nice! Would you rather be dealing with Dynamight?”

You frowned, not meeting her gaze. “I mean, the variety might be nice?”

“You like that with the help of my babies you’re able to out fox the number one pro hero, admit it!”

“It might be a little satisfying,” you mutter.

“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s hot either! Heard you two get all flirty during chases. The tabloids loved the kiss mark, by the way. Enjoy finally kissing him?”

“Hatsume!” you groan. “Subject change, please! Anything else!”

“Anything?” she grins at you.

“Oh god, I’m going to regret this.”

“It’s not that bad, I promise! Just, would you be interested in a blind date?”

You blink. “A date?”

“Yeah! One of my friends from school has a lot of trouble meeting people organically. You know how the industry is. Ridiculous schedules, maintaining reputation, trying to make sure they like you for you and aren’t just a fan.”

“Yeah… I guess I can understand that.”

“Well, I just think you and him would be a great fit! He’s a huge nerd in a lot of the same ways you are, but a real good guy once you get past the awkward. Plus,” Hatsume dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper “I happen to know for a fact that he’s a fan of Brushstroke’s work.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “You know it’s extortion to try to get me to agree when you have me literally taped to a wall.”

“I know!” Hatsume chirped happily. “So are you going to agree? I made the adhesive pretty strong this time. Who knows how long it would take to wear off on it’s own?”

“Bitch!” You can’t help laughing. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Just get me down from here!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You fidgeted with the ring you were wearing as you stared at the building in front of you. Maybe it wasn’t too late to bail? You don’t know exactly what you had been expecting when Hatsume had told you about the somewhat shy, nerdy man she had set you up with, but you hadn’t expected him to choose the fanciest restaurant in town as your date location. You were wearing your best and still felt underdressed. Well, if the date was a disaster, at least you knew what building you were going to spray paint next. The glistening white exterior would make for a great canvas. You chuckled quietly at your own thoughts.

Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep breath and marched in. You could do this. You were an infamous tagger. You faced off against the number one pro hero regularly. Your day job was working with Hatsume. You’ve got this. With an air of newfound confidence, you gave your name to the maitre d. It was a surprise when you were led through the restaurant to one of their private curtained rooms. This guy you’d been set up with was apparently going all out. Maybe you were going to like him after all, you thought as you were ushered in. Then you looked up.

Fuck.

Standing to greet you with a stupidly flustered look on his damn stupid handsome face was your nemisis. The number one thorn in your proverbial side. The giant broccoli himself.

That BITCH had set you up with Izuku Midoriya!

You froze. In the back of your mind you were aware that your mouth was hanging open. The green haired man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Hi,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his head.

You continued to stare.

He cleared his throat, glancing to the side. “Sorry about the secrecy, but I think it’s understandable.”

You nodded weakly.

Izuku bit his lip. You realized with a start that he might be even more nervous than you are. As much as you planned to murder Hatsume later, this wasn’t Midoriya’s fault. You could get through this date at least. Eat some expensive food, drink the best wines, make some meaningless conversation, say your goodbyes, and then go home to plot the demise of your former best friend. Long, slow painful demise. Good thing about being an artist, you had lots of traps, so clean up should be easy. Looking at the worried expression on Izuku’s face, you realize with a start that you still haven’t actually said anything to him. You open your mouth to offer some sort of generic greeting. But what comes out is-

“I’m going to fucking murder Mei!”

Izuku blinks. Blinks again. Then he starts laughing loudly. He leans one hand on the table as he cackles. You stare before starting to chuckle yourself. Soon you’re both wheezing with laughter. You both slump into your seats, trying to collect yourselves. Midoriya speaks first.

“Yeah, I… I get that. I’d think that’s a common emotion when hanging around Hatsume.”

You can’t help your smile. “Only at least half of the time. But that’s what makes it fun. No one else like her.”

“That’s for sure.” Izuku leaned back in his seat, looking you over like he’s studying you. “So, I suppose we should actually introduce ourselves. I’m Izuku Midoriya. I do hero work.”

You laugh. “Y/N Y/L/N. I work for Mei and freelance art when I can.”

“Art, huh? What kind of stuff do you do?”

You’re briefly interrupted by the arrival of the first course. After the waiter leaves, Deku apologies. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to order for you, but this is one of those places where you pay them and they tell you what you’re going to eat.”

“It’s fine.” You say as you stare at the delicate wisp of some sort of thinly shaved vegetable with a dollop of strangely colored foam on top.

“You were saying what kind of art you do?” Deku cautiously was poking at the tiny fancy appetizer.

“A few different things really, but my passion is mural work. Latest job was in a maid cafe. They wanted something cute and floral, but they let me do what I wanted within that theme.”

The night continued on and was surprisingly easy. The food was delicious, the wine was better, and you were pleasantly surprised by the company. Maybe it was the wine softening you up, but as you looked across the table where Izuku was animatedly talking about how influential All Might’s example had been for him, you admitted to yourself that the green haired man was very handsome. And funny. And interesting. And you were trying very hard not to think about the way Midoriya’s large scarred hand wrapped around the delicate wine glass. It was a surprise when the final course was finished and Izuku was quietly taking care of the bill. He escorted you out of the building and you both stood awkwardly outside. Deku cleared his throat.

“If it’s not presuming too much, I’m not quite ready for tonight to end. Is it alright if I walk you home?”

“I’d like that. Like that a lot, actually.”

He smiled at you, and it was like the sun. You walked and talked animatedly. The conversation was so easy and fun, and a little flirty. Somewhere along the way your hands brushed together and holding hands became the most natural thing in the world. Time flew by as you walked together, your true destination long forgotten. You were only brought back to reality when out of the corner of your eye you saw a massive mural of pro hero asscheeks. When Izuku saw what you were looking at, he groaned.

“Could you please not check out my friend’s ass while we’re on a date?” He joked, gently elbowing your ribs. You laughed.

“I mean, you can’t blame me. It’s hard to miss.” You made a mental note to tell Mei that her paint formula was holding up beautifully.

“It’s a little embarrassing. Brushstroke is talented and all, but every mural is a time I couldn’t catch them.”

Maybe it was the wine still buzzing through your system. Maybe it was the thrill of it. Maybe you just wanted to see those beautiful green eyes widen. But you couldn’t help the next words out of your mouth.

“Well you might have an easier time if you ever actually figured my quirk out.”

“Yeah I…” He stopped. Stared. “You…” He stared harder, pulling away slightly as he looked your figure up and down. “You!!!”

“Surprise?” You laughed, and grinned at him. He was always so handsome when he was angry. You weren’t scared at all as he hauled you close.

“Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

“Pretty good idea, actually.”

“You’ve been leading me on goose chases for months!”

You grinned “Yes, will be our anniversary soon.”

Izuku groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waste. “You irredeemable brat!”

You would have replied, but in the next second he was fiercely smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss started harsh and desperate. The results of months of teasing and flirting. It gentled as the two of you stood there in the night, soft and sweet and full of affection the two of you had yet to put into words. The thought occurred to you that you’d have to thank Mei later. Your eyes opened as the two of you pulled away for breath. You started giggling almost immediately. Izuku pressed his forehead against yours.

“What’s so funny, darling?”

You smirked. “I never thought we’d have our first kiss while being mooned by Dynamight.”

Izuku groaned loudly before sweeping you up into his arms. You squawked and clung to him.

“That’s it.” He rumbled. “I’m going to spank you when I get you home, you fucking brat.”

“Promise?” you giggled.

You didn’t mind in the least when he shut you up with another kiss.

[nocluewhatsupg]

Michael, Brahms, Jason, and Billy being dragged on a hiking trip

Michael Myers

What

Wack

Mildly amused by whatever he finds along the trail

Does not complain, somehow keeps that creepy speed-walk for the entire trip

You’ve got no clue how he feels, but you’re certain he’d rather be anywhere else

Might push you into the lake if he’s bored (and you’re around one)

Might try to trip you by suddenly walking both ahead of you and over you (he’s more important).

Doesn’t want to leave his signature jumpsuit no matter how much you nag, instantly regrets his decision once he’s covered in sweat and his clothes are scratched and covered in scrapes from thorns he wandered into. Won’t admit it, though.

Wears the fucking mask. You may be able to wrestle him into a short sleeved shirt and sweatpants with a lot of careful persuasion, but the mask is non negotiable. He also pours water from your bottle directly onto the mask. Maybe he drinks from the eye holes, who knows. You have no clue how it’s in such good condition.

Speaking of wandering into thorns, he’ll wander off the trail. No need to go after him or worry, he’s a real survivalist , and he’ll either find his way back to your car, or you’ll hear of a recent massacre in a nearby town...

Glares at anyone you may encounter, standing behind you menacingly. Funny, people are so rude to just hurry past you, and not greet you...

Drinks from the lake too, despite your protests. Should’ve brought him some fucking fruit juice or something.

Will find a squirrel, or whatever animal he can choke the life out of, and promptly place it in your hands.

Take him home now or you’re next.

The trip ends there, and went just as bad as you expected.

If there’s a visitor’s office, he’ll be fascinated by the trinkets for sale. He doesn’t want one, and might strangle you if you point out a magnet or key chain with his name on it. If you’re immortal, you might buy one just to fuck with him later. He shoplifts some food, mainly dried jerky, while making direct eye contact with the poor cashier (who is currently wondering if their job is really worth it).

Stares at the taxidermy animals stuffed on the walls. Idly wonders if he can get you stuffed when you eventually die. If he’s in a good mood, he’ll point to the morbid work of art, then to you until you get the point. He doesn’t want your opinion. He just wants you to know he’ll think about doing it. How sweet of him.

There are some cheap stamps on a table, meant for small passports you can buy to track where you’ve been (if it’s a large, government funded park). Michael will allow you to stamp (and maybe thirst over) his hand, but only after you’ve stamped your own hand first. Just in case. Mildly panicked when he couldn’t rub it off. There was obviously no emotional reaction, but his sharp blue eyes betrayed his fear. You quickly reassured him it would come off, and he relaxed. Looked very dead inside, and you would be dead on the outside and in if you mentioned it.

Next time, you hike by yourself, and find that he’s lurking in the shadows. How he got there before you is beyond you, but he’s there. Mission passed?

(Secretly enjoyed the outdoors, just doesn’t want to do what you tell him)

Brahms Heelshire

Props on you for getting him out of his mansion. You’re most likely walking around the estate’s vast property, the most you could convince him to go.

He is whining, tugging on your sleeve, begging to go back inside.

He is not tired, or sore, or uncomfortable. Going out was never part of the rules. There was no need to do so.

Brahms grows more and more irritated as you continue, and you realize why you never saw parents with small children on the trails.

Snap at him and he’ll snap right back, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. He takes you, screaming and kicking, back inside. You yell at him for a good long while, and by the time child-Brahms is back and begging for your forgiveness, you’ve lost the mood to hike. With a sigh, you leave him in the kitchen, and turn to lock yourself away in your room. He isn’t far, however..

Assuming you bit your tongue and stayed silent (as you did with many of his strange mannerisms), he just might shut up long enough for you to begin to enjoy the thick British forest. Mossy stones and vine covered trees, all much older than you could begin to imagine.

You might have a better chance at hiking in peace if you tie it into the schedule, opting to tell a fantasy story about goblins or fairies as you both walk through the very land the story could just take place in. Distracted, he’ll become enthralled in your story, and throwing you over his shoulder, taking you where he wants to be, will slowly slip out of his mind. You aren’t safe, though.

The sun dips below the trees, and you realized just how long you’ve been wandering around. There was still no sight of the fences that close the land off.

At the suggestion (or command, really. You are the one in charge. Maybe.) Brahms stands very still. The porcelain mask tilts upwards, to the multicolored sky, and he asks to sleep under the stars. The novel the two of you read back in the mansion had just been through a chapter where the characters slept outside, and it was only natural he wanted to experience it too.

You sigh. There aren’t any proper materials to really camp, but you didn’t want to let him down. So, you compromise. You’d start a small fire, and you’d both sit around it until it grew too cold and the flames weren’t enough. There was no sleeping on the ground, but it would be a curious idea to do in the summer.

Brahms lost interest in the fire faster than you thought. He stared at it for a good ten minutes, then began to pester you. He realized it was nothing special, it was just like the ones inside. Plus, he’s spent far too much time outside and a chill was beginning to crawl down his spine, shown to you when he’d swirl his head around to stare at the pitch black forest.

Whispering, as if to not wake the world around you, you urge him to sit still and enjoy. He doesn’t. It’s too cold. When he sits closer to the fire, it’s too hot. You throw another stick of wood into the orange flames and tell him to go inside. That won’t work either, because he wants you to go in with him.

Without a word, you place your face sharply into your palms. Your hot exhales warmed your hands, and accurately expressed the sparking embers of frustration inside your stomach. Brahms shuffles nervously, not wanting you to act out of normal, but also not wanting to do anything about it. He’s real complex, isn’t he?

Eventually, you agree to go inside. You always have to do what he wants in the end. You’re too tired to shout at him when he sheepishly asks you to sleep with him. You kiss the porcelain begrudgingly, and shuffle off to your room.

He watches you a little longer, from the walls. Just to make sure you’ve got no plans to leave.

Then maybe sneaks into your bed. What? Why are you upset? You looked cold. He’s doing you a favor. Thank him. No he won’t leave, you’ll freeze to death.

Billy Lenz

Actually having a good time.

He’s nervous, as always, but he was far too distracted by the sudden change in surroundings to care.

Of course he’d been outside before, gone to parks in his childhood just as everyone had, but they weren’t trips he could enjoy.

Here, it’s just you, him, and the great outdoors.

Things start off well, with him stopping occasionally to touch a weird plant, or to point out a bug that scuttled behind a tree.

He walked oddly, hands in his back pockets and he was rather hunched over his own figure. He seemed rather awkward, and when you’d remind him he was fine, he’d stand up straighter and give you an unsure smile. Most annoyingly, he’d swing his elbows with each step. They often smacked into yours, and you never earned an apology.

You told him he’d get tired like that, and all he did was shout “Hogwash!” at you in an accent you couldn’t quite put your finger on, and continue. He swung harder just because he could, nearly twisting himself around with intensity, and you earned a bruise or two when he’d lean closer to you.

Predictably, he grew tired, and complained.

Congrats, you’re walking with a human radio that never turns off.

Offers to take your water bottle, and drinks it all while you’re distracted by the scenery.

Speaking of scenery, he doesn’t care. Billy might point out how a mountain off in the distance looks like a certain shot in a movie he watched years ago, or suddenly begin rambling about a plot of another film whose setting reminded himself of where he walked now. It’s interesting to listen to, sure, but he goes on for hours. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to care if you don’t pay attention.

He will hiss and snarl at anyone you may encounter on the trail, either mocking them if they greet him (or you), or mock your response (or theirs). Please hope you don’t run into anyone with an accent, because he’ll speak in a poor reenactment of it for the rest of the trip.

Is incredibly hypocritical and will become upset if you cross paths with a group of loud hikers. Will scream how it’s rude to ruin the peace. Once the group silences, he will unconsciously begin to mumble or talk to you. Prepare for nasty stares.

Will stop to pee at least three times, both going and coming back. How many times he actually needed to was beyond you, but he did take an awful long time each stop. You do know for certain he flat out spat on the ground one time, then stood still for four minutes.

Secretly wants to go into the lake, but doesn’t say anything about it. You eventually pick up on the look in his wild eyes, and when you gesture to the deep blue water, he wastes no time jumping in. Will slip on a rock, misjudging just how slippery the lake bottom becomes, and is now completely drenched from head to toe. Billy refuses to get undressed, and becomes very uncomfortable if you do when/if you join him. That basically ends that if you are female, he’ll frown and carry a snarl in his words, mumbling something about appeal and trickery. He doesn’t discriminate either, the reaction is similar if you are male, although he doesn’t become nearly as upset. If you don’t go in (the best choice, really), sitting on the sandy shore and keeping your feet into the cool lake, he’ll throw water on you anyway. Rest in peace, your dry clothes. Refusing to surrender to your local attic rat, a playful fight ensues, and for that moment, you almost forget what a monster he is. Maybe it’s best you keep that locked away.

You win, and he bites your shoulder in bitter defeat. It’s not even in a sexy way or anything. He just fucking bites you. You’re lucky it doesn’t bleed much, the wound rather shallow, but it still hurt.

>:(

In his mind, he won, and that’s final. Will brag about his victory the entire ride home.

(shitpost: you cry about your wound, and get him to gingerly reach an arm out to touch it. You take this distraction to bite his wrist. Billy screams so loud all the windows in every car shatters instantly. He pulls away from you, clutching his injured wrist, and shouts every profanity he could think of. You both are not so kindly asked to never return to the park ever again.)

Jason Voorhees

Walking through Crystal Lake? No. You can’t do that. No, y/n, that’s his cursed campground. Go find your own.

You are, however, allowed to walk around the lake. Outside the parameters of the camp, he’s still a little on edge that you’re alive, but he’ll let you. Don’t say he never did anything for you.

He doesn’t make a single sound as he follows you from a slight distance, through bushes and low hanging branches, he’s silent. You turn around and see him standing there, machete in hand, watching.

A chill is constantly going down your spine, and no matter how much you trust him, your brain absolutely does not agree. About fifteen minutes into your hike, you swore you could hear a faint “ch ch ah ah” whispered through the trees.

If you call him out on it, he’ll simply shrug his broad shoulders, then turn his mask slowly to look ahead. He urges you to continue, so he can return to patrolling his beloved camp and slaughtering everything that breaths.

He isn’t being malicious, he cares about you, in some odd fashion. It is only natural for humans to long for companionship, and he is desperate for anything that returns him to a time when he was afraid of a hunter’s gun. You however, in all your beauty, are simply not enough to tear him away from his supernatural duty. Nothing is.

Returning home from the awkward hike, you invite him inside your house, a small two story cabin nestled just outside the camp grounds.

He agrees, shuffles into your living room, and stands there.

Jason parks himself just next to the small television, a spot he’d been to so often there was an outline of eternal mud and grime in the shape of perfect (and large) boots. 

He stares at you as you go through your daily routine, as you cook dinner and eat it. As you watch some television, or read a book, or catch up on your favorite hobby. Jason is aware he’s free to leave whenever he wants, do whatever he pleases, but he doesn’t want to. He’s perfectly content with just standing there, far too nervous to actually interact with you.

The sky gets darker, and the crickets begin to chirp loudly. You tell him goodnight, get no response, and head upstairs. He waits a few moments, turns off your living room lights, and vanishes back into the thick, New Jersey woods. Duty calls.

[rolandtowen]

Prince Zuko was a harsh, entitled boy.

Firelord Zuko is a ruler who makes amends. - a study in the various side characters that Zuko came across in his banishment, and how he repays his past actions.

Read Chapter One on ao3 or under the cut! TW for referenced non-con and colonialism

[I believe @flamehotman and @flameomcfirey wanted to be tagged?]

Chapter One: Song

We will get there when we get there, don't you worry Feel bad about the things we do along the way But not really that bad We inhaled the frozen air Lord, send me a mechanic if I'm not beyond repair

- The Mountain Goats

It happened on a Tuesday afternoon.

Zuko was meeting with the agricultural council, a collection of both scholars and farmers, to discuss best practices for renewing the Fire Nations agricultural trade. For so many decades, the Fire Nation out-sourced its agriculture to land in the colonies and imported much of its food. But with the land being given back, the Fire Nation was either going to have to begin growing its own food again, or import their food at a fair price. The economic committee decided on Monday that reviving the Fire Nation farms would be far more cost effective - and of course, would create more jobs in the Fire Nation. With the war over, the number of soldiers that the military required had dropped dramatically, and there were many citizens without work. Zuko had instated severance benefits for unemployed soldiers - the ones not found guilty of war crimes of course, mostly the young recruits - but it couldn't last forever.

It was maddening. Every time Zuko unraveled one problem, he undoubtedly found or created another one. He was trying, really trying, to keep his people safe. But he also had a duty to the rest of the world. The nations that his lineage colonized, pillaged, and destroyed. He resists the urge to write to Aang, to ask him how he does it, how he balances all of the nations in every action he takes. But Aang is busy, all of his friends are, spread thin to the four corners of the world.

Uncle visits him occasionally, when the letters from staff concerned about Zuko's health pile up on his desk. One too many servants have found him, asleep at his desk, face down in treaty papers. But Uncle has his hands full. He already splits his time enough between the Jasmine Dragon and Ember Island, looking after Azula.

Azula.

She was improving, and that's really all Zuko can ask for. He sees her a couple of times a month, pours her a cup of tea, and they sit on the balcony of their vacation-house-turned-mental-retreat. Most of the time, they don't talk. Zuko won't push her; he remembers his silence in his first few months of being banished, how Uncle had to coax him to say anything at meals. Sometimes the only words he uttered in a day were in prayer before meditation. Zuko had thought to himself, speaking out got me into this mess: I'll never speak again.

He's not sure what words were exchanged between Azula and Ozai before he left her and went to burn down the Earth Kingdom, but he can guess it wasn't good. Few of his father's words were.

So they sit and drink their tea. Sometimes, on a good day, Zuko will fix up Azula's hair for her, and she'll reveal some bits of information that he files away for future examination. Something like, I saw Mom before you came with Master Katara. Or she'll double check her reality, asking, you let Ty Lee and Mai out of jail, right? and Zuko will say yes, her friends are safe, they should be visiting any day now.

As painful as seeing her may be, spending time with Azula is far preferable to sitting through an agricultural council meeting.

He looks down at the paper in front of him, a comprehensive budget list for all of the supplies needed to revitalize the Fire Nation's agricultural sphere. Dozens of machines that he's sure Sokka had a hand in inventing, hundreds of varieties of seeds that Omashu is generously selling to them, and -

Thousands of ostrich-horses.

"Councilor Yichen, can you elaborate on the number of animals in this budget? Certainly with the machines we'll provide, farmers will not need so many working livestock."

Councilor Yichen stands, giving a little bow in Zuko's direction. "Of course, Lord Zuko. While the machines will certainly boost productivity, we only have enough for one per farming village at this point. Each family needs at least one working animal, if not to plow the fields, then to transport goods. We decided on ostrich-horses on a recommendation from farmers in the Earth Kingdom colonies, who found them to be invaluable. An ostrich-horse is, in many ways, more valuable than a machine."

Zuko's stomach settles uncomfortably, but he isn't entirely sure why. "Thank you, Councilor. I understand now."

Yichen gives another little bow before he sits, and the rest of the meeting goes as planned, with the exception of a strange seed of unknown guilt now growing in Zuko's stomach.

"Uncle, do you remember when you made tea out of that poisonous plant?"

Uncle laughs, hands faltering as he pours Zuko a cup of jasmine tea. "I remember, Nephew. How could I ever forget?"

"Do you remember the girl who helped you?"

Uncle takes a sip of the warm tea. "Song. Her mother made the best roast duck." He looks at Zuko out of the corner of his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Zuko looks out over the gardens. He's able to see the whole palace grounds from where they're seated on the second-floor balcony, watching the sun rise. As far as the eye can see, Zuko is upheld as a flawless ruler, his word taken as law. He's sick of it.

"I stole her ostrich-horse," he murmurs into his tea, taking a sip to calm his nerves. "I just remembered, in that agricultural meeting a few days ago. I - I never knew how essential those were to farmers, I just thought I was taking their ride." He turns to fully face his Uncle. "But I think I took a lot more than that."

Uncle meets his eyes with understanding. "And now you want to give it back."

"I know there's no way for me to fully apologize for how I acted in exile, but it feels like I have to try." The cup quivers a bit in his hands, and so his hands drop to his lap. "I'll need someone to watching over the Nation while I'm gone."

Uncle places one of his warm hands over Zuko's shaking ones. "I'm sure I can deal with your advisors for a few days." He squeezes his hand just slightly around Zuko's. "I'm proud to see that even in a few short months, your wisdom as a ruler is growing. Go, make your amends. The Nation will be here when you return." Uncle calls for Zuko's secretary and tells her to clear as much of the Firelord's schedule as she can for the next week. Their voices fade into the background as Zuko stares into his tea, wracking his brain to try and figure out how to track down just one girl in the entire Earth Kingdom. Sending scouts or soldiers from town to town is a recipe for disaster, and the Earth Kingdom villages have been traumatized enough. He supposes he could always call in a ride on his favorite air bison but - this feels like something he should do on his own.

If Song hates him, it might be hard for her to show it in front of the Avatar.

So he'll go alone. No friends, no royal guard. He'll come into Song's town the same way he came last time - defenseless. She can hate him if she wants, he'll give her that.

And he'll try to give back what he took from her.

He packs light, pulling an old tunic and boots from the back of his wardrobe. Though they've been thoroughly cleaned by the palace staff, the scent of campfires and smoke linger upon them. He grabs a cloak - the Earth Kingdom will be starting to chill at this time of year - and he slips out of the palace, using the servant's entrance to get onto the streets unseen.

Autumn comes quietly in the Earth Kingdom. The trees slowly lose their color, giving the last of their strength into vibrant leaves. Soldiers previously conscripted to fight in the war have either returned to their families or have gone to tend to the scorched earth where the Phoenix King made landfall. They clear the debris of fallen airships, making room for the earth to slowly restore herself.

Song envies those soldiers.

Their lives have changed with the ending of the war, but Song's life continues on, its mundane routine continuing over and over again. She cares for a small garden, crafts herbal remedies for her neighbors, and tries to make her mother comfortable. She curses the Spirits for their cruel sense of humor - her mother survives the greatest war ever seen, lives through the attempted invasion of her homeland, only to be struck down by frailty months after the end of it all. Hasn't she suffered enough? Song has whispered those words to the woods on her way to the well time and time again. Now, her body is just - stopping.

Her mother is dying and there's nothing she can do.

Song knows all living things have their time. And she's seen too many living beings go before their rightful time. But she never imagined her mother's time would be in a time of peace. Wasn't ending the war supposed to stop all this pain? Apparently not. She tries not to become bitter, knows that that's the last thing her mother would want for her, but - it hurts. And there's not a damn thing she can do about it.

The leaves from dying trees crackle under her feet.

She arrives at the well, alone. Her hometown is just barely beginning to wake up, rising from its slumber as mothers bring in dry clothes from the clotheslines and fathers begin to toil in the fields. Children run freely from street to street, with a joy that was forbidden during the Fire Nation's occupation. They're kicking at a ball, passing it from one pair of bare feet to another, and Song smiles at them. Someday, maybe.

She sets her water jug on the stone wall of the well and begins to lower the bucket before hearing the ball make impact and a man's voice grunt, "oof!". She spins rapidly around to see a young man, rear planted firmly in the dirt, one hand rubbing at his forehead while the other wipes at a watering eye. The group of children stand, frozen, and she gives them a look, and unspoken command to stay and apologize to the man they just hit with their ball.

"Here, take my hand," Song holds out her right hand, and the man takes it. When the young man meets her eyes, she almost drops him back in the dirt. He has those amber eyes, and she can just see under his loose hair - a burn scar. "Lee?!"

He stands, brushing dust from his cloak, and she catches the hints of red fabric that lie beneath. She recoils. He sighs. "Um, about that." Song sees his hands tremble against his cloak. "My name's not Lee - and I'm from the Fire Nation."

Song reacts as if she'd been slapped. She trips backwards, away from Not Lee, landing hard against the stone of the well. Her leg is aching, feels like its on fire all over again, looking into those amber eyes.

"How could you? I let you into my home." She braces her hands against the well, her leg threatening to give out at any moment. "Now it all makes sense, that you stole from me. That's all you ashmakers are good for." She spits, and it lands on his scarred cheek. "You take land that isn't yours, take women that aren't yours, you take lives!" Her leg finally collapses, and she sinks to the ground with her back against the well. Not Lee makes a move, and she throws her hands up. "Don't you touch me," she grits out, clutching at her leg. He stills, and she wraps her arms around herself, bringing her knees to her chest. "I pitied you, you know? I thought your mother must've been - I looked at your eyes and thought you were a victim like me, like my mother." Her whole body is trembling, but she doesn't care. "But I bet you know who your father is, I bet you're proud to have his eyes."

Not Lee mirrors her, curling in on himself, not even bothering to wipe his face clean. "I do know who my father is, but I'm not proud of him." He looks up to meet her eyes, and Song is struck by how young he looks. When she'd last seen him, he'd looked gaunt, malnourished, with sharp cheekbones. Now, his face had filled out and he looks - young? The scar makes him look older as well, but when you look on the opposite side of his face - all she can see is a kid, couldn't be older than a teenager.

And he was crying.

Stubborn as he is, Not Lee is resolutely ignoring the tears slowly falling from his eyes, but nevertheless - they fell. Song didn't expect that reaction. Tears are not what she expected from a Fire National. Anger, rage, violence - those are the things she's tasted at the hands of firebenders, but this? This is new.

"I'm sorry," Not Lee whispers, looking at his feet. "I came to apologize, I wanted to repay you for your kindness and return what I took. But I think I've overstayed my welcome." He scrubs at his face roughly with the heel of one hand. "But I am, truly sorry. I acted selfishly the last time I was in your home, and I took advantage of your compassion. And I understand that my nation has done even worse. I'm trying to make it better." He pulls his hair back with a band. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I would like to purchase you a new ostrich-horse. And anything else you or your mother may require."

Without warning, Not Lee shifts from his seat position to a bowing one, kneeling with his head pressed to the dry earth. Song stares at him for a small eternity, before realizing that he's waiting, unmoving, for her response. For her judgement.

She lets out a small breath. "Okay," his eyes flick up to hers and her stomach twists. The way he bows is so precise - it must have been drilled into him hundreds of times before. Another thing she wouldn't have expected from a firebender. "Come to dinner."

He stands after she does and gives another slight bow. As they begin the walk back to Song's home, he offers to carry her water jug, and Song feels more weight than one lifted from her.

"What did you say your name was again, young man?" Mei pokes at Zuko's shoulder as she hobbles to the table.

"Mom, I'm sorry about her, she's getting older," Song sets a bowl of fragrant roast duck in front of him and Zuko feels his mouth begin to water.

"No, it's okay, I don't think I've actually properly introduced myself." He takes a quick sip of tea - bracing himself for whatever will happen next - and calmly sets the mug back down. "My name is Zuko," he begins slowly. "AndI'mkindoftheFirelord."

There's the sound of Song dropping a bowl in the kitchen, and Mei leans in a bit closer to Zuko.

"Sorry, dear, could you say that again? My ears aren't what they used to be."

Zuko opens his mouth to respond, but Song slowly enters the room, her eyes narrowed in on Zuko. "You said - you're the firelord?" He nods at her, waiting for her to swing a knife at him, kick him out of their home, call some earthbenders to rough him up -

Before his panic can start to set in, Song runs out the front door, slamming it behind her.

Zuko looks helplessly at Mei.

"Give her a moment." Mei brings her pair of chopsticks to her mouth. "Hmm, she still doesn't make it as well as I used to."

"What about you? Do you hate me?"

Mei sighs, putting her bowl down. "I'm too old for hate, dear. My time in this world is almost over. I can't spend it hating world rulers." She takes a sip of her tea. "But Song? She -" Mei sighs again. "She's been hurt deeply by the Fire Nation, in more ways than one. And it isn't just you. But for a long time, the monarchy has been the embodiment of everything terrible that's ever happened to her. And now you're here, standing in front of her."

Zuko nods. "I understand. And I am sorry, to you as well. I don't think I fully understood the reach of the war. I was always taught that the army acted with honor, that women and children were untouchable." He looks down at his folded hands. "I can see that was false."

"Unfortunately, you are correct." She reaches between them to refill Zuko's cup, then Song's, and hands them both to him. "Go to her. A bit of tea should help bring you some good favor."

The screen door opens and closes, and Zuko finds himself out on the porch. Song sits on the edge, absently massaging her leg, peering into the darkness of the forest.

"Can I join you?"

She shrugs, and he takes that as a yes. Handing over her tea, Zuko sits besides her and tries to find what she sees in the darkness.

For a few minutes, the only sounds are those of them drinking and crickets chirping. Then Song speaks.

"His name was Bao."

Treasured. Precious. Rare.

"That's a lovely name."

"What happened to him?" Song turns abruptly to look at him with shining eyes. "Did he...?"

Zuko shakes his head emphatically. "My Uncle and I traded him to a florist for safe passage to Ba Sing Se. The florist seemed like a good man."

"You went to Ba Sing Se?"

Zuko runs one hand down the back of his neck. "I might have conquered it, actually?"

Sing snorts. "That part I've heard about. You've lived an interesting life, Zuko."

"If by 'interesting' you mean messy, then yes." He sighs. "You had no reason to trust me. Why did you let me back into your home?"

Song laughs, tinged with bitterness. "My mother says I'm too trusting, too gullible." She swirls the dregs of her tea around the bottom of her cup. "But I think there's strength in being kind. And I really did want to forgive you. But you have to be ready."

"And do you think I am?"

She smiles softly at him. "For me, yes. But my guess is I'm not the only person you hurt in exile." She gulps down her remaining tea. "They may not be as forgiving as I am."

"I'm preparing myself for that possibility."

"Does it scare you?"

Zuko ponders it. "I think it does. The idea that I've hurt someone innocent so badly that they may never be able to move past it... that keeps me up at night."

Songs turns towards him, tucking her knees up to her chest. "We can't control how other people see us in this life. How they react to our actions is up to them - all that we can control is our response. You have to be ready to accept that someone may not be ready to forgive you, and you can't let that eat you up." She stares at him intently. "You have to confident that your own actions are enough. That they're good."

It's Zuko's turn to laugh sourly. "Easier said than done," his hand wanders to his scar. "Sometimes I'm still not sure if what I'm doing is right."

"You don't have to do it alone, you know," Song gives him an understanding look. "You need other people around you, Zuko, to remind you what's good."

He huffs, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. "Do you want to be one of those people?"

"I think you have more than enough goodness surrounding you already. You just have to be confident enough to ask." She sighs, looking back out into the darkness. "Besides, I have to stay here with my mother. She doesn't have long."

"Are you sure there's nothing I can do? I could send my healers -"

She shakes her head, cutting him off midsentence. "It's her time." She begins to rub at her scars again. "I just didn't know how much it would hurt. We finally have some peace, and suddenly it's her time."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, not for this. It's due to you that she'll be able to die during peacetime." Her hands come to her eyes, wiping tears away before they can spill down her cheeks. "Her biggest fear was that she'd die and leave me alone to fend for myself during the war. You released her from that fear. Of course I forgive you, Zuko. My mother's no longer scared of dying because of you."

The two of them are silent for a long time, watching fireflies flicker off and on in the trees, listening to the crickets sing.

"I'm going to find Bao for you."

Song looks up in surprise. "You don't have to-"

"I want to, I'm sure he's still out there somewhere." Zuko rises from his seat. "If you ever need anything, anything, you write directly to me. I'll tell my staff that you're a priority."

"Are you leaving?" Song stands as well. "You could stay, if you want."

Zuko shakes his head silently. "I have to get back, and travelling by night is best for a Firelord who doesn't want his identity revealed," he smiles, his scarred skin relaxing into it. With that, he pulls his hair out of its topknot, grabs his pack and swords, and starts to disappear into the night.

"Firelord Zuko?" He stops and turns back at the sound of Song's voice. She makes the sign of the flame and bows. "Thank you, for everything." He bows back, lower than protocol dictates, but he doesn't care.

Three weeks pass, and the air has turned bitterly cold.

Song again makes her daily trip to the village well, with snow crunching under her feet instead of dead leaves. The soldiers have returned from their work in restoring fields for the season, and so the village feels alive when she steps into it. Despite the chill, children still run in the street, under the watchful eye of their mothers and fathers. Song feels a twinge of longing, but she tries to focus on the happiness she feels for the children instead. Song sets her water jug on the side of the well, breathing hot air into her palms to warm her hands after touching the freezing stone.

"Excuse me, miss, are you Song?" A voice comes from behind her, and she turns to see two men dressed in red tunics.

"I am," she replies, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hanbok. "And you are?"

They bow to her. "We come on behalf of Firelord Zuko, to deliver a gift." A third man rounds the corner with an ostrich-horse on a tether. "We found him at a desert settlement, he's been well taken care of, but if there's anything you need -"

They're cut off as Song runs to throw her arms around the neck of the ostrich-horse. "Bao!" She strokes his beak, looking into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

Bao cocks his head to the side, pupils widening as he chirps softly, and then he lets out a loud whinny, pushing his head into Song's chest. He purrs, closing his eyes and relaxes against her.

"Sweet Bao, it's really me, you're really home," Song can feel her eyes dampening, but holds it together as one of the men hands her a bit of parchment.

"A note from the Firelord. He wanted us to remind you that you can write to him anytime you need anything."

Song nods. "And tell him I said 'thank-you' again." Bao whinnies loudly again, and she adds on, "Bao says 'thank-you' too."

"Of course, miss." With a synchronized bow, the men depart, and Song unrolls the parchment.

Song,

I've followed your advice and surrounded myself with good people. It helps.

Give my best to your mother - my Uncle still talks about her roast duck sometimes. I've established a fund specially for women and child victims of the war, inspired by some of what you and Mei shared with me. Write me if you feel like you or anyone in your village wants to apply for it.

And, thank you for trusting and forgiving me. I'll try to keep earning it.

May the Spirits continually bless you,

Zuko

She tucks the parchment into her pocket, fills her jug, and finds herself back in Bao's familiar saddle after more than a year. "Come on, Bao," she says as she takes the lead into her hands, guiding them back to the empty farmhouse.

"Let's go home."

[if you read through this whole thing, go drink some water! I'll know if u don't :) ]

[imagine-that]

Quidditch lesson

Warnings: so much fluff your teeth will rot

Pairing: Oliver Wood x reader

AN: hi, I’m in love with Oliver Wood and proud of it, that bby is absolutely a keeper on and off the quidditch pitch

You run excitedly into the Gryffindor common room, racing over to your boyfriend and pecking him on the cheek.

“Hey.” You greet, sitting down in the chair next to him.

“Hi.” He says, not looking up from the papers in front of you. It takes you a second but you notice the other teens crowded around him, looking down at the same papers in concentration.

“What’re you lot up to?” You ask, playing with his hair with one hand.

“Wood is working on a new Quidditch play.” One of the twins says enthusiastically. The others nod eagerly, turning their attention back to the papers.

“Oh... well, are you coming on the Hogsmeade trip later this week?” You ask, looking at your boyfriend with your head tilted to reach the level of his.

“I might. It depends how this play works out.” He murmurs, his quill flying across the paper in concentration.

“Okkkk... then maybe you’ll sit with me at dinner tonight?” You ask hopefully, wrapping your arms around him, giving him a hug from the back.

“I have a lot of homework to catch up on, I was planning on just eating small and coming back here early to work.” He says with a frown, finally looking up at you in an apologetic way you dread seeing.

“I can help!” You offer, desperately trying to find a time in the both of your busy schedules for each other.

“Y/n darling, I would love to spend some time with you. But you and I both know I’d get nothing done as long as you’re near.” He points out, making you smile a little against your will.

“That’s true.” You pout. “Okay. We’ll figure this out. I promise.” You swear, sitting back down and reaching over to touch his hand supportively.

To some, it was a wonder the two of you were still together with the lack of quality time you had together. To the both of you, you were inseparable at heart, even if it wasn’t physically. Still, you couldn’t help but feel the absence of his presence when he was busy.

He smiles up at you gratefully, scooting closer to you and giving you a kiss on the lips, holding you in his arms for a long and sweet moment, ignoring the hollering of the quidditch team around him.

“Yeah yeah, alright.” You call with a laugh, waiting for them to settle down. “Now back to work, all of you.” You order jokingly, standing back up and pecking Oliver on the forehead before walking off to think of the best way to spend time with him.

——————————————————

“Y/n, are you sure about this?” Oliver asks warily as he lugged the trunk of quidditch balls onto the field.

“Yes Wood I’m quite sure.” You respond, hands on your hips.

He sighs with a small smile, pulling open the lid to reveal the equipment.

“Ok so remind me again which ball is which?” You ask hopefully. He laughs slightly, having explained it to you many times while watching matches but not overly upset about going over the game again.

“This here is the quaffle. It’s the one the chasers use to make the goals into those hoops.” He explains as he pulls out the scarlet leather ball and points at the three hoops off in the distance.

You roll your eyes, laughing a little. “I know that much already.” You giggle and he looks up at you with a grin.

“Well you did ask me to explain which is which.” He argues and you nod in agreement.

“The bludgers are the nastier ones, you might need the bat.” He continues, offering you the stick. You take it, quickly smacking one of the balls off into the air when it comes at you.

“Hm... seems you would make an excellent beater.” He says and you beam at the compliment.

“Thank you, I’m glad to have the approval of the expert.” You tease with a grin, giggling as he playfully scoffs.

“Then you have the snitch.” He continues, pulling out the shimmering golden ball.

“That one is mean. It’s pretty but evil. I know that as well.” You note, admiring the shiny trinket.

He chuckles, sticking it back in the box.

“That is very true.” He admits. “The beaters, as you know, keep the bludgers away from the seeker, the chasers and the keeper, me.” He explains even more, getting heavily into explaining the game he loved so much to you.

“I mean, of course you’d be the keeper. In the game and in love.” You tease, with a smile, reaching up to him and planting a kiss on his cheek again.

“Aww thanks love.” He says, a grin of his own plastered to his face as he goes to put the other balls back into the chest alongside the snitch.

“Woah, woah, woah. I thought you were going to teach me how to play!” You exclaim, raising an eyebrow.

“Y/n, quidditch can be a pretty dangerous game-.” He starts with a sigh but not before you can interrupt.

“I’m well aware. But you play it all the time and you’re obviously perfectly fine. I want to learn so I can spend more time with you.” You argue, crossing your arms over your chest.

You understood why he would be anxious or worried about you, the game was risky. But you wanted to be around your boyfriend more. You didn’t want to have to wait for quidditch to be over to even get a second of his time.

“Alright let me fetch the brooms.” He groans in surrender. You clap your hands together in victory, watching as he accios them to you.

“I didn’t realize you could do that with a broom!” You exclaim happily, running over to grab one of them from him.

As you get a grip on it, his tightens.

“You know how to get it to fly, correct?” He asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Yes Oliver, I took flying in first year, same as you.” You groan, tugging on it again.

He finally lets go, letting you go over the routine to get it mounted while he runs over to release the balls again, afterwards getting on his own broom with ease.

“Ok, you can do this y/n. I believe in you.” He says reassuringly, tossing the bat over to you. You catch it in one hand easily.

He looks at you curiously before flying upwards a little bit.

“Sure you haven’t played before?” He asks with an eyebrow raised.

You shrug a little, a smirk on your face. “I may have played a few times with my family over the summer.” You explain, flying around in a circle around him to show your flying skills.

Soon, a ball comes flying at you and just as your instincts tell you to dodge, you instead smack it across the middle with the bat, a loud whacking sound in the air.

“Damn!” Oliver calls out, looking at you admiringly, making you blush.

“You act as though I’ve won the quidditch World Cup.” You call back with a laugh.

Next he grabs the quaffle, tossing it over to you. You catch it hastily, having only a bit of trouble with your coordination. You fly over to where Oliver is, flying up and down and around him, trying to throw him off before you finally toss it into the hoop with some difficulty due to the bat already under your arm.

Oliver cheers embarrassingly loud, making you laugh and blush all at once though you already know he was being sweet and taking it easy on you for your benefit.

Once again a bludgers comes at you only this time it makes you lose your grip on the broom. You almost fall but Oliver is right nearby, quickly getting you back on.

“I told you it’d be dangerous. Are you alright?” He asks, his mouth set in another frown of worry.

“I’m fine. A little shaken but fine. Let’s continue shall we?” You say, taking the quaffle from him just as you lean in to give him a kiss, flying off to the hoops and throwing it into one of them.

“I’d say that’s a bit like cheating.” He teases with another smile.

“All’s fair in love and war.” You argue happily.

He chuckles, flying off to grab the ball before it’s too far to reach, it being a two person quidditch match.

Soon enough, the rest of the Gryffindor team finds the two of you playing around on your brooms, moreso chasing each other than actually playing and they very eagerly grab their own broomsticks, joining in the fun.

Though they weren’t exactly invited, you weren’t bothered at all, already loving everyone on the team as though you yourself were a part of it and not Oliver.

By the end of the game, you’ve not only been hit about three times by the bludgers, nearly screamed a few times when the chasers come by with the quaffle and watched in awe of Harry chasing the snitch around the pitch but the team is also practically begging you to join them.

“Honestly y/n, you’re the second best beater we’ve seen in years. After me of course.” Fred jokes as all of you dismount your brooms on the ground.

“We can arrange for someone to leave the team! I know! Fred’ll do it!” George exclaims.

Fred scoffs at this, looking at his brother as if he’s psychotic. “You mean you’ll do it George, good job taking one for the team!” He replies with a smug grin.

The two walk away bickering over which of their spots should go to you, ignoring the spew of your protests following them off the field.

“Blimey y/n, maybe you should be quidditch Captain for Gryffindor!” Oliver says in amazement as you walk over to him and the chest, the quaffle tucked under your arm.

“Nope, I do believe they have the best captain they could get right here.” You say with a grin.

He blushes a little but doesn’t try to hide it from you. “Not sure I’m the best exactly but thanks.” He smiles a little, pulling the ball out of your arms and wrapping his arms around you for a hug.

You hug back tightly, you head buried in his chest.

“Maybe we should think about getting you on the team?” He suggests hopefully but you shake your head.

“Oliver, I’m not gonna mess up your entire team by taking one of their spots, though I do appreciate the compliment. I’ll try out next year, alright?” You promise, looking up at his face.

“Alright. But you better believe I’ll be helping you train for that. I won’t be going easy on you because you’re my girlfriend/boyfriend/significant other you know.” He warns with a teasing grin.

You laugh a bit, grabbing the ball from him and putting it back in its place in the box.

“I think I can handle my own darling, thank you very much.” You challenge with a smirk.

“Oh believe me, I know you can.” He agrees, a loving smile on his face.

You smile proudly at his compliment.

“But if you already knew how to play, why’d I have to explain it all to you?” He asks curiously.

You breath a laugh. “Because it was the only way I could get you away from the team. There’s nothing you’re more passionate about than quidditch so I figured it was a safe bet.” You shrug.

“I have been leaving you for the team a lot lately haven’t I?” He asks, a guilt ridden frown taking over his face.

You take his face in your hands gently, making him look at you.

“In no way am I mad Oliver. I want you to know that. I just wanted to ensure some time with you.” You assure him.

“And was the time today what you wanted?” He asks, looking in your face for any sign of a lie.

“Today was everything I could’ve wanted. We should play together more often.” You promise with a soft smile.

He nods eagerly in agreement, one of his grins overtaking the frown.

The two of you walk hand in hand back off the quidditch pitch, one of the other members of the team having decided to take the balls back himself.

“You are wrong about one thing though.” He says as you reach the entrance back into the school.

“Oh? And what is that?” You question amusedly.

“I’m never going to be more passionate about anything, even quidditch, than I am about you and me.” He promises, leaning in and pressing a soft, sweet kiss onto your lips.

“You better not be.” You warn with a smile, telling him you’re only joking.

You walk back to the common room, snuggling up on one of the sofas together, both tired out from your amazing day.

[law-of-excluded-middle]

we have to stop meeting like this - part four (of four)

I wrote (part of) a fic for the Witcher Bog (@thewitcherbog) Discord server's July fic train event! I'm really grateful to the Bog for this opportunity to ease gently into writing fanfic, since this is really new for me :')

I was the caboose of the fic train, so if you've been following along, I hope you enjoy how it ends! And thanks for reading!

–

Ship: Lambden

Rating: T

Summary: Lambert, an angry apartment-dweller, deals with an uninvited guest. Repeatedly.

Written for @thewitcherbog train event with @all-hail-the-witcher, @king-finnigan and @jaskierswolf

Words: 5k (part four: 1.5k)

Part one, two, three, four (this one!) - AO3

Aiden, apparently, did a little bit of everything.

“Mostly gig stuff. Food delivery, grocery shopping, odd jobs... I build people’s flatpack furniture for them,” he rattled off. “Cat-sitting,” he added when Bastard, who had just come back inside through the open window, slinked over to him and bumped her head against his shoulder.

Aiden looked at the cat with such tender adoration in his eyes that it made Lambert feel almost uncomfortably warm, and he had to look away as Aiden continued. “I do some regular work for the community garden downtown, and I’m part of a pottery co-op.”

“Pottery? What, d’ya, like, sell shit on Etsy?” Lambert said between slurps of noodles.

A wry smile played on Aiden’s lips. “No,” he answered. “But I usually put in some hours at the winter craft market, peddling mugs and decorative plates, that sort of thing.” He paused. “As far as seasonal work goes, I imagine it’s a better deal than selling Christmas trees in the Home Depot parking lot,” he said, his smile growing into a teasing grin.

“Whoa,” Lambert said, starting. He felt his pulse race. “How do – how do you know where I work? Have you seriously been stalking me?” For the first time, he felt genuinely apprehensive in the presence of his mysterious guest.

But Aiden just laughed. “You’re joking, right?” Lambert scowled, which made Aiden laugh some more. “Your apron is hanging on the rack by the door. Your bright orange apron.”

Lambert whipped his head toward the door, then jerked it back around, and Aiden let out another peal of laughter. Lambert’s face was so hot he felt sweat beading on his forehead. He clenched his teeth, puffing up to defend himself, or at least to say something cutting and uncharitable, draw the focus away from his own cartoonish overreaction.

But one look at Aiden, leaning back on his hands where they were planted on the floor behind him, his head tossed back, shoulders shaking, and Lambert’s chagrin vanished like smoke before he had a chance to get properly worked up. “Oh, blame me for being suspicious of the guy who keeps breaking into my place,” he grumbled.

Still grinning, Aiden cocked his head. “Haven’t we already been over this? I don’t break in, I have a copy of your key.” His eyes sparkled deviously. “You’ll never guess where I had it made.” He glanced pointedly toward the coat rack once again before meeting Lambert’s gaze, his mouth quirked playfully.

“What, at my Home Depot?” Lambert demanded incredulously. Aiden answered with a toothy smile. “Unbelievable,” Lambert huffed. “How did you – when did you even get your hands on my key to copy it? – No, never mind, I don’t even care. What I’m more interested to know is how the hell this all started.”

Aiden’s eyes widened innocently. “How what all started?” But then he broke into a grin – that mischievous grin that Lambert was too quickly getting used to, and growing fond of – and sighed, apparently settling in for a story. “Let’s see, the first time I was here, that was a few weeks ago, right?”

“Weeks? Weeks?” This was news to Lambert. He had only become aware of Aiden’s drop-ins in the last ten days or so.

“Ah, right, right – you know, I think it was actually three weeks ago to the day! Imagine that,” Aiden continued, smiling beatifically, as if Lambert hadn’t even spoken. “Well... this story does not paint me in the most flattering light, actually…”

“Imagine that,” Lambert echoed dryly. “The story of the first time you broke into my apartment – and that was a break-in, I don’t even want to hear you try to deny it – and you’re telling me you don’t come out looking like the hero?”

“I’m not sure I see what you’re getting at,” Aiden said primly, not looking at Lambert. “Well, the short of it is, I’d gotten into a bit of a disagreement with some gentlemen that evening, and that turned into more of a scrap, which quickly gave way to a brawl. And I decided that the most civilized thing for me to do was to bow out gracefully.”

“So, you ran away,” Lambert said, for clarification.

“Like a bat out of hell,” Aiden confirmed with a smirk that was somehow both arrogant and self-deprecating. Lambert felt warm again. “Look, it wasn’t my finest hour. These guys were big, and I’m pretty agile, but I know when I’m outmatched.”

Aiden paused to hum thoughtfully. “Now, you on the other hand…” he continued. “If it had been you in my place, I imagine you could have taken them.” He smiled a tiny, devious little smile and curled forward, reaching out to wrap a hand around Lambert’s biceps. It flexed in his grip and his smile grew wide. “Yes, I’m quite sure,” he purred.

Lambert felt very warm. “Yeah, I’m. Uh. I, I guess I’m pretty good in a scrap. I, you know, I.” He flexed his arm again. “Move a lotta wood.”

“I bet you do,” Aiden murmured, leaning even further into Lambert’s space and looking up at him through his dense, dark eyelashes.

“Lumber,” Lambert hastened to clarify. “At. Fucking – At Home Depot. You know. Dimensional lumber, and pressure-treated pine, and like six kinds of plywood. OSB. MDF. You name it.” He grimaced.

Aiden was openly delighted at how flustered Lambert was getting, but he seemed to take pity on him. With a parting squeeze, he let go of Lambert’s arm and resumed eating his noodles, the picture of innocence.

“Let’s see – right, so I made my strategic exit and found myself hiding up your fire escape. Saw this little one get in through a half-open window” – he scratched behind the cat’s ears and she rubbed her face against his hand shamelessly – “and I figured I could use a place to lie low for an hour or two, so.” Aiden shrugged. He set his takeout container aside on the coffee table and scooped Bastard into his lap.

“Okay, that doesn’t explain why you kept coming back,” Lambert pointed out.

And there was that condescending smirk again. “Well, this part of the story isn’t so flattering for you,” he said.

Lambert scowled, which probably wasn’t very flattering for him, either.

Aiden sighed, still smiling. “I got such a strong impression of loneliness, just from being in your apartment for a few hours. And I thought you could use a friend. Who doesn’t want to make a new friend?” He looked so sweet and earnest for a moment that Lambert lost his train of thought.

But it came back. “Are you telling me you made a copy of my key so you could keep hanging around my apartment, because you pitied me?” he asked, baffled.

Aiden pouted just a little. “I wouldn’t say pitied, no. But come on, the tower of identical takeout containers” – he gestured pointedly to the one out of which Lambert was still eating – “seemed a bit sad. You needed some novelty in your life!”

Lambert stared at him. Objectively, this was batshit behavior.

And yet, he couldn’t find himself feeling anything but want. It had been so long since Lambert could remember wanting, or wanting anything new, anyway. He didn’t want to fight it.

“You’re definitely novel, I’ll give you that,” Lambert said at last. “So, what now? Because I gotta be honest with you,” he paused, “we really have to stop meeting like this.”

Aiden broke into a toothy grin. “Now? I think I ought to head home,” he said, rolling his shoulders back and stretching languidly. “And tomorrow, I think you should take me out for breakfast.”

“I have work in the morning,” Lambert protested.

“No you don’t,” Aiden replied without missing a beat.

“Damn, it really is a little creepy how well you know my schedule.”

Aiden laughed wickedly as he stood up, and Lambert followed. “I don’t have a car, will you drive? I can meet you here at ten, how’s that?”

“You don’t have a –? Never mind. Yeah, ten’s fine.” He had to wonder how the guy managed to work all these delivery gigs without a car, but they didn’t need to get into it right now; he had a feeling that it would take him some time to figure out how the hell Aiden operated, and he thought, with a fluttery sort of hope, that he would have that time.

Lambert walked Aiden to the door, and Aiden looked up at him coyly.

“I’ll have you know, Lambert, that I’m not one to kiss on the first date,” he said with affected sternness.

Lambert choked a little, startled, his face heating up rapidly. “Uh-huh, well, that’s fine, I won’t be uhh, expecting anything just for buying you breakfast,” he stammered.

Aiden just narrowed his eyes and smirked. “That’s what tonight was for: now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I might be expecting something after you buy me breakfast.” He raised his eyebrows slyly and then slipped out the door, leaving Lambert feeling entirely too warm.

If this all worked out, he thought, they were going to have to come up with a better story about how they met.

[nakedmossy]

Depth Over Distance - Part Two [Rudy x Reader]

[A/N: I haven’t found a hometown Rudy fic yet soooo I wrote one. I have no idea where this story is going to go and I’m honestly finding it hard to get out of writing JJ and get into writing Rudy, but here we go anyways. I wanted to write something where the reader and Rudy were hometown friends before he moved to LA, and to explore the idea of how that would change/what it would look like when he comes back. Get ready for a S L O W. B U R N. my dudes. Peace and love, Mossy x]

You blinked a few times and looked around you, realizing you were on the beach still, empty beer cans scattered on the blanket around you. You took a moment to sit up and rub your face before looking up at him, where he stood perfectly still above you, arms crossed, looking down with a grin on his face.

“What the f...” You trailed off, looking around you again. “I’m on the beach”

“That you are”

“You’re on the beach”

“That I am”

“What are you doing on the beach?”

Rudy looked down at you, amused, and took his hat off to run a hand through his hair before sitting down next to you.

“Not quite how I imagined you reacting after 4 years but...” He looked over and smiled again, you smiled back as you both opened your arms, leaning into a deep hug.

“Ooooh man, it is good to see you, Y/N” He said into your neck as he squeezed you, a classic Rudy bear hug, lung crushing and comforting.

“Hi Rudy” You mumbled into his neck and pressed into him deeper. “Where you been?”

It was a rhetorical question, it wasn’t as if you both hadn’t been keeping tabs on each other for the last few years on instagram and facebook. When you broke apart from the hug, Rudy sniffled and nodded at the one remaining full beer can that sat in the sand beside your backpack.

“Party fowl” He said in a lighthearted tone. You smiled and readjusted your position to face him instead of the water. 

“You’re here early.” You said, taking him all in. He looked mostly the same...with the addition of a slightly better hair cut and some more defined facial features. All traces of baby fat were gone.

“Actually I’m here on time...Alan messed up the flight schedule in his calendar. Had to get a car at the airport and drive myself here last night, caught the ferry this morning.”

You nodded along to his narrative, trying not to stare at his chiselled jawline. When did that even happen? You finally registered what he said and did a double take.

“You took the ferry this morning? And the first place you came was...the beach?” You looked at him sceptically now. He shook his head and laughed airily.  

“Actually the first place I went was your house. But your car wasn’t there so I drove to all the usual spots until I found it.”

You considered this for a second, watching him blankly. 

“Seriously?” You said after a few moments. “I thought you would have...I mean, where are your parents?”

“They’re at home...but you know how my dad is in the morning.” He joked before looking out over the water. After a few seconds of confused silence and you staring at him, not able to place if he was joking or being serious, he looked back over at you.

“Truthfully...I wanted to come say hi to you before people knew I was back. My dad has this whole...list...of things to do, and places to visit, and people to see over the next couple weeks, honestly its going to be hard to find time to sleep knowing his militaristic tendencies.”

Your face softened and you picked at a piece of fabric on the blanket, watching him. The morning air was cool and your cheeks were flushed, you could feel it. The mist was starting to creep down through the tree line closer to you, but you could only see that through your peripherals. Your entire line of vision was consumed by Rudy’s light grey long sleeve shirt and red and white trucker hat, two pieces he had left home with 4 years ago.

“What?” He asked quietly after a few minutes of your eyes focussed on him.

“Nothing, sorry. Nothing” You looked at your feet before looking out over the water and back to him. “It’s just...weird seeing you here. I don’t know, I mean we’ve hardly talked for more than 5 minutes over the last couple years and now you’re sitting beside me. It feels like yesterday but, so much has ...changed...since the last time you were on this beach.” 

You recalled the memory of him standing in front of you, hands in his pockets, telling you he was leaving the next morning, he had booked an earlier flight than originally planned. It had been pouring rain and he had come to say goodbye, but you were heartbroken and couldn’t say it back. He planted a kiss on your forehead after hugging you, then disappeared down the trail in his hiking boots and backwards hat. You sat down on a log when he left and didn’t get back up until the next day. You hadn’t gone to the ferry to say goodbye. You always regretted that.

You looked back at Rudy now, and found him looking at you with an expression of concern.

“What?” You asked apprehensively

“You look...different” he said gently, his eyes staying on your face.

He knew about the specialists and the “health scare” as you had called it, so it wasn’t as if any of this was a surprise to him...but you figured it might be weird seeing you in person, looking the way you did, for the first time. You chewed on your bottom lip and forced out a pleasant smile, looking down at the sand and fiddling with a pebble.

“Well, you know...a lot can change in 4 years” You said quietly. He was watching you closely now, waiting. You tried to shove off his inquiring glance and inquisitive silence by diverting the conversation back to him.

“You, on the other hand, look completely the same and I am tremendously disappointed. Where is your movie star outfit and your entourage of big men in black suits?” You joked, bumping his shoulder. He smiled and looked down, shaking his head.

“I’m not a movie star” He said quietly, picking at the sand around his feet.

“Really? Has anyone told your dad that?” You laughed. Rudy laughed too, then leaned back onto his elbows and tipped his head back, the sun kissing his skin.

He was so much more tan than he had ever been living in Alaska. His skin was glowing and his hair was lightened on the tips, as if he had just walked off a beach in the Caribbean. You scanned him from head to toe, noting that his jaw wasn’t the only thing that had gotten more...defined. He had always been fit, but the way the fabric of his shirt fell in the crevices between his abs, outlining his 8-pack, was more...noticeable, than you remembered it.

“How are you, though. Really.” He looked up at the side of your head and waited for you to speak. You blinked and looked away, trying to swallow but failing, resulting in a coughing spasm to clear your throat.

You didn’t want to get into it now, he had just gotten home, and for some reason he had come to see you first out of everyone in town who would be just as happy to see him. The last thing either of you needed was to drag up the drama you had been engulfed in for the last few years.

“You know...good. Fine.” You nodded, throwing the pebble you had been playing with away and towards the water. “Working...spending a lot of time with my dad...he has some family from Germany here this weekend and I’ve been graced Captain for the trip...I guess Sylvan walked out on him a few days ago.”

Rudy nodded his head, knowing exactly who you were talking about. You had done the trips up the coast with your dad more times than you could count, Rudy had been on more than half of them with you.

“And sleeping on the beach? That a thing you do now?” He prodded, half seriously.

“Ha ha.” You retorted, grabbing another rock and throwing it into the water. It made a hollow plunk as bubbles surfaced. “No”

“Good”

“How are you? How is the City of Angels?”

You expected him to start gushing profusely about the warm weather and palm trees, or boast about all his friends, or brag about the constant flow of jobs he being getting offered since his TV show blew up internationally. Or ...maybe the money, if nothing else. Instead, he sat up and rested his arms on his knees, his face shadowed with something uneasy, a darkness in his eyes.

“Rude?” You asked quietly after a few long seconds of silence.

His eyes flicked to you briefly and he smiled shallowly before grabbing another rock and throwing it so hard into the water it created a small wave. He sighed deeply and shrugged his shoulders before turning to look at you. His voice was sad when he spoke.

“I needed to come home for a bit.” He looked deeply at you then, something heavy in your chest when you saw his eyes wet with tears. “I needed my friend.” 

The expression on his face and the way his shoulders seemed to sag forward hit you so hard that you impulsively leaned forward and buried him in a hug, feeling him relax slightly before his shoulders started to rock and you felt him hiccup. He was crying.

“Rude-“ You started, feeling him squeeze you tighter as you rubbed his back slowly. “What’s going on...”

He shook his head in your shoulder and kept his face buried, still hugging you tightly. You felt his hands move slowly up and down your back along your ribs, which lived just below the skin now. You didn’t think about how different your body looked and felt that often anymore...it had become the norm to everyone around you by this point. Now, as Rudy’s hands moved along your back, feeling your exposed ribs and spine, exploring them with his fingers as if he was feeling them for the first time (which he sorta was), you remembered just how different your last hug with him had felt. You were a different person then.

After a few moments of silence he brought his face out and rested his chin on your shoulder, his breathing slow in your embrace. He sniffed before speaking.

“I never appreciated this place the way I should have, you know? I never appreciated any of this the way I should have.” He said darkly. You understood his meaning.

You broke the hug, against his opposition, and leaned back far enough to look at his face, your hands moving to his cheeks. Seeing him so sad and so unlike his usual light and happy self rocked you, you felt a lump in your throat. Your thumbs stroked the skin under his eyes.

“What is going on?” You begged, praying he would open up and explain what had him so wrapped up and overwhelmed. He dipped his head into your palm and closed his eyes, then pushed out a smile before grabbing each other your hands and pulling them into his lap, squeezing them.

“Its just good to be home, I really missed it.” He whispered, his eyes darting back and forth with your own and scanning your face. “I missed you.”

You frowned and shook your head lightly, he pulled you into another hug before standing up and offering his hand to help you get up.

“Now what do you say we go see my parents and steal some breakfast?” He smiled, wiping his face and blinking the brief darkness away.

You nodded silently, bending down to collect your stuff. Rudy grabbed the empty cans and shoved them in his pockets, helping you fold the blanket up. You walked side by side down the beach towards the trailhead back to the parking lot. You could feel Rudy’s gaze on you every few seconds, his towering 6ft stature always creating shadows over you.

“How long are you staying?” You finally broke the silence, looking up at him over your shoulder. He shrugged.

“Depends...a few weeks for sure. Probably months. Haven’t nailed down the details with my agent yet...but so far I don't have to be back in LA until the fall.”

“So we have some time?” Your voice sounded sheepish and small. Rudy looked down at you and something flashed across his face before he nodded and slung an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ya, we have some time.”

You rounded the corner then and emerged from the trail into the parking lot, staring at your cars for a second. Rudy looked at your car and you could see him inhale deeply, smiling beside you.

“My door handle still broken?” He asked, wandering around to inspect the passenger side. 

You nodded, smiling. My door. He hadn’t been in your car in 4 years, but he still referred to the passenger side as his own. It was like everything had changed and nothing had changed at the same time. He walked back and passed you the beach blanket.

“Ill meet you there?” You shifted on your feet as he pulled his keys out of his pocket.

“See you in 5” He winked then walked towards his rental car, flipping his sunglasses on before climbing in the drivers seat.

You watched him peel out of the parking lot and onto the road that both of you had driven so many times you could practically drive it with your eyes closed. Waving once, you climbed into your own car, closing the door and releasing the breath you had been holding since you woke up. When you had given yourself a few seconds to regain your senses, you started your car and took off down the road, following the boy you had followed your whole life.

___________________________________________________

Tag List: @bluebirdsbluebells​, @sunshinemadds​, @lovelymaybankk​, @poguestyleskye​, @alexa-playafricabytoto, @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch

[waywardbeanie]

A Man of Letters - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader Summary: It started as a simple hunt for Sam and Dean Winchester. Dean didn’t realize that this single case would change his life forever. Now they are on the biggest mission of their lives, and without the use of cellphones, the only way he can communicate with the love of his life is through old fashioned letter writing. He has done everything in his power to keep her safe, but will it be enough? Word Count: 6931 ish

Series Warnings: Language, slow burn, angst, smut, alcohol consumption, fluff, SPN typical violence (individual chapters will contain relevant warnings) a little meta Chapter Warning: humor (Is that really a warning?) and a little bit of sweet.(Always), angst, spicy (smut), unprotected (ish) sex

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has read so far, thank you for sticking with me!  All of the comments and reblogs mean so very much! THANK YOU!

Thank you to my beta’s @winchest09 and @whatareyousearchingfordean​ without them I would be sunk!

MASTERLIST A Man of Letters

If you’d like to be tagged, my list is open. Just send me an ask HERE: **Make sure you check out the playlist, it is updated every chapter and an essential part of the story**

Spotify Playlist : A Man of Letters

Catch up here >>>>>>> A Man of Letters Masterlist

This series is ongoing!

No Gif’s are mine

                                   Dean “Tongue Magician” Winchester                                                     PO Box 323                                               Sioux Falls, SD 57101

Dear D,

You were right, I got both letters the same day. It was a really nice surprise. I hope that “Sam” likes the brownies. I’m sure they are stale, but I made enough for everyone, so please share them because I know they are for you. Sam literally eats one brownie when I make them. Work has picked up, and my schedule is full most days. I’m happy to be busy when you are gone, it makes the days go by faster, but my bed is too big and empty without you. I’ve slept on the couch a few times since you’ve been gone, I just leave the pillows on, and I can almost convince myself you are here.

I was thinking about the couch night, but now you have me thinking about the bed night, and damn, you are too far away to dwell on that for too long! Also, do not talk to me about me moaning your name in letters because I swear to God I will write you a note that you will have you locking yourself in Baby to read!

Things are pretty quiet here as usual. I went to the farmers market today and bought vegetables. I’m trying to figure out some new recipes to try. I know you said that you were up for anything, just no more butter beans because they taste like mud (which, for the record, they do not!), so we will see what I can do. I saw Mark from the garage there, and he told me to tell you “Hello” and that he is almost finished with the body of the 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda. He wondered when you would be back because he could use your help with the new paint job. I told him that the job you had was going to last longer than most but that I’m sure as soon as you got into town that you would help him.

D, I know we talked about the future before, but are you sure you want to walk away? I’m here no matter what, I’m not going anywhere. You need to be sure this is what you want to do for you. With that being said, I am selfish enough to say I want nothing more than to fall asleep in your arms every night and to wake up next to you each morning. I’m glad you wrote it in a letter because I can read it over and over. Sometimes, when you are gone, I just start questioning things and can be a bit insecure about all of it, but you knew that already.

I guess I should wrap this up, I’m sorry you guys are doing more research, but, as always it will pay off in the end. I’m not surprised you set up training for everyone, that is definitely your thing, and it gives you an excuse not to read those dusty books. You guys be safe and come back soon. I miss your face.

I Love You, Your Initial

3 Years Ago

They were a little over halfway back to the bunker, driving through Hastings, Nebraska, and Sam started to worry. Dean had not spoken 5 words this entire trip. He didn’t even want snacks when they stopped for gas. They have been driving for almost two hours, the radio on low, the only thing consistent is the tapping of his thumb on the top of the steering wheel, lost in his own thoughts.

“Dean.” He broke the silence

“Huh?” pulling himself from his thoughts, glancing at Sam.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What? Nothing,” raising his eyebrows, he shook his head briefly.

Flicking his eyes to the backseat, Sam confirmed the vamp was still out cold. “Ok, I’ll start. I know that you knew where these vamps were hiding out long before I told you. Instead of helping me, you continued to point me in the wrong direction.”

He rubbed his hand down his face with equal amounts of irritation and embarrassment. “Sammy, it’s not like that I-,”

Annoyed Sam cut him off, “Dude, it is exactly like that, but the funny part is I’m not even mad anymore.”

“Fine, you know I don’t want to talk about this, but you get one question and one answer and don’t get all chick flick about it either because that’s not happening.”

“Great,” Sam smirked, “What’s Y/N’s favorite color?”

Without missing a beat, Dean answered, “It’s a tie between navy blue and dark grey.”

Sam threw his head back with a laugh. Dean’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile, turning up the radio as “Ramblin’ Man” by The Allman Brothers blared through the speakers. Laying his foot on the gas pedal, a little heavier to get back to the bunker to get answers from the comatose vamp tied up in the back seat. 

Dean and Sam had left Y/N’s house 2 days ago. The first 24 hours she didn’t go anywhere without her phone, that got old quickly. She began to feel like it was a leash; finally, she went about her day and left it plugged in on her nightstand. Today was Saturday, she didn’t have any clients this morning; instead, it was all the things to catch up from the week. Mowing the lawn, cleaning the house, grocery shopping, stripping the sheets, and doing laundry.

She put her hair in a messy bun, threw on her Neil Diamond t-shirt with denim shorts, grabbed her BlueTooth headphones, linking them to her tablet, and set it outside on the deck and connected it to her playlist. Greta Van Fleet’s “Highway Tune” burst into her ears as she yanked the pulley to start the lawnmower. She chuckled to herself as she began to mow the backyard. Dean had mentioned a few times that he wanted to do it, but that was not going to happen. She had put them both out enough, and besides, it was a good exercise for her. Finishing up in a little over an hour, she put away the lawn equipment, grabbed a bottle of water from the “beer fridge” in the garage, and jumped in the Jeep. She wanted to head to two destinations,  the grocery store and the gardening store to buy  more plants and flowers. Working in the yard kept her hands and mind busy, and right now, that is precisely what she needed.

As she was perusing the freezer section for her favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor,  she ran into her friend Jennifer. They had met just a few weeks after Y/N moved to Lincoln and they had become fast friends. After a brief hug, they agreed to meet later on that evening for drinks on Y/N’s back deck to catch up. She stopped and bought some more daisies and headed back home, looking forward to spending the evening with her friend.

After planting the flowers, she ran in the house to quickly shower and wash her hair, scrubbing off the dirt and grime of the day. Finishing up, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off when she noticed Dean’s black flannel hanging on the door hook. He’d accidentally left it behind the last time he was here. Walking over, she brushed her fingers lightly over the material and as she brought it closer to her nose, she could still smell his woodsy maleness clinging to the fabric. She rested her head against the door, thinking about how much she missed him already and realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

With a sigh, she left the bathroom walking down the hall to her bedroom, pausing she looked at her phone lying face down on the nightstand. She was torn; part of her wanted to see if Dean had called or texted, but an overwhelming part did not want to be disappointed when he didn’t. She made a deal with herself, she would get dressed and dry her hair, and THEN she would look at it. Y/N did silly bargaining things like this with herself all the time, almost like bargaining with the Gods to turn the odds in her favor. She pulled on a pair of grey shorts and a and white Garth Brooks shirt, chuckling to herself, thinking of when Dean accused her of having more band shirts than he did.

Sitting in front of her mirror with her flat paddle brush, she began drying her hair in pieces, after finishing she put on a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and colored lip balm. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the results, standing with a huff, Y/N went to check her phone. Picking it up, she expected nothing. However, she slowly lowered herself to the bed as her screen lit up, her eyes growing wider with every missed notification.

Dean 3 Missed calls

Dean: Hey, Babe, been crazy with you know what. Just wanted to hear your voice.

Dean 4 Missed calls

Sam 1 Missed call

Dean: Y/N. Is everything ok? Call me when you get this.

Dean 2 Missed calls Sam: Tink, would you PLEASE call Dean? I might kill him soon if you don’t. Jennifer 1 Missed Call Dean: ok, I’m trying to keep my shit together right now, I’m FUCKING WORRIED. I’m just telling you right now if I don’t hear back from you in 2 hours I’m driving back.

Just then, her phone lit up in her hand, Dean’s face popping up, the ring scaring her so bad she dropped the phone. She scrambled to pick it up, pushing the speaker button quickly. “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Dean’s voice boomed through the speaker.

“Hey Dean, I’m so sorry-” she began.

Dean cut her off, “Are you good? Jesus Fuck, I was like a crazy person down here. You’re good, right? I mean you are answering the phone, so you’re alright. Right?” She could hear a slamming car door in the background.

“Dean!” she raised her voice to get his attention, “I’m fine I just left my phone plugged in all day, and I was busy.”

“Shit, right.” She could hear him running his hand over his scruff, “I’m sorry Babe, I know, I sound like a lunatic. We just haven’t been able to get anything out of this vamp, when you didn’t answer, my mind just started going to a dark place.”

“I promise, I’m really fine,” she soothed, “I mowed the lawn and went to the grocery and bought some flowers; just busy. I even saw my friend Jennifer today. She’s coming over tonight, and we are going to sit on the deck and have a couple beers.”

“Honestly, that sounds great Y/N/N, I just wanted to hear your voice and tell you to be careful. We don’t know who sent those vamps yet, and until we do, you just need to watch your back.”

She didn’t want to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t help it. There were only so many ways she could reassure him, she didn’t want Dean to worry about her, Y/N just living her life, maybe she was naïve. Hell, no one has worried about her since her parents’ death. It was a strange feeling.

“Dean,” she began, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

She could almost hear the sheepish shrug in his voice “I don’t know” pulling himself out of that quickly, his voice became stronger. “Could you just carry your damn phone with you?”

Dean heard the laughter through his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile, hearing her laugh warmed his insides. “Of course, I will! I do have a question for you, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Were you really going to drive back up here if I didn’t answer?” The silence on the phone went on for so long that she had to double-check to be sure they weren’t disconnected. “Dean?”

“Yeah,” came a gruff reply, “I was in the garage when I thought I would call you one more time before I left.”

“Oh Dean, I’m sorry.” Guilt niggled at her as she thought of him dropping his plans.

“Y/N, maybe I overreacted a little, but I’m so far away that, if shit went down, It would take me 2 ½ hours to get there.”

“I’m just living, Dean, but I will be careful, I swear. I don’t want you to worry about me. You have enough to worry about without adding me to it.”

Oh, Babe,” he chuckled, “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“So, I thought I would come back up on Thursday night if that’s ok.”

“More than,” she replied with a soft smile, “I miss you.”

“Same,” he replied gruffly, “see you Thursday, then.”

“Bye, Dean,” she whispered. She pushed the end button and flopped back on the bed, heart pounding in her chest.

She missed him, but the idea of him coming back had her stomach in knots. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to have sex with him when he came back. She could barely keep herself in check before he left. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with anyone, what if she forgot how? She had been fine just shoving her sexual frustrations to the bottom of her priority list, life got its hooks in her, she was more interested in getting her business off the ground, fixing up her house and making a life for herself. He was the first person in recent memory who made her look twice. Now he was coming to stay with her. This time she knew that the couch was not going to cut it.

Dean’s POV

Bracing his forearms on the driver’s side window frame of Baby, he tossed the phone on her roof with a sigh. It’s taking all of his internal strength not to jump in the car right now and head back to Lincoln. In his mind, he knows that she is safe, but his chest still ached. This is why he didn’t involve himself in this type of bullshit. Sticking to the random hook up fitted his life. What the hell was he thinking, dragging her deeper into a life that she has no business being within a 1000 feet of? She is too sweet to get involved in his shit show of life. He was tossed into it the day his mother was roasted on the ceiling. Y/N deserves so much better than he could ever offer. If he had a brain cell left in his head, he would man up and text her right now to tell her to forget it, he wasn’t returning to Lincoln. He and Sam would track down whoever was after her and take care of it. Y/N could move on with her life and forget all about him and the nightmare life he leads. Exhaling loudly, Dean grabs his phone, shoving it in his pocket and pushing himself off the car, the adrenaline of his fear and anger  still pumping through his veins. He knows she deserves better than a text. When he drives up on Thursday, he will tell her that it’s best for her.

Eventually, the stabbing pain in his chest will go away and if it doesn’t,  maybe this is just what it would be like now that he really knows what he will be missing when he walks away.

Jennifer and Y/N embrace at the door when she arrives promptly at 7:00. It was an evening of a few too many beers and laughs. Jennifer switched to Diet Coke after two. Although she was a little more than tipsy, she was careful to keep most of the secrets when Jennifer started to question her about the black muscle car parked at her house when Y/N was MIA for a few weeks, no one knew she was hiding a bruised and swollen face.

Travis had kept his mouth shut as promised. Sam and Dean stopped in to talk to him about the “guys” who followed Y/N home and assaulted her. He wanted his bar as far away from that controversy as possible.

They ended the evening with more hugs and promises to get together again soon, Y/N made her way to her bedroom, phone in hand, drunkenly stripping off clothes all the way down the hall. Climbing under the sheets, she started to plug in her phone but changed her mind.

Dean’s phone buzzed with a text message at 1:17 a.m, he was sitting in the library nursing his third whiskey of the night. Picking up his phone, he thumbed it open to see it was a text from Y/N. As he opened the message, his mouth slowly began to gape open. Staring back at him was a selfie. Y/N was laying down, her hair fanning around her on the pillow, a sweet smile playing on her lips. He could see the curve of her breasts, turning the phone back and forth he was sure he could have seen her nipple. She was totally naked in that massive bed without him. The simple text accompanying the picture is what truly did him in.

Babe: Wish you were here

“FUCK!” he groaned loudly, closing his eyes, throwing his head back

Thursday came in a blink of an eye for both of them. Dean had texted Y/N to let him know he would be leaving around noon. It was 10:00 a.m. now, his anxiousness already kicked into high gear. Sam walked into the war room, a mug of coffee in his hand, still in his blue and black plaid pajama pants with a grey long sleeved T-Shirt. His hair pointing in every direction, bare feet smacking against the tile floor. He stopped abruptly when he spotted Dean pacing a path back and forth. He was already dressed in jeans and boots topped with a dark grey T-shirt underneath a burgundy and grey flannel. An empty coffee cup sitting on the map table along with his duffle bag. 

“Dean?” he questioned.

“Yeah?” he responded, continuing to pace.

“What’s the deal? What are you doing?” He fully entered the room, placing his mug on the table studying Dean.

“I’m thinking! What are you doing? I just got shit on my mind,” he barked back, continuing to pace, stopping to look at his phone, before beginning his walk again.

“Aren’t you going to Y/N’s today?” Sam questioned, “I thought you would be happy. Instead, you’re stalking around here like an angry bear.”

Dean’s angry gaze snapped to Sam, confirming his characterization. “I’m coming back tonight.” Sam paused in the middle of sitting, standing back up, “Dude, WHAT?”

Running his hand roughly over his face, he sighed. “I got some space; after the other day, when I couldn’t reach her, it made me realize she doesn’t need to be dragged into this life. It’s too much.”

“And there it is” Sam threw his hands in the air, frustration written all over his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean growled.

“Every.Fucking.Time,” he emphasized each word pointing his finger at the older Winchester. "Whenever you find a little bit of happiness, you start sabotaging yourself, it’s always something. This life sucks, you’re too busy, it’s the apocalypse, someone or something needs you more, you just shut down and tell yourself it’s not worth the trouble.”

Dean just stared at his brother as he continued to ramble.

“Just once Dean, just one time can you put yourself first?” he gestured toward him. “Yes, I know Y/N was a case and you are pissed off that the vamp won’t talk, you’re worried that your life is going to splash on her. She is stronger than you think, you think you need to pile all of this on your shoulders, you don’t. I have never seen you, my own brother, let his guard down around someone before.”

“She’s too good Sammy, she doesn’t deserve-”

“What?” Sam questioned, gathering momentum again “She doesn’t deserve to be happy? She doesn’t deserve to have someone care about her? You-” he pointed at him once more, “are both crazy about each other. I could see it on your faces every time I was in the same room with you both. You have earned the right to be happy.”

Dean crossed his arms contemplating Sam.

“Just do me a favor, would you?” Go up there and just see her, stay the three days, like you planned, see what happens. Promise me you won’t go up there halfcocked trying to tell her, like you always do to everyone, that you know what’s best. Leave your bullshit baggage here and just go see her.”

“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, hiking his bag on his shoulder as he picked his keys off the table, striding towards the garage, “I think you need to mind your own damn business.”

“When has that ever happened before?” Sam called after him.

As Dean began to drive to Lincoln, Y/N was running around nerves and excitement, twisting her gut. She had showered, shaved everywhere, lotioned up, fixed her hair, letting it flow down her back instead of the ponytail or messy bun look and she had applied light makeup. Looking down at her bed, almost every article of clothing she owned was spread out. Y/N picked up all of her dresses and hung them back in the closet. If she wore a dress, he would know that she was trying too hard.

“This is ridiculous!” she thought to herself as she started shoving clothes back into drawers. She settled on a pair of denim cutoff shorts and a sleeveless black and white blouse that cut in at the shoulders and tied at the back of her neck, flowing to mid-hip. Picking up the remainder of clothes strewn about, she muscled them back in her closet, slamming the door. She checked herself out in the mirror, happy with the tan legs and arms on display. Walking out into the living room, she started to feel fidgety. She had serious thoughts about going to work in the garden, but she would have to shower all over again. After wandering around the house, she checked her phone at 1:00. She had two hours left. Flopping on the couch, she flipped on the television and began channel surfing, trying to zone out.

As Dean sped up the highway to Y/N’s house, the conversation with Sam this morning was a consistent loop in his head. Actually, it was more of a Sam tirade. Dean knew what was best, right? Nip it in the bud before one of them could get hurt. She really wasn’t what he needed in his life, he told himself. Unattached works best for him. An after bar closing fling to get rid of the itch, then back to living life. No expectations, no texts, no I’ll-call-you-laters. But if that is what he wanted, then why did it make him sad and angry all at once?

Twenty minutes outside of Lincoln, he stopped for gas, seriously considering calling her to say he couldn’t make it. Sure, she might be disappointed, but she would get over it, wouldn’t she? No, he chastised himself, he would do the right thing and tell her face to face. He owed her that, at the very least. Looking at his watch, he realized that he had made a good time between leaving the bunker early so Sam would quit bitching at him and no traffic or cops on the 2 lane highway. He would be at her house at 1:30. Jumping back in Baby, he cranked the ignition “The Real Love” by Bob Seger blared through the speakers, it was a slow one, he reached down to flip the channel but paused but as the lyrics began to speak to him.

I think I’ve found The Real Love Genuine and true I think it’s really come my way today Babe I think it’s really you

I remember moments looking in your eyes Could have sworn I saw the spark of love babe Flickering inside

I’ve been around this track And the only thing I lack Is The Real Love

Placing his hand back on the wheel, his knuckles turned white as he squeezed, the pressure in his chest overwhelming him as he blinked back tears. His mind and heart screaming, “Don’t do this!!” Angrily, he threw Baby in drive, grinding his teeth together and snapping his jaw. He jammed his foot on the gas, leaving tire treads next to the pumps. The Impala fishtailing as he exited to the street heading towards Y/N house. The pain crashing through him as the verses washed over him.

Every time I see you, every time we touch I can feel the way you feel for me Babe And it means so much

And every time you look at me It’s just the way it all should be In The Real Love

Oh darlin’ darlin’ darlin’ Stay with me stay I long to see you in the morning sun Everyday Everyday

So until that moment When I take your hand I’m gonna try to do my very best Babe To prove that I’m your man

I’m gonna do my very best I’m not gonna rest Until we’ve got The Real Love

He was in agony, convincing himself it was what he deserved thinking about what he was about to do.

Hearing the deep rumble of Baby, Y/N sat up on the couch, flinging the remote on the coffee table. Her heart began thundering in her chest as she looked at the clock 1:28 p.m. “It’s too early, it can’t be him. He said 3:00” she thought. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her, almost unwilling, afraid to be disappointed that it was another car, but she knew. She would recognize the sound of his car anywhere. The screen door opened with a squeak as she stepped on the porch as Dean drove up the driveway. She shoved her hands in her front pockets to appear calm, but she could not wipe the huge grin off her face nor the heat burning her cheeks.

Dean turned off Baby and sat there for a moment, squeezing the steering wheel, flexing his jaw as he tried to get his bearings together. He knew what had to be done, he couldn’t draw it out. “Just cut to the chase, short and sweet. Get it over and done  with and let her live in peace,” he told himself, until he glanced out the window and saw her on the porch.

The ice that he tried to form around his heart cracked wide as he looked at her beautiful, smiling face. Never in his life could he recall someone so thrilled to see him. She was pure sunshine that spread light through him as he looked at her. Pulling the metal handle, he got out of the car, slamming the heavy door behind him. Her hands were in her pockets, but she was so happy she was almost vibrating. As he walked towards her, all he could hear was Sam’s voice yelling in his head, “leave your bullshit baggage here! You have earned the right to be happy!”

Each step that he took melted the ice a little more, stopping in the grass, he matched her smile and opened his arms. She was off the porch running to him. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist as he locked her in his embrace. She buried her face in his neck as he nuzzled her hair, breathing her in.

“You know,” she whispered, smiling into his neck, “when I thought about today, I always imagined I would have been much cooler.”

Chuckling, he pressed a kiss against her temple, “I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.” The truth is, had she been calm, cool, and collected, Dean would not have questioned his stupidity until he was headed back to the bunker. By that time, it would have been too late, and he would have had to live with his decision no matter what the ache in his chest told him.

Setting her on her feet, bending, he pressed a firm kiss on her lips, lingering as the last bits of ice melted around his heart. He wanted to tell her what he had driven up here to do; he just couldn’t yet. What if he scared her? What if she stopped looking at him with unconditional acceptance? After everything he had shared with her, the killings, the monsters, and the Mark of Cain, she rolled with it all as if he was telling her how he changed the oil in Baby. She was interested and asked questions but never judged him. Telling her most of his secrets on the couch was never what he meant to do, but she pulled it out without even trying. What if telling her he was going to look at him differently? He couldn’t handle that, his chest hurt to even think that. What if it broke what has been so carefully built. What if it broke her? He couldn’t do that. The thought that he was actually going to come up here and tell her it was over made him feel lightheaded.

Pulling back, she took his hand in hers with a smile. “I hope you’re hungry tonight. I made steak, twice baked potato, corn on the cob and...” she drawled, wiggling her eyebrows, “pecan pie.”

“Wow,” he chuckled “you didn’t have to do all of that.”

She lifted one shoulder, slightly embarrassed, “I wanted to.”

Squeezing her hand, he murmured, “thank you.”

Smiling bright at him, she opened the screen door, Y/N entering and pulling Dean with her. The house smelled like pie. He didn’t realize how much he missed being with her in her space until he walked in the door. The smell, the feeling of hominess solidified his decision to listen to Sam’s advice. Maybe his little brother knew something, after all.

Dean grabbed two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, walking out on the back deck. Just being close to her, he could feel a weight lifting off him as he comfortably settled back into their little routine. He would always twist off the bottle top for her and hand her the beer. Even if she brought the beers out, she gave them both to him. When both bottles were open, they would clink the bottlenecks together before their first drink. It was the little things like this that made him ridiculously happy.

Sitting on the deck, they shared different things from the week, there were no awkward moments or pause in the conversation. It just flowed as it did on the couch. Dean tried to keep it light, telling funny stories about Sam as Y/N’s laughter rang out, filling him with a warmth he never knew he needed., She would reach out and touch him, brushing her fingers against his knee or grasping his arm when she was making a point. He looked forward to each touch, desire shuttering through him every time. As the afternoon slid into the evening, Dean would graze her upper arm with a smile, just to see her shiver. He felt powerful that it was his touch doing that to her.

Time flew by as the cold beers went down smoothly. Soon it was time to light the grill and cook up the steaks as she put together the side dishes. They decided to eat at the pub table on the deck, lighting the lanterns as the sun began to set and soft music played through the hidden speakers. Y/N watched Dean eat dinner as she moved the food around her plate. She watched him as they talked through dinner, either he wasn’t nervous or could chew through anything. She was hungry but only took a few bites here and there. The later it got, she began to get keyed up. She felt like she knew how the evening would end; however, her insecurities made her start to question everything. After dinner, they loaded the dishwasher and made coffee for both of them. It was very domestic, like all the pieces were snapping into place. Dean sat down his mug as the crisp sound of an acoustic guitar wafted through the sound system. “Give Me One Reason” by Tracy Chapman. The notes carried into the darkness as the deck was illuminated by the hanging lanterns.

Reaching out his hand he beckoned to Y/N, “dance with me.”

With a shy smile, she accepted his hand as he led her to the middle of the deck and took her in his arms. Her heart began to double-time in her chest as she looked into Dean’s eyes and saw the heat reflected back down on her. He pulled her close as they moved through the song and she could not help but to be struck by the lyrics.

Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Give me one reason to stay here And I'll turn right back around Said I don't want leave you lonely You got to make me change my mind

Ducking his head to brush his lips to hers, the sizzle that has built between them all night, ignites. He wants this woman more than he has ever wanted anyone in his life. In a rush of uncontrollable desire, Dean cups Y/N’s face and pulls her to him, crashing his lips greedily to hers. The first touch of his mouth on hers and she threw her arms around him, pressing her body against his. The intense desire exploded between them; the compelling need to claim her, lick her, have her, drove him to the brink of insanity. He opened her lips with his, his tongue sliding into her mouth, bringing out a throaty moan that almost pushed him over the edge. He glided his hand down her back, cupping one of her round cheeks with his palm as he roughly pulled her against his erection; she gasped with pleasure as she began to grind herself onto him, her own arousal dictating her actions.

Picking her up, she wrapped her legs around him as he walked them into the house, down the hall into the bedroom, their mouths only moving apart to gasp for air before devouring each other once more. The dance of their tongues did nothing to quench her thirst for him since they had initially started, and she found herself rubbing against him in an attempt to ease her aching core. Setting her down on her feet in front of the bed, she looked up to see Dean’s eyes had changed to a dark smoldering green; the lust reflected back to her, making her tremble with yearning.

“I need you so much,” he rasped.

“God, me too,” she whimpered.

A smile spread across his face as he hooked his index finger along the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down her tan legs to her ankles. On his knees in front of her, he placed a soft kiss on her belly button, his tongue flicking her hoop piercing.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs as her skin erupts in goosebumps, a shiver of excitement moving up her spine as she runs her hands through his soft brown hair.

Gently pushing her back on the bed, he pulled her to the edge, his mouth mere inches from her slick heat. Moving his face slightly, he brushed the inside of her thigh with his scruff, pulling a moan from her lips. She could feel his warm breath against her clit and began to squirm.

“Please Dean,” she begged. He lay his muscled forearm across her hips, pinning her to the bed.

“Shh,” he whispered as his eyes met hers, his intense look scorching her skin. “I want to look at you, I’ve done nothing but think about you like this for weeks, just want to enjoy the view for a moment.”

She let her head fall back on the mattress, laying her arm across her closed eyes, her body buzzing as it pleaded for relief. Every second that ticked by, the intensity coiled in her belly, convincing her that she will burst into flames any second. She jerked as she felt his flattened tongue lick upwards along her damp slit, teasing her. His lips stopped at her clit, humming in satisfaction.

“Jesus, Dean,” she moaned, grasping the sheets on either side of her, “I can’t do this, it’s too much,” she cried with frustration.

Chucking, he licked her again before swirling his tongue around her sweet spot. A sound ripped from her throat that was a mix between a whine and a curse. “That’s it, Y/N,” he growls against herm “let go, I want to feel you cum.”

“No, I want to feel you inside me.” Her arms stretched to reach him, but he leaned back, just out of reach.

“You will,” he promises “but I need this first.” His tongue delved into her wet sweetness as he buried two fingers inside her, coaxing her to climax. She felt the white-hot heat building inside her as he wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking one last time, hurdling her over the edge while crying out his name. Dean was relentless, lapping up everything Y/N had given him before he glanced up at her writhing form, his chin glistening in the dim light. It was a sight that made Y/N swallow hard, the man between her legs had given her an orgasm in less than a few minutes so her mind was reeling with else he had in store for her.

“I need you, Dean.” Those four words that bled from her lips sent Dean into a frenzy.

In haste, he removed his boots, socks, jeans, and boxers before he climbed up the mattress, pulling Y/N along with him. Situated in the middle of the bed, he settled between her legs, his hard length nudging at her. Resting his forearms on either side of her head, he brushed his lips over hers as she moved her hands to entwine her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. Her legs then wrapped around  his waist, urging him to enter her but he held back, his body taut with the effort.

“Protection?” he asks softly. “IUD,” she answered breathlessly, desperate for him to fill her. “Oh god.””

“It’s Dean” he husked playfully, his voice deep and gruff.  

Kissing down her neck; cupping her breast in his hand, he rolled her taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a hiss of pleasure rushing from her lips as he took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the bud before nipping it gently with his teeth. He moved to the other breast giving it equal treatment. Steadily he slowly made his way back up her body, peppering her skin with kisses as he reached her mouth, claiming her lips again in a searing kiss as he lined himself up. He slowly pushes his impressive shaft inside of her as her body stretches around his girth, tightly squeezing and slowly accommodating him.

“Y/N,” he breathes between clenched teeth, “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you feel so damn good.”

She murmured her approval as her hands wrapped around him, her fingers digging into his rippling back muscles with each thrust. She had fantasized about this so often, but the reality eclipses anything her imagination had come up with. His mouth moved down her exposed neck as her hands blindly explored his body. Their dual moans mingled in the bedroom as their sweat-slicked bodies met. She gripped his shoulders as they both barreled towards release.

“Babe, I’m so close,” he grits out, his rhythm stuttering. She plants her feet on the bed, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Dean!” she cries as another orgasm rips through her body. She comes undone, her insides clench and twist around him as she digs her fingers into his back as he feels her flutter around him. Groaning her name, he buries himself deep inside her, allowing euphoria to wash over him as he coated the inside of her walls.

Breathless, he nearly collapsed on top of her but managed to hold himself up on shaky arms as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair with a smile. He leaned down to place a sweet kiss on her mouth before laying on his back next to her as they both tried to catch their breath. Turning his head, he saw her blissed-out face staring back at him with a sleepy smile playing on her lips. He gathered her still shaking body to him, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his hard chest with a satisfied sigh. She snuggled into him as he reached down to pull the sheet over them both falling into an exhausted sleep. He was so glad he didn’t listen to his own thoughts and allowed himself to enjoy being with her. The woman that had turned his life upside down.

Chapter 8

Tags: @winchest09​ @katehuntington​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​ @superfanficnatural​ @deanwanddamons​ @janicho88​ @talesmaniac89​ @anathewierdo​ @compresshischest09​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @jensengirl83​ @this-is-what-im-reduced-to​ @ellewritesfix05​ @moron225​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @unicornqu33n17​ @swinchester27​@ @deans-baby-momma​ @squirrelnotsam​ @clumsy-nerd104​ @sarahbaker2010​ @supernatural-love14​ @akshi8278​ @lyarr24​ @angelhearts1012​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @cookiechipdough​ @lady-pswrld​ @peachyafshawn​ @notan-applepielife​

[taxicabinmemphis]

So idk how to makeup so we doin just nails haha also i haven’t gotten a manicure in years and even then it was rare so forgive the time skip

(cw making out i think idk how kissing works)

A door opening loudly gained Logan’s undivided attention. Roman had swung his door open and was holding onto the door frame like he was a man lamenting love at a lamppost. He gave Logan a huge smile.

“Logan! Are you busy?”

“A little. I am currently working on Thomas’ schedule for the Tuesday after next.”

“Wonderful! You needn’t do that right now, as that is almost two weeks away! Come with me.”

“Roman, I’d really rather-”

Roman shook his head no, walking over to the logical side. He pulled Logan up from where he was sitting by the tie and started to drag him out of the room.

Logan swatted Roman’s hands away and walked next to the princely side.

“Where are we going?”

“My room,” Roman replied, dragging out the last word.

“For what purpose?”

“Does everything need to have a purpose, Logan? Can we not spend time together as fellow sides?” Roman asked, sounding exasperated.

“If there is no discernible purpose to visiting your room then I request you allow me return to mine and continue working on the schedule.”

“Two weeks, Logan. We have two weeks till you have to be done with that. You’ve been working for a few hours, you should take a break to spend time with me!” Roman stopped at the door to his room.

Logan sighed. “And what will we do?”

Roman opened the door to his room dramatically. “Manicures!”

Logan’s eyes widened and he turned around, starting to walk away. “No.”

Roman immediately reached out and grabbed Logan by the shirt collar, dragging him into his room. Roman then closed and locked the door.

“You could have choked me!” Logan exclaimed, rubbing at his neck. “Why would you do that?!”

Roman shrugged. “I wanna paint nails with you.”

“I assure you that any other side would be more tolerant of this activity than me.”

“Yeah, but I wanna paint nails with you. You. Not Janus or Patton or whatever. Wouldn’t my company make it more bearable?”

“Trust me when I say it would only make it worse.”

Roman walked over to the middle of his room where he had set up everything needed for a manicure.

“Too bad.” He flopped onto a beanbag. “We’re doing it.”

“I could sink out right-”

“Please,” Roman begged, giving him puppy-dog eyes.

Logan stared into Roman’s eyes for a minute. While Patton’s puppy-dog eyes were the hardest to resist, Roman’s were easy to fall for too and Logan might have had an itsy-bitsy, totally-not-huge-at-all crush on him. So, he sighed in defeat. He walked over to Roman and sat on the beanbag across from him.

“I have no idea how this works,” Logan stated.

Roman smiled. “I thought so. I’m gonna admit that I might have painted my nails before I came and got you because I figured you wouldn’t know how to do my nails. So, give me your left hand, please.”

---time skip cuz idk how manicures work---

Logan rested his hands on the short table they were at and watched as Roman retrieved the colored nail polish.

“Do I get to choose what color?” Logan asked, only half-sarcastic.

Roman shook his head. “No.”

Logan sighed. “I swear if you give me every color of the rainbow and sparkle it with glitter I will-”

Roman slammed the indigo nail polish onto the table in front of Logan. Logan tilted his head, looking at Roman sheepishly.

“Indigo is fine.”

“Even if it wasn’t, you’d be getting it anyway.”

Logan snorted. He watched as Roman delicately took his hand, the creative side unnecessarily running his thumb over the back of Logan’s hand. Logan resisted the urge to physically shudder, fixating his gaze on Roman’s face instead. It was screwed into focus as he applied the indigo to Logan’s hand. His gaze was squinted, his tongue was out to the side, and his eyebrows were furrowed.

“Roman?” Logan asked quietly.

“Mm hmm?”

“Why did you bring me here?”

“To paint your nails.”

“Yeah, but why?”

Roman paused for a quick second, taking a half-second glance up at Logan. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

Logan stopped a blush from appearing on his face even though Roman likely wouldn’t see it. “Why nail-painting?”

Roman didn’t answer, only moving to the next hand.

Logan settled on watching Roman’s practiced movements; it was clear he had done this many times. Logan noticed Roman’s nails, which were were red except for the index fingers which had the outline of an indigo heart drawn on them. Roman's nails had been done with near perfection and Logan, despite his estrangement to the art of the manicure, couldn’t help but admire them.

“Your nail-painting skills are admirable, Roman,” Logan complimented. “I suspect you have done this many times before?”

Roman smiled slightly. “I have, Specs. And thank you.”

Logan nodded, frowning as he noticed how Roman was quick to end conversation. “Are you alright, Roman? You are rarely this silent.” Roman all but flinched, and Logan backtracked. “Not that it’s a bad thing, and I would likely relish your quiet state in any other situation, but you expressed the desire to spend time together so-”

“I’m quite alright, Logan,” Roman interrupted. “Just lost in thought as well as focused. How has your day been?”

The corners of Logan’s lips twitched. “Fairly average, except for this. I was looking over the script you gave me last night a couple hours before you brought me here. I think I will finish edits and suggestions by afternoon tomorrow.”

“And do you have an objection to every other sentence?” Roman asked jokingly.

“No, I have found it to be of high quality so far.”

“Thank you, Logan,” Roman said, the compliment making him smile.

“How about your day? I hope it has treated you well.”

“Well enough,” Roman stated. “I woke up a bit late, started brainstorming a short video, and then painted my nails, and now I’m here with you. So, each activity better than the last, I guess.”

“I am pleased my company has proved to be adequate by your standards.”

Roman laughed. “’Adequate’, oh, Logan. Your company is enjoyable and a privilege to be graced with, not adequate.”

Logan blushed.

“There! Now, for the red,” Roman said excitedly, putting away the indigo nail polish.

“The red?”

Roman got out the red nail polish and set it on the table. “The red.”

“You’ve done indigo already.”

“Observant,” Roman remarked sarcastically.

Roman snapped his fingers over Logan’s hands, and the nail polish immediately appeared to have dried. Logan then admired his right hand while Roman picked up his left.

After a moment, Roman set Logan’s hand down. “Alright, give me your right.”

Logan held out his right hand to Roman and looked at his left. Roman had drawn an outline of a red heart on his index finger. Logan’s lips parted, wanting to gasp but also not wanting to disturb Roman.

“Alright, time for the top coat.”

Logan drew his hand back and saw that Roman had put an outline of a red heart on his right index finger as well.

Roman snapped his fingers over Logan’s hands, drying the red hearts. He got out what Logan figured was used for a top coating, and started to apply it to Logan’s nails.

As he did so, he noticed the similarities between his and Roman’s nails. Roman’s nails were the same red used for the hearts on Logan’s index fingers, and the hearts on Roman’s indexes were the same indigo on Logan’s nails.

Logan ducked his head to blush. Indigo was his color and red was Roman’s. An indigo heart on Roman’s nails could be symbolic in some form. And the red heart on Logan’s fingers—well, Logan could only dream it meant Roman felt for him romantically. He watched as Roman finished with the top coat.

Roman closed the bottle and set it down. He snapped his fingers over Logan’s hands, effectively drying them.

“At last, I have finished!” He grinned triumphantly.

Logan looked at his nails with admiration. Indigo was his color, and red was the color of his love, so he couldn’t complain.

“You have,” Logan agreed.

Roman looked at Logan hopefully. “Do you like them?”

Logan met Roman’s gaze. “You have done an impressive job on them, Roman.”

Roman squealed in glee, promptly covering his mouth when he realized how childish his action was.

But Logan just laughed fondly, covering his smile with his hands.

Roman looked at Logan with adoration, leaning over to table to get closer to the logical side. He took Logan’s hands from his mouth, prompting Logan to freeze, biting his lip.

“Don’t cover your smile, Logan.”

“Laughter is illogical.”

“But it’s normal,” Roman contradicted, and planted a kiss on his nose. “Anyway, my dear nerd, I suppose I have gotten my Logan fix for today, so I guess—” Roman seemed to have distaste for what he was suggesting “—I shall permit your leave, if you so desire.”

Logan’s face had reddened significantly from the kiss Roman had placed on his nose, and he couldn’t process anything for a moment.

“Roman?” he inquired shyly.

“Yes?”

“Why did you choose the colors you did?” Logan asked.

Roman didn’t respond for a second.

“I mean, I’d imagine you have a great deal at your disposal, and considering your over-the-top nature I would guess you would use as many as possible. However, you have only put two to use this entire day. Why is this?”

“Uh, Logan...”

“They’re our colors as well.” He looked at his nails again. “And while red is an appealing color, especially when it is used in relation to yourself, I don’t see how it relates to me like indigo does. Same with the indigo on your nails. Are we supposed to match? And if so, why?”

Logan could have been less direct, but he wanted to know why Roman had matched their nails. A heart could mean the most intimate of things and he didn’t want to figuratively live out his days in the dark.

Roman scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I thought it would be fun if we matched?” Roman offered, his voice sounding unsure. “I thought it would be cool and look nice?”

“And the hearts...”

Roman groaned and tugged at his hair. “I don’t know how...”

His eyes rested on Logan’s hands for a moment, an idea seeming to cross his mind. He took Logan’s right hand as a prince would a fair maiden and kissed the back of Logan’s hand. He then placed a kiss on the nail with the heart outline on it. Then, he pulled Logan up gently so the logical side was standing and took his other hand. Logan was flushing a deep red, but that would not deter Roman. He lifted Logan’s left hand to his lips and placed a kiss on the heart on his left index finger. He then slowly lowered Logan’s hand and stared Logan in the eyes.

Logan gulped, but said nothing.

“I hope that explains things for you,” Roman said softly, letting go of Logan’s hands and starting to walk out of the room.

Logan was still for a moment, still in shock, before he regained his senses and went after Roman. He stopped the prince as he approached his door.

“Roman.”

The prince turned.

Logan stood himself in front of Roman and took his hands. He raised Roman’s right hand to his lips and kissed the heart on his index finger. He brought Roman’s left to his lips and did the same. He lowered Roman’s hands slowly before meeting his eyes, anxious he did something wrong.

Roman stared at him for a few moments. His face was pink and his eyes were wide. They kept eye contact, before Roman decided to make a move.

He put his left hand on Logan’s shoulder and backed him into a wall beside the door. He placed the hand previously on Logan’s shoulder on the wall beside the intellectual’s head.

“May I kiss you?”

Logan nodded.

Roman wrapped his right arm around Logan’s waist immediately, pulling the logical side flush against him. He connected their lips in a searing kiss. Logan then wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck.

Roman took a step forward, pressing Logan harder against the wall but still having his body close to his. He took the hand that was on the wall and ran it through Logan’s hair as Logan wrapped a leg around Roman’s waist.

The two parted for air.

“You used nail polish to tell me you love me?”

“I don’t see you complaining.”

“Hmm, no.”

Logan reconnected their lips.

~

Yeah heh they love each other. This is for my friend who texted me the prompt. I hope y’all liked it!

[sassy-starker]

Jupiter

Word Count: 28,576

TW: Serious physical bullying (to the point where some might consider it unrealistic, but you wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve seen in public schools)

“Well, tell me how am I supposed to see the magic? ‘Cause I don’t believe in it no more”

-EDEN, XO

Soulmates were a strange thing, connecting two people together for eternity, yet not being able to tell if a person’s soulmate would die before they had the chance to meet or giving someone no soulmate at all.  There were theories about how it worked, from quantum entanglement to straight-up magic, but nobody was really sure in the end.  Most didn’t care about the science anyway. 

They cared about falling in love. 

Anthony Edward Stark had been born without words on his wrist and those words had not appeared in the years after he was born, leaving him destined to never find true love.  Destined to be isolated from the rest of the world.  It was partly why his father hated him, but his mother didn’t mind all that much. 

(Of course, she didn’t.  His mother had always cared about him.) 

No matter where he went, Tony wore bracelets over his wrist.  When people asked, he claimed that he wanted his words to be private so nobody could see them and pretend to be his soulmate.  He never let it slip that he didn’t have a soulmate, making sure that the only people who knew were his parents and Jarvis. 

Not having a soulmate, along with his abusive asshole of a father, was a factor in how he acted once he had grown up.  He drowned himself in alcohol until he was sure it would fill up his lungs and had sex with as many people as possible, hoping to fill the loneliness inside of him. 

It didn’t work. 

Luckily, Pepper and Rhodey were there to remind him that not having a soulmate didn’t make him any less deserving of familial and platonic love.

Pepper had already found her soulmate, a woman named Natasha Romanov.  She had been searching for a long time, but eventually found Natasha when the woman came in for an interview for a job in PR.  Pepper had the words, ‘I did not expect you to be this pretty’ on her wrist while Natasha had the words, ‘And I didn’t expect to find my soulmate in a job interview’ on hers.

Rhodey had found his soulmate when he was grabbing takeout for him and Tony.  He accidentally bumped into his soulmate, Sam Wilson, in a Chinese restaurant.  Rhodey had the words ‘Fuck, I am so sorry,’ while Sam had the words ‘Don’t be’ on his wrist.

Both Pepper and Rhodey were there when he got a soul sentence.

It was a rainy afternoon in August, droplets of water falling down gently like shimmering diamonds outside the windows of the penthouse kitchen.  Tony hummed a tune as he grabbed a granola bar from the pantry, coffee brewing behind him.  As he turned back toward the coffee maker to grab his mug, he felt a strange sensation across his left wrist.  It was somehow comforting and stinging at the same time.  It burned and yet it was cooling and soft.  It was like no sensation he had felt before.  He dropped the granola bar, pulled down the sleeve of his shirt, and there it was, the words that would haunt him for years to come.

What’s your favorite planet?

Tony Stark screamed.

Pepper and Rhodey came rushing in to see what was wrong, only to find Tony staring at his wrist and a granola bar on the ground.

“Tony, what’s wrong?!” Pepper exclaimed, her face portraying her confusion.  In response, the man just turned his wrist around, showing off the words that had chosen to place themselves on his skin.

“Tones, this is amazing,” Rhodey told him. “Why aren’t you excited?”

“I am thirty-one years old,” Tony replied, pulling his wrist away and staring down at the words as if they had hurt him. “By the time my soulmate is eighteen, I’ll be forty-nine. Whoever they are, they don’t deserve that.”

“Tony-” Pepper started but was cut off.

“And I’m a superhero that could get killed at any time. It just wouldn’t work.”

“Tony, you have to-” Rhodey began but Tony interrupted again.

“No! I’m not going to look for my soulmate, I’m not going to meet my soulmate, and I’m sure as hell not going to fall in love with my soulmate! We’re not even going to talk about them, okay!?” Tony was shouting at the end of his little speech, tears glimmering in his eyes like the rain outside.  He stomped off, leaving his coffee and his granola bar behind him.

+++

“I just needed company now. Yeah, I just needed someone around.”

-Conan Gray, Comfort Crowd

When Peter Benjamin Parker was born, it was a rainy day in August, rain dripping down the window panes in the hospital.  He was born with a single word on his wrist.

Jupiter.

His parents loved his soul sentence.

When he was young, he heard stories of soulmates meeting and staying in love through their entire lives, never giving up on the other.  He completely believed in soulmates and true love, never having doubts about it.

Peter’s parents died when he was four years old.

The idea of soulmates lessened in his brain, falling into the back of his mind to deal with at a later time.  As he began to open up to the idea of soulmates once more, tragedy struck.

He lost his uncle.

Grief overtook him and he didn’t have the room to worry about soulmates, instead filing them as fantasies and pretended they never existed in the first place, despite the happy couples around him and the words on his wrist.

Peter spent his years wearing a bracelet and never looking at the single word that had planted itself on his left wrist.  He gave up on romantic love, instead choosing to find a couple of friends who wouldn’t mind his inherent lack of interest in soulmates. 

Luckily, he met Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones in middle school.

Ned was a hopeless romantic, constantly looking for his soulmate everywhere he went.  He was determined to find them and never lose them.  It hurt Peter’s heart a bit to know that his friend still believed in love but didn’t let that get in the way of helping the boy find the one the universe chose to be his.

MJ was a different story.

The girl acted as if she had no interest in love or even friends, but Peter was good at acting like he was dumb.  He didn’t let it on, but he knew that she was looking for her soulmate.  He saw the subtle glances to her words when she thought nobody was looking and the ways she strained to observe every last person she saw.

Peter loved being with his friends, but it changed when both of them found their soulmates in the same week of junior year.

In the middle of October, a new kid arrived at Midtown and everybody was eager to talk to him, wanting to know if he was their soulmate. Due to that, their little trio didn’t get to meet him until the beginning of November.

Turns out, his name was Jacob and he had the words ‘You’re the new kid, right?’ on his wrist while Ned had the words ‘Is three weeks too long to be considered new?’ on his.  They were soulmates.

Peter had tried to be happy for Ned, he really did, but it was hard when his friend practically abandoned him to start hanging out with his soulmate all the time.  He was down a friend and left with MJ.  He didn’t really mind, but it was difficult when he realized he had nobody to talk to.  May was always gone and MJ was always buried in a book or drawing people in crisis, leaving Peter to drown in loneliness.

Still, he was glad he had anybody at all.

That Friday, at Academic Decathlon practice, a new kid joined the team.  Her name was Sydney and she had the words ‘Welcome to Academic Decathlon practice, loser’ written on her wrist. MJ had the words ‘If I’m your soulmate, am I still a loser?’ on hers.

And then MJ abandoned him too.

Peter found himself alone at lunch and without somebody to talk to, without anybody to listen to his frustrations and his interests that he so badly wanted to talk about.  He began to keep to himself, never opening his mouth to say a word except when asked to speak in class, but even then he gave short, often one-word answers. He even quit Academic Decathlon. This, of course, led to him being the freak of the school.

Rumors constantly floated around about him and stares, whether curious or disgusted, followed him wherever he walked in the halls.  He kept his head down and tried his best to ignore everyone despite the verbal harassment and physical bullying.

Silence ruled his entire life as he moved from junior year to senior year, voice becoming hoarse from lack of speech.  His teachers rarely called on him, knowing he would only give short answers and that he already knew the material.  He was left alone in that sense, but the bullying only got worse. Teachers would turn their heads and pretend they saw nothing, never getting Flash and his posse in trouble because of how much money was between the group.

So Peter let it happen, let it become as normal to him as the seasons and days pass.  He was waiting for the last day of school so the torture would finally end.

As much as he wished to go to college, he couldn’t afford it.  He had gotten into MIT and hadn’t responded yet, but knew he would soon have to decline so he could take a gap year, or possibly two, to work and get enough money to go through at least two years of higher education.

The universe really had it out for him.

+++

“Called to the devil and the devil said quit. Can’t be bothered, better handle your shit.”

-Rainbow Kitten Surprise, It’s Called: Freefall

The universe really had it out for Tony Stark.  He was practically knee-deep in paperwork and had so much more work to do, meaning he couldn’t go back to the workshop.  He groaned as he flipped through another legal document, trying to figure out why he even owned the company at this point.  Still, he worked on.

Tony was almost grateful when he heard a knock at his office door, hoping it would be someone who could distract him from his work for a bit.  Unfortunately for him, the door opened to reveal Pepper, who was holding a small folder of documents in her hand.

“I’ve scheduled for you to go to Midtown School of Science and Technology next week to give a talk about aeronautics to the senior class,” she told him without a greeting, walking forward and setting a folder on his desk. “These papers contain all the things you need to talk about, what to remember about the school, and the top students just in case you run into them or have to talk to them in the lecture.”

“Are you seriously trusting me to talk to impressionable young minds about science?” Tony asked her, picking up the folder and beginning to flip through the files.

“It’s just a simple lecture,” the CEO reassured him. “You’ll be fine.”

With that, Pepper exited the room and left Tony to flip through everything.  He sighed and opened the folder completely, deciding to look at the top students first.  It was the ten best students, the first paper on the stack being the tenth best kid.

Tony flipped through the files without interest, half-heartedly glancing over the information about the students’ extracurricular activities and GPAs. He paused when he got to the last paper, though, as he saw a handsome young man who happened to be the brightest of everyone in the impressive school.

He was a senior named Peter Parker.  He had a perfect GPA, took seven AP classes, had near-perfect scores on the SAT and ACT, and had been accepted to several nice colleges.

Tony couldn’t stop staring at the paper, taking in all the boy’s accomplishments and his soft eyes and fluffy brown hair and bright appearance.  He suddenly wasn’t dreading the lecture as much.

+++

“Make my messes matter.  Make this chaos count.”

-Sleeping At Last, Jupiter

When it was announced that Tony Stark was going to be giving a lecture to the, frankly rather small, senior class, Peter couldn’t find it in himself to care.  There wasn’t any big excitement for him.  Yeah, sure, Tony Stark was a genius superhero with a shit ton of money, but Peter himself was a genius superhero with no money, so it didn’t really matter.

Peter was just glad the attention was focused on the lecture and not him. That meant he got through the next few days with minimal bruises and no bloody noses. It was the best week he’d had in a good while.

His luck ended on Thursday, the day before the lecture, when Flash decided that Peter had gotten through the week so far too easily.  So he beat up Peter a little worse than usual, leaving him more bruised than other weeks. The blunt force had also caused some bleeding, but it didn’t really matter to Peter. He would usually heal fast but he knew that May’s paycheck wasn’t the highest, so he skipped a lot of meals just to make sure he wasn’t taking more money away from his aunt than he needed to. It upset his advanced metabolism but didn’t hurt more than everything usually did.

When Peter patched himself up, he noticed the black eye he was donning. He didn’t really care about that either.  Apathy was a common thing for Peter and it didn’t matter to him just like everything else.  Knowing nobody would care, Peter came to school with the black eye.  The teachers wouldn’t do anything about it anyway.

It was only when Peter arrived at school that he remembered the lecture that was happening. The seniors were taken straight from homeroom to the cafetorium for the presentation and would be allowed to leave early afterward.  Chairs were set up in front of the small stage and the tables were pushed back.

Peter sat down in the back row, alone and away from the other students, who were trying to sit as close to the front as possible to be closer to Tony Stark.  Once everyone was seated, the genius came on stage and was met by cheers.

“Thank you,” Tony said in his press conference voice. “Thank you all so much. Big shout out to your school for having me. I’m excited to talk to you all about aeronautics.”

As he spoke, Tony searched the crowd for someone, and nobody noticed except Peter.  When the man caught Peter’s gaze, recognition flashed in his eyes and his smile turned genuine for a second before returning to his paparazzi smile.

Peter didn’t care.

Instead of paying attention, the boy pulled a sketchbook out of his backpack and flipped to an empty page, putting his pencil to the page and waiting for something to come to mind to draw.  Eventually, without thinking, he began to draw the solar system. He liked space after all.

“And since you’re such a small group, you each get to ask one question!” Peter heard Tony say once he had turned back to the lecture. The questions began as he continued to sketch.

When Peter’s mind came back into focus once more, he realized he had sketched Jupiter in the middle of the page.  With a glare at the sketchbook, he dropped his pencil and let it clatter to the ground. He gave a small growl and ripped the page out.

“How about the young man in the back?” Tony asked and everybody turned to Peter, who was holding the torn out paper, which he was getting ready to crumble up. He closed his fist around the paper and tried to ignore the stares.

“What’s your favorite planet?” Peter questioned with a shrug, looking halfheartedly at the famous man just a couple dozen feet in front of him.

Tony’s eyes widened and he gave a quick glance down to his left wrist before regaining his cool and answering, “Jupiter.”

Peter’s own eyes widened at that.  He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his bracelet-covered wrist, going to move the jewelry, before stopping himself and lowering his hand.  Tony had moved onto the next person, so the vigilante grabbed the discarded paper in his lap and finished crumbling it, letting it drop onto the floor without a second thought.

“Thank you so much for having me, Midtown!” Tony said with his press smile plastered on before giving a wink and walking off stage to the applause of the teenagers.  In the very back, he could see Peter packing up his sketchbook.

“Thank you so much for coming, Dr. Stark,” Principal Morita expressed with a grateful smile.

“It was no problem,” Tony chuckled before sobering up. “I’d love to talk to your top student though. Peter Parker, was it?”

The principal turned nervous. “Uh, may I ask why?”

Tony gave a suspicious look. “I’d like to talk to him about a job opportunity at Stark Industries.”

“I don’t think you want Mr. Parker for the job. Perhaps you might like Flash Thompson. He’s extremely smart,” Morita advertised with an anxious smile.

“I didn’t see Mr. Thompson on the top ten students list,” Tony commented with a dangerous edge to his voice. “I did see Mr. Parker though. I don’t get why you’re so against me meeting him.”

“Well,” Morita stuttered out, “it’s just that Mr. Parker is a bit . . . quiet and, uh, strange. He doesn’t quite fit in with the other students.”

“I don’t see why that matters. I’d like to see him.”

With a sputter and stammered, “Of course,” the principal rushed out, leaving Tony alone in the wings.

“Mr. Parker!” Principal Morita called to the person at the back of the exiting crowd. Peter whipped around and looked at him with no emotion. “Could you come over here?”

Everybody watched as Peter made his way over, not quite walking fast, but not quite trudging to the stage. Whispers broke out about it as the seniors exited, the doors closing behind the last of them.

“Dr. Stark wants to discuss job opportunities at Stark Industries with you,” Morita told him quietly once he reached the stage. “Please don’t mess this up for the school.”

Despite the hushed tone, Tony heard him, eyes widening at the very prospect of a staff member saying that to a student. He studied Peter for any sign of shock or fear, but all he saw was an emotionless face and a small nod in acceptance.

Principal Morita walked out and gave Peter one more warning look before exiting the cafetorium.

The boy turned around and looked over to Tony, who was frozen in shock in the wings.

“If you don’t want me as your soulmate and never want to see me again, just tell me,” Peter reassured him. “I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

Tony sputtered for a second before walking out of the wings and standing right in front of Peter, who seemed to shrink back a bit without even moving a step. “What in the world gave you that idea?”

“I don’t know . . .” Peter muttered, averting his gaze to the floor. “The way you seemed shocked to see me right now. The look you looked at me during the lecture. The way you moved on so quickly after my question. It just kinda gave me that impression.”

“I moved on because I didn’t want to announce you as my soulmate in front of your classmates in case you didn’t want to be my soulmate,” Tony answered, “and I was looking at you in shock because of what your principal said to you.”

Peter looked up to meet the man’s eyes before looking down at the floor again.  He gently pulled up his sleeve, took off his bracelet, and offered up his wrist, showing off the word ‘Jupiter,’ which stood out against the yellow and blue bruise.

“Peter . . .” the genius started quietly and trailed off. “Peter, are you being abused?”

The way Tony said his name felt so intimate, but the boy didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“What?!” Peter exclaimed, looking up at the man and startling him with the outburst. “No! My aunt wouldn’t do that!”

“Then what’s this bruise?” Tony questioned a bit louder now, but it was more around his normal volume.

“Just . . . bullies. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Tony sighed and looked down, putting his face in his hands for a moment before looking up again. He gently grabbed Peter’s hand and the boy began to pull away before stopping himself.  Tony added that to the list of things he needed to ask him about.

Tony tenderly led him to the edge of the stage before releasing his hand and sitting down with his legs hanging off.  Peter followed his lead but kept his legs up and crossed them, twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

“What's your favorite planet?” Tony asked him after a moment of silence.

“Pluto,” Peter answered after thinking about it for a second.

“You know that isn’t actually a planet, right?”

“Shhh, you’ll hurt Pluto’s feelings!” the boy quietly exclaimed with a grin. Tony could see a bit of the younger man’s true personality cracking through the mask, so he turned to him and returned the smile, giving a soft laugh.

A faint blush rose to Peter’s cheeks as he realized that he was the one who made the man of iron laugh.

“Seniors, you are now free to go. I repeat, seniors, you are now free to go,” a voice said over the intercom.

“Since you’re being released early, do you wanna come to the tower?” Tony offered, giving Peter a kind look.

“I’d love to.”

+++

“Milemarker twenty-seven says we’re on the way to heaven and I smile at the passenger seat.”

-Lincoln, Banks

The ride to the tower was mostly silent, interrupted every once in a while by Tony asking Peter a question about himself and then giving his own answer after the younger man.

When they arrived, Tony led Peter up to the penthouse and let him sit in the living room while he quickly went to the kitchen to make them coffee. When it was finished, he brought in milk and sugar and set them on the coffee table, sitting in the armchair next to the couch Peter was seated on.

“I really wanted to avoid this topic,” Tony hesitated, “but I have to ask about the black eye.”

Peter retreated into himself, the slight light in his eyes disappearing and the mask of apathy falling back on. “It’s really nothing,” he defended in a monotone voice.

“If it really is nothing, then why did you go back to pretending you don’t care?”

Silence fell over them as Tony continued to look at Peter with a sadness that made the younger feel a wave of guilt wash over him.

“It’s just bullies, so it’s really not a big deal.”

“Is this a regular thing? Do the teachers not care?”

Peter’s silence said more than anything he could’ve answered the question with.

“When did it start?”

That’s when Peter broke down. He began to quietly sob, trying to muffle it as tears rolled down his cheeks. He hadn’t cried since before he met Ned and MJ and it felt good to just let it happen.

It was the first time in about a year and a half that somebody had cared enough to ask if he was okay.

“Peter, love, you don’t have to try and stay quiet,” his soulmate assured him softly. “Just let it all out.”

Tony stood and moved to sit down next to Peter. He tenderly reached over to the younger man but hesitated when he flinched and went quiet for a moment. Then the sobs returned at full force, even harder and somehow conveying the younger man’s anger at himself. Tony felt his own tears well up in his eyes but didn’t let them out. Instead, he continued to move and gently coaxed Peter into his arms, letting the younger cry into his chest. He rested his chin on the curly mop of brown hair and finally let his own tears gently fall from his eyes.

Tony rubbed Peter’s back gently, nearly getting up to go find the bullies who hurt Peter every time he felt Peter flinch against his chest from his hand running over a bruise.

“Baby, I’m so sorry I didn’t find you earlier,” he apologized sincerely before wondering when the last time Peter heard an apology was.

“‘s not your fault,” the younger reminded him as he pulled away from his chest.

“Could you tell me the full story?” Tony inquired as he tenderly took Peter’s hands in his.

And so Peter did.  He told him about meeting Ned and MJ and then them both leaving him in junior year. He told him about not talking because he had nobody to talk to. He told him about the touch starvation he felt. He told him about being bullied because of not having friends. He told him about his teachers letting the bullies get away with it. He told him about covering up his emotions with complete apathy. He told him about being beaten up the day before. He told him about his doubts and fears about love. He told him everything.

“I just gave up on emotions. I just gave up on me,” Peter sobbed quietly, looking up at Tony with glistening eyes.

“Well, I’m not giving up on you,” Tony declared, making the younger give a small, wavering grin, but a grin nonetheless.

Peter leaned into Tony’s chest and listened to the man’s heartbeat. Both weary from the day, they fell asleep in each other’s arms on the couch, ninety-three stories up from all of their problems.

+++

“I’ve been naive and I’ve been feeling hazy maybe.”

-Bowling Shoes, Portland

Peter left early the next morning but not before Tony made breakfast for them. They had pancakes, which was the only food the genius knew how to make without completely ruining the kitchen.

Now, Tony was left sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking his coffee and looking down at the drawing Peter had torn out of his sketchbook for him.

It was a pencil sketch of an ocean under the starry sky and had Peter’s signature in the bottom right corner. He was contemplating where to hang it up in the tower when Pepper walked into the kitchen, moving to the coffee maker to grab a cup before the workday started.

“How are you, Tony?” she asked, not looking up from where she was choosing the cup size for her coffee.

“His name is Peter,” Tony told her, staring at the paper. Pepper looked over to him with confusion etched onto her face.

“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?”

“My soulmate,” he elaborated. “His name is Peter. Peter Parker.”

“What?!” Pepper exclaimed and ran over to the breakfast bar, coffee long forgotten. “You met your soulmate?! Where? How? When?!”

Tony set down the paper and looked up at his long-time friend with a sad smile. “He goes to Midtown. He’s the top student and he’s a senior, so he was at the lecture.”

Pepper noticed his somber face and immediately sobered up. “Does he . . . does he not like you?”

“He does,” Tony sighed as tears slightly welled up, “but some things have happened to him recently and he’s scared of me leaving. Fri, could you bring up some pictures of Pete from yesterday?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

The hologram on Tony’s watch activated and showed a picture of Peter sitting in the back of the audience and not looking up. He swipes and there’s one of him looking up, but you can see the black eye. Pepper’s brow furrowed in concern. The next image was of Peter showing Tony his soul sentence, but there’s the hand print bruise.

There were more images of bruises of his arms and where his jeans rose a bit and showed off his ankles.

“Is he being . . . ?” Pepper started but trailed off.

“He’s being bullied because he’s quiet. He doesn’t have anyone to talk to since his friends left him and his aunt is always working,” Tony explained, eyes focused on the image of Peter crying into his chest. “The teachers don’t care in the slightest. Hell, when I asked to speak to Peter, giving the excuse that he was the top student, the principal tried to convince me to talk to a student who wasn’t even in the top ten. He’s hurting, Pep, and I don’t know how to help him”

Silence fell over them and the hologram shut off, leaving Tony’s deactivated watch behind.

“You just gotta be there for him, Tony,” Pepper encouraged. “I know you, and I can tell you care for him. If you show that to him, I have a feeling that you’ll be a lot closer to making everything work out.”

+++

“Could’ve been one lonely night just like the others, but you lit up my life. This is what it’s like to be lovers.”

-Ollie MN, Please Never Fall In Love Again

Tony had never had a proper first kiss. Hell, he’d never even had a proper relationship. His younger years had been filled with emotionless sex. There was no meaning in real romantic love for Tony, so he learned how to focus on family and friends in his thirties.

Well, that was all before Peter Parker.

Tony had always been one for looks, but that tended, of course, to be for sex. Men and women, anybody really, just had to be hot for Tony to have sex with them.  There was no appreciation for kind eyes or fluffy hair or soft skin.

That was all before Peter Parker.

Tony had thought he would never feel romantic love. He had heard stories of falling in love with your soulmate faster than one would think to be possible but was never too intrigued by the topic. After all, why should he care about how fast someone falls in love when he doesn’t even have a soulmate?

That was all before Peter Parker.

Tony wanted to kiss Peter and run his fingers through the boy’s hair and drag his calloused hands across his skin and look into his coffee-brown eyes all day and fall in love as fast as possible.

And, dear lord above, he had fallen in love.

The second time Peter came over to the tower was the following week.  The two sat on the couch, close together but still with a bit of room.  Tony didn’t push his soulmate to move any closer, completely content with going at the younger man’s pace.

That was new, too. Tony had always wanted to set his own pace, but, for once, he wanted someone else to decide how fast everything moves.

They sat and talked, blabbing away about science and basking in each other’s company as they sipped mugs of hot chocolate.  Tony’s chest felt lighter every time Peter inched even a little bit closer to him, wordlessly informing the genius that he was slowly growing more comfortable around him.

“So you made the webs yourself?” Tony asked Peter, astonishment laced into his tone.  Peter couldn’t stop the blush that spread across his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly but with a small grin. “Used some scraps for the actual shooters and some chemicals from the school chemistry lab to make the web solution.”

“That’s amazing!” the genius exclaimed, knowing that he meant it. “Just imagine what you could do when I get you in a proper lab!”

“You’re . . . you’re gonna let me in your labs?” Peter questioned in amazement, yet somehow remaining slightly neutral.

“Of course! You’re a fucking genius!”

The praise made Peter turn a deeper shade of pink.  Tony couldn’t help but just stare at him in awe.  His soulmate was gorgeous in his opinion, especially when he allowed his emotions to peek through and paint across his face.  Without thinking, the man reached forward and began to run his fingers through Peter’s hair.

Peter froze for a moment, shock getting to him as he looked up at his soulmate. For a second, Tony thought he would flinch back, but Peter leaned into the touch. As Tony began to continue the movement, his soulmate’s eyes fluttered closed and his shoulders sagged as if the simple touch helped release everything he had been holding onto.  He let himself be pulled into Tony’s side as the soft feeling of his hair being played with calmed him.

When Peter leaned against him, Tony wanted to shout for joy.  He slowly shifted the younger man from where he was leaning on his shoulder to his chest and then to a lying position with his head in the genius’s lap, all while continuing to run his fingers through his hair.

Tony couldn’t help but notice how at peace Peter looked.

It was the most relaxed he had ever seen his soulmate.  

+++

“If it makes you happy, then why the hell are you so sad?”

-Sheryl Crow, If It Makes You Happy

“Hey, FRIDAY said you had something to tell me,” Rhodey said as he entered the lab, finding Tony working on an Iron Man gauntlet. He looked up and motioned for the colonel to come and sit next to him. Albeit hesitantly, Rhodey walked over and sat down.

“I found my soulmate,” Tony blurted out, looking at his friend dead in the eyes.

“You what!?” Rhodey cried out.

“He’s a senior at Midtown and I met him in the presentation,” Tony told him. “His name is Peter Parker and I care about him so fucking much, Rhodey. I wish I would’ve listened to you and started searching sooner because he’s . . . because he’s really needed someone this past couple of years.”

“What . . . what are you on about, Tones?” Rhodey questioned him with a puzzled look.

“He hasn’t had anybody to talk to since junior year. No friends. His aunt was always gone. He was just . . . alone. And he’s been bullied really terribly and no one cared and I wished I found him sooner so I could’ve helped.”

“Tony, it’s not your-”

“Except it is my fault, Rhodey!” Tony shouted, pulling at his hair in frustration. “I completely ignored the fact I had a soulmate and, by the time I found him, he’d already put on a complete mask of apathy and hadn’t cried for a year and a half! He had bruises all over him and a black eye and just said it didn’t matter! He sat on my couch and sobbed and . . .  and flinched when I reached over to hug him and tried to muffle his sobs and I wish I had found him earlier.”

They both stayed quiet, letting the echoing effect of the words fill up the air.

“Tony,” Rhodey finally chimed in, “I’m gonna help in any way I can.”

+++

“Told you not to worry, but maybe that’s a lie.”

-Billie Eilish, ilomilo

When Peter came over a couple Saturdays later, for the fourth time since they met, his bruises were mostly healed and his black eye from the first time they met was gone, but there were new bruises and his cheeks were red, and it obviously wasn’t from the sun. The marks almost looked angry, but maybe that was just because of Tony’s rage toward whoever hurt him.

Tony didn’t let his anger show on his face, instead electing to delicately bring the younger man into his arms. When he felt Peter hug him back and bury his head in his shoulder, the billionaire could only smile.

“How are you doing?” Tony asked as they pulled away.

“A bit better than last week,” Peter told him with a soft smile that made the genius feel warm inside. Tony returned the smile in order to tell Peter that he was glad about that, and he thought he got the message through.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Tony announced and held out his hand for Peter to take.  The younger did so while giving him a skeptical look.

“Those words can never end well,” he replied.  Tony said nothing more, though, and led him to the elevator, asking FRIDAY to take them to the roof.  Peter kept glancing anxiously at the man, who just gave him comforting smiles in return.

Finally, the elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing the rooftop terrace, but it wasn’t the terrace that caught Peter’s attention.

In the middle of the roof, there was a table set up with a white tablecloth that had rose petals scattered on top of it, a candle in the middle, and two champagne flutes with a green bottle next to the candle.

“Tony,” Peter breathed out in amazement, “what is this?”

“Peter Parker, would you do me the honor of going on a proper date with me?” Tony asked him, offering his hand once more. The younger man looked up at him with a mix of surprise and love in his eyes, simply nodding and putting his hand in Tony’s.

The genius led Peter to the table and pulled out a chair for him, pushing it in once he was seated.  He moved around to the other side and sat down, smiling at his soulmate.

“You didn’t have to do all this for me,” Peter told him softly.

“I didn’t have to,” Tony admitted, “but I really, really wanted to.”

A bright blush rose to Peter’s cheeks, nearly hiding the angry red. Tony reached for the bottle and began to fill Peter’s glass.

“Tony, I’m not old enough to drink,” Peter reminded him.

“This makes it way less romantic,” Tony chuckled, “but it’s sparkling grape juice.”

Peter put his hand up to his mouth and laughed.

“You really didn’t have to do all this for me,” the younger told Tony, a small smile still gracing his face.

“I would do anything for my soulmate” Tony replied with a soft grin.  Peter’s smile, however, began to fade a bit, making the billionaire’s eyes turn concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Peter sighed. “It’s just that word.  Soulmate.  I just . . . it’s just strange to me.”  Before Tony could even open his mouth to reply, Peter added on, “Not in a bad way or anything!  I’m really excited to have a soulmate and you’re amazing. It’s just that having a soulmate or even just anyone to care for me is . . . weird, I guess.”

Tony wondered if Peter could hear his heart splintering and shattering in his chest.  His soulmate’s words echoed in his head, the broken tone they were uttered in going straight to his gut and making it churn uneasily.

“Pete . . .” Tony started but trailed off.

“I know, I know. I sound really dumb,” Peter noted, a sad smile on his face as he looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

“I don’t think it sounds dumb.”

The vigilante risked a glance up, only to find Tony looking at him with a loving yet melancholy expression.

“Nobody’s cared and you deserve so much more,” Tony told him. “I never looked for my soulmate.  I just . . . believed that whoever they were wouldn’t want me.  Then, Peter, I found you and I just wanted to get to know you and love you and be your soulmate.”

“Tony, I-” Peter started but was cut off.

“I saw you and I knew that I never wanted to let you go. I didn’t even know if you wanted me as your soulmate and I was taken aback that you actually did.  And then . . . then I talked to you for a few minutes and it broke my heart.” Tony let out a chuckle that sounded slightly like a sob. “You are one of the most amazing people I have ever met and you have gone through so much shit that you don’t deserve and you’re still so wonderful.  Under every mask of apathy, I found the real Peter Parker, the one who makes me laugh and is a genius and the one that I planned this date for and the one that I want to plan a million more dates for.”

Tony’s emotions were on full display, concern and sorrow and love painting his features.  Peter couldn’t stop the look of shock and love that his face morphed into, crystal clear tears pooling around his coffee brown eyes.  He wiped away his tears with the sleeves of his sweatshirt, Tony catching a glimpse of his soul sentence as he did so.

The two soulmates fell into easy conversation as a chef came by and put down plates of spaghetti with arancini on the side, the scent of the food wafting through the cold, early spring air on the roof.

“Traditional Italian food?” Peter asked and looked up at Tony as he picked up his fork.

“I’m Italian and I thought it would be fun for us to have some traditional food,” Tony responded with an easy smile that Peter returned.

“I didn’t know you were Italian.”

“I mean, we haven’t had that many chances to talk.”

“Besides the fact that we text all the time every day.”

The two laughed and returned to their food, letting a comfortable silence fill the air on the rooftop terrace. It was quiet and cozy without them having to try.  It was a feeling that Peter hadn’t felt in a long time.  He couldn’t help but relish in the feeling of content that was filling up his chest. It was like happiness was returning, the whole world turning back to being right once more. 

It couldn’t last though.

“I really hate to bring this up,” Tony quietly started, “but I have to ask about the red cheeks and new bruises. Same bullies?”

The content poured out from his chest, leaving the empty, hollow feeling that Peter almost always felt.

“Same bullies,” Peter muttered in confirmation before taking another bite of his pasta to avoid having to say anymore.  Tony sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, leaving the worry to fill Peter’s head.

“I, uh, I know. I’m just- they’re . . . it’s really okay.  It’s kinda stupid. I mean, I’m a superhero and I deal with worse. It’s not that bad.  It just kinda looks . . . bad?” Peter stuttered over his words as he choked them out, hoping Tony wasn’t exasperated with him.

“What? No, it’s not stupid!” the billionaire insisted. “You’re being hurt! That’s not dumb. You shouldn’t be getting hurt.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about it,” Peter told him quietly, barely meeting the man’s eyes.

“But I do,” he declared, his voice rising in volume. “You’re my soulmate, Pete, and I can’t stand you coming over here and always having to see you hurt!”

“I’m sorry,” Peter blurted out, guilt eating away at the inside of his stomach.

“Don’t apologize, love.” Peter blushed at the nickname. “I’m supposed to worry. That’s my job as your soulmate.”

“I’m just not used to having somebody who cares so much about this.”

“I’m going to change that.”

+++

“It cannot wait, I’m yours.”

-Jason Mraz, I’m Yours

After dinner, they slow danced to music played by a live pianist.  Towards the end of one of the songs, Tony leaned in and pressed a light kiss against Peter’s lips, and everything felt right.

+++

“Hold, hold on, hold on to me, ‘cause I’m a little unsteady, a little unsteady.”

-X Ambassadors, Unsteady

Later that night, Peter and Tony found themselves cuddled up in Tony’s bed as a movie played in the background.  The warmth between them began to fill Peter up with content again, the gentle feeling of skin against skin calming him down. It truly felt like he was ninety-three floors up from all of his problems.

Then his phone began to ring.

The sound startled the couple, disrupting the soft peace of the room. Peter pulled away from the embrace and grabbed his ringing phone off the bedside table while Tony paused the movie.  He wiped at his bleary and unfocused eyes until he could make out that the contact was Aunt May.

Shit.

Slightly panicked, Peter accepted the call and put the phone to his ear, shooting up from the bed and starting to pace the room.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, where are you?!” May shouted loud enough that Tony, who was worriedly watching Peter pace, could slightly make out what she had said.

“Uh, I’m, uh, at Ned’s,” Peter attempted to lie, but May knew better.

“I already called Ned and he said you weren’t even friends, so I have no clue who you think you’re fooling,” she replied sternly.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll be there soon and I’ll explain. I promise,” Peter swore and hung up the phone before his aunt could answer him.  He sighed and threw his phone on the bed before flopping down beside it.

“Fuck,” the younger muttered, bringing a hand up to cover his worried face.

“Was that your aunt?” Tony asked him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and intertwining their hands.

“Yeah,” Peter replied, sitting up and putting his head on his soulmate’s shoulder. “She wants me to go home, but I thought she was working the night shift.”

Peter began to stand up, pulling his hand away from Tony’s to grab his phone and shove it in his pocket before grabbing his sneakers off of the floor.  He sat down on the bed once more and laced his shoes up.

“I’m so fucked,” he groaned as he ran his hands over his face once more. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to her! ‘Oh, hey, May! Where was I? Oh, yeah, just at Stark Tower because my soulmate is Tony Stark! Anyway, it’s nice to see you because we rarely see each other anymore. Goodnight!’  I can’t just say that!”

“Maybe . . . maybe you could,” Tony told him after a beat of silence. Instead of replying, Peter just gave him a look as if he was out of his mind. “Hear me out! I could come with you and we could explain everything! It’ll be fine!”

“I . . . you would come with me?” Peter questioned quietly and looked up at Tony.  The genius gave him a gentle smile.

“If you’re okay with it.”

“Then we should get going because she is going to kill me if I’m not there in the next twenty minutes.”

Tony stood up, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him up too. He grabbed a pair of sneakers and slipped them on before snatching a jacket up from where it was carelessly thrown on the back of a chair.

“I’ll drive,” Tony announced before intertwining their hands once more and pulling Peter with him.  They speed-walked through the halls of the penthouse and took the elevator down to the garage. Tony picked a car that wasn’t too flashy, though Peter would disagree on that, and got in the driver’s seat, leaving the younger to get in on the other side.

The ride over was filled with conversation and Tony assuring his young lover that he would be okay.  What Tony didn’t say was that Peter could stay over at the tower for however long he needs if his aunt needs time to process everything.  He internally made the promise though.

When they pulled up to the apartment complex and parked along the street, Peter had to take some deep breaths.  Tony turned the car off and reached over the console to take Peter’s hand in a gesture of comfort and reassurance.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Tony guaranteed. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Peter nodded and took one final breath before opening the car door, Tony doing the same on the other side.  Luckily, the street was practically empty and too dark to see much, so nobody saw as Tony Stark walked to the other side of a flashy car and took his soulmate’s hand.  The two quietly walked up to the building and Peter unlocked the door with one hand, having had many years of practice doing so.  They climbed the stairs, not even bothering to approach the elevator because they wanted to stall having to tell May.

Finally, they reached Peter’s floor and found themselves in front of the door.  They disconnected their hands and the younger fumbled around in the side pocket of his bag to get his key.  Once he got it, he took a breath and softly swung the door open, immediately seeing Aunt May glaring at him from the kitchen, her anger evident on her face.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, where were you?!” she shouted, making Peter flinch back a bit. “I got my shifts moved around and thought ‘won’t it be great if I come home early and get to spend some time with my nephew?’ But apparently not because you aren’t at home and you aren’t at your friend’s house and you won’t answer my texts and I was just stuck-”

May cut herself off, finally seeing Tony standing behind her nephew with a mix of worry and guilt painted on his face.  She couldn’t help but gawk at him for a minute in complete and utter confusion.

“Peter,” she whispered dangerously, “you have ten seconds to tell me why the fuck Tony Stark is in my doorway.”

“Well, that’s, uh, that’s a funny story,” Peter stuttered, scratching the back of his neck anxiously and not meeting his aunt’s eyes.  He took a step in as she glared at him and Tony followed, gently closing the door behind him.

“Peter,” she warned, “tell me what’s going on.”

“I found my soulmate!” he blurted, finally making eye contact with the woman.

“You . . . you what?”

“I found my soulmate,” Peter repeated quietly, shoulders sagging.  May gave him a bewildered look before sighing and walking over to the living room.  She sat herself down in an armchair and put her head in her hands as she rested her elbows on her knees.

Peter and Tony shared a distressed look before hesitantly following her. They sat on the couch, a little closer than an acquaintance or co-worker would, and May noticed this when she finally looked up.  Her eyes traveled down to where Peter’s soul sentence would be and realized that it was uncovered for the first time in years as if it had never been hidden away at all.

“Who?” May questioned quietly, meeting Peter’s gaze.  Her nephew fell quiet, unsure of what to say.

“Me,” Tony told her gently, making the woman’s eyes fall on him.  Her face morphed into confusion and then shock, brows furrowing.

“You?” she asked in bewilderment. “You, Tony Stark, are my nephew’s soulmate?”

Tony simply nodded, not knowing what else to tell her. He felt so uncertain, terrified of what could come out of his mouth if he opened it.

“I . . . I just can’t . . . I can’t even process this,” May stammered out, looking between the two men, completely and utterly astonished.

“I should probably go for now,” Tony murmured and the ‘for now’ wasn’t lost on her.  She could only wonder how long they had known they were soulmates.

“We still on for next Friday?” Peter asked him, tearing his gaze away from his startled aunt.

“Of course,” Tony replied with a tender smile.  He gave his soulmate a kiss on the forehead, not wanting to straight out kiss him goodbye in front of the rattled woman, and began to leave, but not before turning around and shooting one more concerned look at the woman.

Once the door had shut, Peter and May looked to each other again, the young adult nervously twiddling his thumbs.

“Peter-” May started but the teen interrupted her.

“Let’s just drop it, May,” he said decidedly and stood up, beginning to make his way to his bedroom.

“Why did Ned say you guys weren’t friends anymore?” she asked him and her nephew stopped dead in his tracks.  He slowly turned around but kept his gaze on the carpeted floor.

“Because we aren’t friends anymore.”

“Why? When did that happen? Why didn’t I know?”

“Because you never cared to ask!” Peter shouted, looking up at her.

May finally noticed the bruises, the purple and yellow around his arms and his ankles.  His cheeks were red as if he had been slapped.  The bags under his eyes gave away the little amounts of sleep he’d had.

“He stopped talking to me! Found his soulmate and left, okay?! It doesn’t matter!” Peter continued, venom laced into his tone. “Let’s just leave it!”

May Parker didn’t know what to say in the slightest.  She was baffled beyond belief.  Her nephew, the only living relative she had, and only through marriage, was standing before her, shouting and bruised and without a friend.  It opened up a pit in her stomach as wide as a canyon and she felt like she was falling into it.  She hadn’t been there.  She hadn’t been there for anything that had happened and it felt awful.  She felt awful.  What type of guardian was she?  She wanted to scream and cry and get mad but it was only at herself.

“When did you find out who your soulmate was?” May questioned quietly, not finding it in herself to even raise her voice a bit.

“A month ago,” Peter told her softly, his face showing off his defeat. “And it was the best day I’ve had in a year and a half, no thanks to anyone I knew before it.”

Peter turned around and left, slamming his bedroom door behind him and leaving May to go over everything she had done wrong.

+++

“Do we have to talk about it? You know how I make you feel, right?”

-gnash, feelings fade

Much to Peter’s surprise, the next week was not too terrible.  As it was nearing the end of the year, most of his grade was too worried about college acceptance letters and scholarships to notice him, so he spent most of the week slipping under the radar.  There were only a few shoves here and there, giving his previous bruises and cuts time to heal.

Peter was sitting in his last period of the day, eagerly awaiting the final bell.  His physics teacher had seen how antsy the students were, as it was their last period before the weekend, and gave them the last ten minutes of the period to do whatever they wanted.

As soon as the teacher had announced that they could do whatever they wanted until the bell rang, Peter pulled out his sketch book and a pencil.  Ignoring the world around him, the young man began to draw, letting the sound of his peers talking fade into the background.

Ned was sitting right next to Peter, as they had been given assigned seats at the beginning of the year.  He was looking at his phone, scrolling through Twitter, but couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to the friend he’d drifted apart from.  He watched as Peter sketched out a picture of space, with Jupiter in the middle of the page.  He followed the boy’s eyes as he looked down at his wrist with a small smile.

Ned nearly had a stroke as he realized that Peter’s soul sentence was uncovered.  He had never seen it before, as Peter had always been really secretive about it when they were still friends.  His gaze was focused on the word ‘Jupiter’ as Peter went back to his drawing.  In a rash decision, Ned decided to speak up.

“Did you find your soulmate?”

Peter startled a bit before looking at Ned.  He shyly pointed a finger towards himself, silently asking if the boy was talking to him.  He received a small nod in response.

“Uh, well, yeah,” Peter replied, looking down at his wrist before looking back up at Ned.  “It’s a really weird story.”

“Are they, uh, nice?” Ned asked, unsure of what else to say.

“Yeah . . . he’s great.  Sweet, supportive, kind, loving. He’s everything you could ever want in a soulmate.”  Peter looked a bit wistful, eyes soft as he traced a finger over the soul mark.

Ned opened his mouth to speak again, but the dismissal bell rang.  He watched as Peter quickly shoved his sketchbook into his bag before flinging it over his shoulder and racing out of the classroom.

All Ned could think was, ‘Who even is he anymore?’

+++

“Keep me in your glow, ‘cause I’m having such a good time with you.”

-Kacey Musgraves, Golden Hour

“Thanks, Happy!” Peter exclaimed as he made his way out of the car.  He received a light grumble in response, but he knew that Happy still appreciated the thanks.

The young genius made his way to the private elevator, ignoring all the confused looks he usually gets from staff in the lobby.  As he stepped in, FRIDAY spoke up.

“Good afternoon, Peter!” she greeted kindly.  “Boss is in the penthouse kitchen.  Would you like me to take you there?”

“Yes.  Thank you, Fri!”

Peter checked his phone as the elevator ascended.  He scrolled through Twitter, just taking a look at what was going on and retweeting a few dumb posts that he found funny.  He slipped his phone back into his pocket as the doors opened.

The young man was met by the sight of his soulmate leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other.  He looked up from where he was checking his email once Peter walked in.

“Pete!” He set down his coffee and phone on the counter.  The younger man dropped his bag by the elevator doors and ran over, the two embracing each other.  Peter buried his head into Tony’s shoulder and the man put his chin on the crown of his soulmate’s head.  The two fit together like two puzzle pieces that were always meant to go together.  They stayed that way for a few moments before pulling apart, though they continued to stand close to each other.

“How was your week?” Tony asked gently.

“It actually wasn’t too bad,” Peter admitted with a shy smile.  “Everybody’s really preoccupied with figuring out what college they want to go to and trying to get scholarships for it that I was able to just fly under the radar.”

“That’s really good,” Tony replied with a smile.  “I’ve never actually asked you what college you’re going to.  Have you already accepted an offer somewhere?”

Peter gave a small sigh at that, looking away from Tony and down at the floor. “I’ve been accepted to a few good schools and I was hoping to accept an offer from MIT, but my aunt and I just don’t have the money for me to pay tuition, even with what we’ve been saving for years, and I don’t qualify for enough financial aid scholarships to cover it.  So I’m probably gonna take a gap year or two to get a job and save up.”

Disappointment radiated off the younger man and it was obvious to Tony that his soulmate wished he could just go off to college right after senior year like pretty much everybody else.  An idea sparked in Tony’s mind.

“I can pay your tuition!” he exclaimed with a smile.  Peter quickly looked up from the floor to give Tony a bewildered gaze.

“I couldn’t ask you to-”

“But you aren’t asking me to!  I’m offering and, by ‘offering,’ I mean that I’m paying your tuition to whatever school you want to go to and I’m not taking no as an answer.”

“Tony, tuition is so expensive!” Peter argued.

“And I’m a billionaire!  It wouldn’t make a dent in my wallet!” Tony countered.

“But-”

“Peter, it’s okay!  I have the money and you deserve to go to college!  I’m not gonna let you give up the opportunity to go to a school you want to go to just because-”

“Tony, I’m not a charity case!” Peter shouted, cutting the man off.  The room fell into silence, Tony staring at him in shock.  Peter just averted his gaze, staring back at the floor.

“What?” Tony breathed out in confusion.

“I’m not a charity case,” Peter repeated in a quieter voice. “You don’t have to pay my tuition just because I’m some poor kid from Queens.”

“Peter . . . that’s not why I want to pay your tuition,” Tony told him gently, reaching forward to grab the younger man’s hands.  “I want to pay your tuition because you’re my soulmate, and I want everything for you.  You deserve the fucking world.”

Peter looked up from the ground, his hopeful eyes gazing into Tony’s. “You promise you’re not just doing this because you pity me?”

“I promise.”

Peter raised himself up a bit, balancing on the balls of his feet, and gave Tony a short peck on the lips before coming back down and leaning his head against the man’s chest.  Tony released his hands in order to wrap his arms around the boy, Peter mirroring the action and wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist.

“I’ll let you pay for my tuition under one condition,” Peter said quietly. “You can only pay for whatever my college savings doesn’t cover.”

“Deal,” Tony replied with a smile, glad he had convinced his soulmate . “And it’s not like you’ll have to pay for a dorm on campus.”

Peter pulled back a bit, looking up at the man in confusion.

“I have a penthouse that’s basically right next to campus,” he elaborated, “so you can stay there and I can go visit all the time.”

“Don’t freshman usually have to live in the dorms?”

“I can pull a few strings.”  Tony shot him a wink.  When Peter opened his mouth to protest, Tony simply said, “Trust me, those dorms are disgusting.”

Just accepting it, Peter laid his head back on Tony’s chest.

+++

“I started working as a dime store clerk. I thought it would make me the kind to put you first.”

-Blind Pilot, Packed Powder

That evening, Tony and Peter sat on the couch together, Peter’s laptop open.  Peter found the email that announced that he had been accepted and went to the link that prompted him to accept or decline the college offer.  Taking a deep breath, the younger man moved his mouse and clicked to accept.  A screen popped up, congratulating him for being MIT-bound and giving him information about the next steps.

Peter just stared at the screen in shock while Tony jumped up from the couch and started clapping.  The younger man set his laptop to the side and his soulmate pulled him up from where he was sitting, giving him a quick hug.

“You’re going to MIT!” Tony exclaimed as he grabbed Peter’s hands.

“Holy shit, I’m going to college! I’m going to college! I can’t even believe it!” Peter exclaimed.

“MIT is pretty impressive,” a voice spoke from behind the couch.  The two soulmates whipped around only to be met with Pepper fucking Potts right outside the doors to the elevator.  Peter froze up while Tony gave the woman a huge smile.

“You must be Peter,” she says, walking forwards and offering a hand to him over the couch, which the young man tentatively shook.  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Um, all good things I hope,” Peter replied sheepishly as he pulled his hand back.

“All great things,” Pepper assured him before taking on a teasing smile. “Ever since you two met, Tony has spent half his time talking about you.”

“Really?” Peter questioned while Tony looked a bit abashed.  Pepper gave him a nod along with a huge grin.

“Anyway, I just came up to hand some paperwork off to Tony,” she told them, motioning to the files she had placed on the counter, “but I’m really glad I finally got to meet you, Peter.”

“I- uh- um- it was really nice to meet you too,” the young man stammered out with a small smile.

And with that, Pepper went back to the elevator to return to whatever she had been working on before.

“Do you think she liked me?” Peter asked as he tore his gaze away from the elevator doors and looked at Tony.

“Oh please, she already loves you.”

+++

“One, two, three, and four. How long til I feel like myself again? And I’d walk out the door, but where would I go?”

-Tessa Violet, Honest

The next night found Peter eating an awkward dinner with May.  Tension continued to linger between them from the conversation the week before.  Neither could come up with a topic of conversation, so they just sat there in silence, focusing on their meals.  Finally, Peter spoke up.

“I committed to MIT.”

May looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Peter, what the fuck?!” she shouted, standing up from her place at the table. “You know we can’t afford tuition to MIT!  You and I decided you were going to take a gap year or two where you could work and save up money!  Why would you-”

May cut herself off as he finally took another look at her nephew, who was just looking up at her calmly.  Slowly, she lowered herself back into her chair, giving him a suspicious look all the while.

“Can I explain?” he asked, seemingly unflappable.

May, unsure of what else to do, simply gave him a nod.

“My soulmate𑁋” May was never going to get used to him saying those words. “𑁋asked me about college and I told him my plan to reject all the acceptances so I could save up money during a couple of gap years.  He simply interjected and said he would pay for my tuition, and I-”

May cut him off again. “What?! You’re just-”

Peter cut her off right back, being just a little bit louder than her. “I told him no.  He kept trying to convince me and I told him I wasn’t a charity case.  He was . . . shocked.  He didn’t realize I felt like he was only offering cause I’m some poor kid from Queens.”

May was quiet and the look on her face was indiscernible.

“He assured me it wasn't because of that, but that he wanted to because I’m his soulmate and he thought it was wrong that I had to turn down an offer from an amazing school just because I couldn’t afford it.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Peter kept going.

“I made a deal with him.  He could pay my tuition, but only the part of my tuition that my college savings don’t cover.  He told me he had a penthouse near campus and that I could stay there so I wouldn’t have to pay extra for a dorm room.  So, I committed to MIT and, whether you like it or not, I’m going there in the fall.”

May stayed silent as her nephew stood up from the table and walked to his room without another word.  She couldn’t fall asleep all night and, when she heard Peter’s window open at one am as he came back from patrol, she left a plate of food outside of his door, knowing he would still be hungry after not finishing his dinner.

+++

“I won’t hate you, but oh it stings.  How does it feel to be adored by him?”

-dodie, Adored By Him

Only a little over a month ago, Peter would’ve jumped at the chance to be friends with Ned and MJ again, despite how quick they were to leave him behind as soon as they found their soulmates.  Once MJ had left him too, Peter began to feel as if he was only a stand-in until his (ex) friends’ soulmates came along, ready to replace him as if he’d never been there at all.  He remembers trying to convince himself that he was being irrational, that all of these thoughts were just him being over dramatic.  He tried to defend their actions, no matter how much they had hurt him.

Once Peter met Tony, that changed.  He’d told his soulmate how he felt, trying to downplay it and make it seem as if he was the one who had been acting like a shitty friend.  It took a lot of time and many conversations for Peter to begin to realize that he was allowed to feel upset that his friends had abandoned him.  It wasn’t his fault.

A little over a month ago, Peter would’ve jumped at the chance to be friends with Ned and MJ again.  Now, Peter had no interest in being friends with either of them.

It was midday on Tuesday and Peter was sitting at lunch, just texting his soulmate.

Soulmate<3: Do you have any plans for spring break?

Peter: nope lol

Soulmate<3: Have you ever been to Italy?

Peter: no???

Soulmate<3: We should go during your spring break!

Just as Peter went to respond, somebody sat down across from him.  He sighed and looked up, expecting one of his bullies, but, instead, he saw MJ, looking like she was trying to play it cool.  He saw right through her, though, as she was avoiding eye contact and had a slight flush on her face.

“What do you want, Michelle?” Peter asked coldly, setting his phone down on the table.  He watched her wince a bit as he called her by her real name instead of her nickname.  “You don’t sit over here anymore.”

“Sydney isn’t here and I wanted to sit with somebody I know,” MJ told him, crossing her arms.

“Why don’t you just sit with Ned?” he shot back at her with a raised eyebrow.

“His table is full.” She motioned and Peter followed her movements, looking at the table where Ned was sat with his soulmate, all the other seats being filled up with his new friends.

“Well, I’m sure you know plenty of other people, so why don’t you go sit with them and leave me the fuck alone.”

MJ was quiet for a few moments, just looking at Peter.  He glared right back, not breaking eye contact, as if he were daring her to say something else.

“Your soul sentence is uncovered,” she said quietly, focusing her gaze on his wrist.

“And?” he retorted, but didn’t bother hiding his wrist.

“And why is it uncovered? You’ve always kept it covered. You never even told Ned and I that it said𑁋” she stopped to look at it for a moment more. “𑁋Jupiter.”

“Well, it’s not like it even fucking matters, considering we’re not friends anymore.”

“But-” MJ started to counter, but Peter’s phone buzzed, interrupting her.  He went to reach for the phone, but she grabbed it first, looking at the notification.

Soulmate<3: Did I scare you off?

It buzzed again.

Soulmate<3: I know how you feel about me spending money on you, but I feel like you’d like Italy a lot!

And again.

Soulmate<3: Just give it some thought. It would be a really fun vacation! I promise Italy is really cool and I have some villas and such in a few cities, so we could travel around the country!

And once more.

Soulmate<3: Anyway I’ll see you this afternoon! I love you!

MJ slowly handed the phone back to Peter, who looked down at the notifications, quickly reading them, before looking up at the girl’s shocked face.  Peter, without a second thought, slung his bag over his shoulder, standing up and walking out of the cafeteria.  After a beat, he heard MJ running after him.  He made no attempt to speed up or hide, simply resigning to his fate of being bombarded by her questions.

“Peter!” MJ called, catching up to the boy.  She eventually did and started walking by his side, having to speed up as he began to power walk.  Eventually the two entered the library and MJ followed Peter all the way to the back, where he set his bag on a table and collapsed onto a chair next to it, glad to be hidden by the bookshelves.

MJ just slowly sat down in the other chair, turning to look at Peter.  He, decidedly, did not meet her eyes.

“So . . . you found your soulmate,” she said more than asked.

“Why does it matter to you?” he snapped, trying to keep his voice down. “Why do you give two shits who my soulmate is?”

“Because we used to be friends.”

“The key phrase there is ‘used to,’ as in, we aren’t friends anymore, so let it go.”

MJ fell silent, her gaze once again falling to Peter’s wrist.  Something felt familiar about it, as if she had some idea of who his soulmate is.

‘What’s your favorite planet?’

‘Jupiter’

MJ’s eyes widened in realization as she looked back up at Peter’s face.

“Holy. Shit,” she said, staring at him.  He turned to her with a suspicious look.

“What?”

“Holy shit!” She still tried to keep her voice down.

“What?!”

“It all makes sense! The lecture, Jupiter, your soul sentence suddenly being uncovered, your soulmate wanting to take you to Italy! Your soulmate is Tony-”

Peter slammed a hand over her mouth, effectively shutting her up.  His eyes were wide as he tried to figure out if anyone had heard her words.  Slowly, giving MJ a look of warning, he took his hand off of her mouth.

“Is he . . . no fucking way,” she said, voice quieter.

Peter’s shoulders sagged and he began to fiddle with his fingers, looking defeated. “Yeah, he’s my soulmate . . .”

MJ paused, just needing to let it sink in.

Peter fucking Parker was Tony fucking Stark’s soulmate.

And, even more than that, Tony fucking Stark was Peter fucking Parker’s soulmate.

“You can’t tell anybody,” Peter told her quietly, anxiety dripping into his voice. “It’ll get leaked to the press and . . . everything will suck for me and him.”

“I . . . I won’t tell anybody,” she promised, “but you’ve gotta answer my questions about it.”

Peter sighed, but nodded.

“Is he, like, actually interested in being in a romantic relationship with you?” MJ asked tentatively.

“I mean, he sets up romantic dinner dates and invites me over all the time and wants to take me to Italy, so you can probably fill in the blanks,” Peter answered, a bit of sarcasm laced into his voice.

“What’s he like?”

“Kind, sweet, supportive, caring.  He’s pretty much everything you could ask for in a soulmate.”

Despite having her own wonderful soulmate, MJ couldn’t help but be a bit jealous by the way Peter described his soulmate with a loving look in his eyes.  A sweet, caring soulmate who wants to whisk you away to Italy over your spring break and set up romantic dates for you all the time?  That’s basically everybody’s dream.  She couldn’t even begin to imagine being adored by a world famous billionaire superhero.  From the loving look in his eyes, MJ could practically see how in love the two were.  Tony Stark probably worshipped the ground Peter walked on and would give him the universe if he asked for it.

Everybody wanted that— MJ wanted that.

“Does he know about, ya know, your alter-ego?”

“He built me a new suit actually.”

“Have you two done it?”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he looked at her in shock. “Jesus Christ, absolutely not. He knows I’m not ready and he’s . . . actually really okay with that.”

The questioning went on and on until the bell rang.  The two stood up and prepared to go their separate ways, but before MJ could leave, Peter grabbed her wrist.  She looked back at him in confusion.

“I was serious when I said that you can’t tell anybody. If anything is leaked to the press, I’ll know exactly who did it and me and my soulmate won’t hesitiate to destroy your entire fucking life.” The girl had never seen Peter act so cold, so she nodded along, a bit scared, until Peter let go of her wrist and she could leave.

That afternoon, Peter could feel MJ’s eyes burning holes into his back as he got in Happy’s car.

+++

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby.  As long as you’re with me, you’ll be just fine.”

-Cigarettes After Sex, Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby

When Peter reached the penthouse floor of Stark Tower and the elevator doors opened, the first thing Tony said to him was “Did I scare you away by asking if you wanted to go to Italy?”

The young man sighed, dropping his bag by the elevator before walking to the living room and collapsing onto the plush couch that probably cost more than his apartment’s rent.  Tony walked after him and lifted Peter’s head up a bit so he could sit down, placing his soulmate’s head down on his lap and beginning to run his fingers through his hair.

Peter hummed a bit at the comforting gesture. “I was going to respond to your text, but then MJ sat down at my lunch table.”

“What did she say?”

“She told me that her soulmate wasn’t there and she wanted to sit with somebody she knew.  Then she commented about how my soul sentence was uncovered.  As soon as I told her that it was none of her business, my phone buzzed.  She read the texts, I ran away to the library, she followed. Long story short, she put all the pieces together and found out that you’re my soulmate.”

Tony sucked in a breath, completely freezing up.

Sensing the man’s anxiety, Peter continued. “I threatened that if she told anybody, then we’d destroy her life. She seemed pretty scared, so I think we’ll be safe.”

The man let out a breath of relief, going back to back to running his fingers through his younger soulmate’s hair.  The two let the room be silent for a little bit, simply basking in each other’s presence.  Finally, Tony spoke up.

“So . . . about Italy.”

Peter sighed.

+++

“What would it feel like to put this baggage down? If I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’d know how.”

-Sleeping At Last, Six

Peter climbed through his window a little past midnight, having gone on patrol right after having dinner with Tony.  He took the suit off and changed into some more comfortable clothes before walking to the kitchen, hoping to grab a snack before he went to sleep.

When he got to the kitchen, Peter found May sitting at the table with a mug of tea.  She appeared to be deep in thought, but looked up when her nephew came in.

“Peter,” she murmured, stopping the boy in his tracks, “can we talk?”

It may have been a question, but Peter knew he couldn’t say no.  So, he padded forward gently and sat down on the chair across from the woman, not meeting her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, making him look up at her. “I haven’t been there for you. I haven’t been a good guardian. I have no excuse. Yes, I was working a lot to pay rent, but . . . I should’ve been checking up on you instead of just assuming that you were okay.”

“Aunt May-”

“No, Peter. I’m sorry. I barely talked to you. For fuck’s sake, I didn’t even know you’d met your soulmate! That’s inexcusable.”

May tore her gaze away from Peter’s eyes, looking down at the table as tears fell.  Guilt came off of her in waves.

“Aunt May, I’m not gonna act like it’s all okay, but I accept your apology. It’s obviously not all gonna go back to normal right now, but I’m willing to put in the effort if you are.”

“Of course I’m willing to put in the effort, Pete.” She met his eyes once more. “You’re my nephew, and I love you.”  She stood up and walked around the table, leaning down to give him a hug.

“I love you too, Aunt May.”

They stayed like that for a few moments before pulling away.  May sat back down, but now on the chair next to Peter.

“Now, tell me about this soulmate of yours.”

Peter laughed a little, giving her a smile as he began to tell her about Tony.  She nodded along and asked questions, chuckling at the stories he told about all the dumb things they’d done together.  Finally, the conversation was starting to wind down.

“He wants to take me to Italy for my spring break,” Peter admitted quietly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“You should go,” May told him.  The young man looked up at her in shock so quickly that he might’ve given himself whiplash.  “I’m serious! It’d be fun for you and it’ll be nice for you to get away with your soulmate for a little bit.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with it?”

“Peter, I only want the best for you.”

+++

“I don’t care if you’re not sorry, I forgive you. And with or without your support I will continue.”

-The Front Bottoms, Cough It Out

Just like the day before, on Wednesday, Peter was sitting at lunch and texting Tony, who was figuring out all the details for their trip to Italy.  Then, because Peter couldn’t go a single day without something happening to him, two people sat down at his table.  He looked up and saw MJ, once again, but she was with her soulmate this time.

“What do you want?” Peter snapped as he turned off his phone.  He kept a hold on it though, not wanting to make the same mistake as last time.

“Um . . . I’m Sydney,” the girl introduced herself, extending a hand across the table.  Peter looked down at it and then back up at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I know. We met before I quit AcaDec,” Peter replied dryly, causing Sydney to retract her hand a bit.  “If you two don’t want anything, then could you very kindly fuck off?”

“I just wanted my soulmate to meet one of my friends,” MJ told him.

“We aren’t friends, Michelle.”

“Look, I’m extending an olive branch here. You obviously have no friends-”

Peter cut her off. “And whose fault is that?  Oh, right, you and Ned’s. Completely forgot that you two cut me off and avoided me for a year and a half!  Funny how stuff like that slips my mind!”

The two girls winced a little bit, not saying anything as Peter went back to looking at his phone and resolutely ignoring them.

“Are you texting your soulmate?” MJ asked him, leaning over the table to see his phone.  Peter quickly pulled it back, shutting it off once more.

“What’s it to you, Jones?” he replied in lieu of an answer.

“I was just curious if you’re going on that Italy trip.”

“Did you tell her?” Peter demanded, leaning into MJ’s space aggressively as his eyes flickered to Sydney for a second. “‘Cause if you did, you’re completely aware that your life would be ruined, right? You know that he would absolutely destroy you everything you’ve ever loved, and for all the shit you’ve put me through, I wouldn’t even try to stop him.”

“Is that a threat?” she challenged.

“It’s a promise.”

Sydney looked back and forth between the two as they stared each other down, her face giving away how confused she was.

“I didn’t,” MJ conceded, leaning away.  With one last glance to the girl’s soulmate, he leaned away too, but there was still that dangerous air to him.

“Smart choice.”

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck is going on?!” Sydney asked, looking absolutely bewildered at the interaction.

“It’s a long story,” MJ replied without tearing her gaze from the boy in front of her, “but that’s not the point. Like, I said, I came to extend an olive branch. You let us sit here at lunch, and we’ll ward off Flash and his clique from coming near you.”

Peter mulled it over in his head, eyeing her suspiciously.  After a few moments, he seemed to make up his mind.

“Fine, but you can’t force me to talk to you.”

“Deal,” MJ agreed, putting a hand forward. Peter shook it before going back to looking at his phone.  Sydney didn’t say anything, but continued to shoot the boy confused looks every once in a while.

“And, Michelle?” Peter piped up just before the bell rang.

“Yeah?”

“We’re still going on that Italy trip.”

The girl gave him a small smile, which he didn’t return, before getting up and leaving, Sydney by her side.

+++

“Aren’t you the guy who tried to hurt me with the word goodbye? Though it took some time to survive you, I’m better on the other side.”

-Dua Lipa, Don’t Start Now

The next week and a half passed in a blur of less bruises than usual, hanging out with Tony, trying to make things go back to normal with May, and sitting with MJ and Sydney during lunch.  Peter didn’t really talk to the two, leaving them to their own devices.  It took him a couple days to even greet them when they sat down, and a few more to make any conversation with them.  He decided that lunch definitely wasn’t his least favorite part of school.

Finally, finally, it was Peter’s last period of the day before he was released from school for his two weeks of spring break.  As soon as that bell rang, he was going to race out of there and go meet Happy, who would drive him to the airport, where he’d board Tony’s private jet and be whisked away to Italy for an incredible vacation with his soulmate.

Everybody was just sitting around and talking, eager for the bell to ring so classes would end and break would begin.  Peter was enthusiastically texting his soulmate, who, despite having traveled to Italy several times, seemed just as excited for the trip as Peter was.

Ned, much like two weeks before, couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to Peter, who was smiling down at his phone.  His eyes drifted to his soul sentence again, where the word “Jupiter” was still beautifully scrawled.  Peter, able to sense the gaze, turned to look at Ned.

“Who are you texting?” Ned asked, trying to play it off.

“It’s nobody,” Peter replied before going back to texting, assuming that the boy would be satisfied with that answer.

Ned, not wanting the conversation to die, continued. “I, uh, I noticed that you’ve been sitting with MJ and Sydney. That’s new, I guess.”

“Less like I’m sitting with them and more like they’re sitting with me.”

Ned, again, was not satisfied, so he tried once more. 

“Are you doing anything over spring break?”

“Some stuff, yeah,” Peter told him, not looking up from his phone. “Doing a bit of traveling.”

“Oh, you and May are going somewhere?”

“Nope.”

Ned sighed, but, for reasons unknown to him, he didn’t want to give up until he got a real answer.

“Are you-”

“Why do you even give a shit?” Peter interrogated, looking up from his phone to face Ned. “We haven’t talked in a year and a half, so I’ve got no fucking clue why you care now.”

“I’m just curious!” Ned defended.

“Why? Because I’ve got a soulmate now? Is that why you’re so fucking curious? Well, I don’t give a shit, Leeds. So why don’t you go run off to your perfect little life with your soulmate and your new friends and leave me the fuck alone.”

“What happened to you, Peter? Why are you like this?”

“Wouldn’t you be oh so eager to know?!”

The bell rang and everybody raced to get out of the classroom, excited for break.  Peter was happy to run out alongside those people, effectively ending the conversation.

Ned moved slower, watching the boy go.  As he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed the crowd, he could only think of what an enigma Peter Parker had become.

+++

“Baby, there’s no question, no competition. I love you more.”

-Son of Cloud, I Love You More

“First time out of country?” Tony asked as he watched Peter stare out the window of his private jet.  The younger man turned to him, looking sheepish.

“Second time out of state.”

“I guess I’ll have to force you to travel with me more.” Tony took Peter’s hand gently in his, rubbing circles into the back of it, and the younger man gently rested his head on his soulmate’s shoulder, feeling happier than he’d felt in a while.

“You already know what I’m going to say to that.”

“I do, but I’m still gonna try.”

Peter only snorted.

+++

“‘Cause I am captivated by you, and I am so in love with the things you do.”

-mxmtoon, late nights

“Holy. Shit.” Peter was standing outside Tony’s villa in Florence as the chauffeur who drove them there brought their bags inside.  The villa was large, with beautiful landscape in the front and an elegant porch that had large curtains drawn open.  Ivy was growing up the walls and there was a balcony on the second floor that spanned the entire length of the house.  It looked grand in the early afternoon light.  He stood, completely entranced, as his soulmate came up beside him and put an arm around his shoulders.

“What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Peter repeated incredulously. “What I think is that this place is absolutely insane!”

Tony only laughed and grabbed the younger man’s hand, pulling him inside the villa.  As expected, it was as luxurious inside as it was outside.  It wasn’t the type of luxurious that the tower was, though.  It was less high tech and more open air, with plush couches and potted plants and large windows and hardwood floors.  It could be described as looking like the embodiment of the typical luxurious Mediterranean house.

Peter looked around in awe as Tony led him up the stairs and through the second floor hallways to their room.  It had a gaudy california king canopy bed and french doors that led out to a balcony overlooking the pool that was in the backyard.  Through an open door, Peter could see a spacious bathroom.  He broke away from Tony’s hold to step forward and examine in, slowly spinning in a circle to take it all in.

“You like it?” Tony asked, bringing snapping Peter out of his trance of astonishment.

“Like? Tony, this place is unbelievable!” the younger man exclaimed as his soulmate walked over to him. “Like, this is practically the most beautiful home in the world.  I’ve never been somewhere that looks like this before!  It’s absolutely extraordinary and I-”

Tony grabbed Peter’s hands in his own, which made the younger man stop rambling and look up at him.

“I just want you to have the most incredible spring break in the world.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile at that.

The late afternoon found the two soulmates lounging in beach chairs by the pool, soaking up the golden rays of the afternoon sun and drinking local wine.

+++

“But it’s too late. You believe in fate.”

-dodie, Absolutely Smitten

“Why do you love me?” Peter asked Tony on their last night in Florence.  They were sitting on the balcony after having gone sight-seeing all day, overlooking the landscaping in front of the villa, with a delicately made cheese and meat platter on the small table between them.

“What?” Tony inquired, turning to look at the young man who was curled up in his chair and looking out over the gardens.

“Why do you love me?” Peter repeated before shifting his gaze to look at his soulmate. “Of all the people in the world?  I know we’re soulmates, but beyond that . . .”

He paused, looking away from Tony again.

“What did you even see in me that made you want to be my soulmate when you easily could’ve walked away and never seen me again?”

It was silent for a few moments, Peter simply staring out over the balcony railing and Tony studying him.

“I spent thirty-one years thinking I didn’t have a soulmate.”

Peter turned to look at him, but he had started staring out at the landscape.

“Honestly, when I got my soulmark, I felt so guilty. I couldn’t help but wonder what poor soul would be stuck with me as a soulmate. I intended on never going out looking for my soulmate.  I didn’t want to burden whoever it was in that way, they didn’t deserve that. I spent all this time trying to avoid my soulmate, and then I ran straight into you. Funny how fate works, right?”

Peter tore his gaze away from Tony and looked down at his lap, messing with the hem of his shirt.

“And then I met you, and I felt guilty all over again, but it wasn’t the same. I felt guilty because you were suffering, looking for anybody to hold onto, and I was out there, in the same exact city, doing everything I could to avoid you.”

Peter looked up at his soulmate, who was already looking at him, and their eyes met.

“I couldn’t𑁋 can’t let you go. You’re sweet and kind and compassionate and a genius. You were this ethereal being that crashed right into my life and, if you met me and still wanted to stay, then there was no way I could let you go.”

Peter closed his eyes, tears gently rolling down his cheeks.  Tony shifted forward and wiped them away with the pad of his thumb and the young man leaned into the touch.

“I love you,” Tony whispered.

Peter opened his eyes and looked up at him. “I love you too.”

+++

“Love has flooded my heart and there’s rain in Venice for the first time.”

-Steve Harley, Rain in Venice

Tony’s villa in Venice was along the canals.  It, of course, was smaller than the one in Florence, but it was just as elegant.  The moment they entered the city, Peter fell in love with the canals and the buildings lining the water.  Tony made a mental note to bring him to Amsterdam one day.

The days spent in Venice were much more laid back than those spent in Florence.  Tony took Peter to the Teatro La Fenice to see a ballet performance and they spent the days visiting old churches and being rowed through the canals.  Peter had insisted they visit the Ghetto Ebraico di Venezia, the small part of the island that the Jews in Venice had been forced to move to in 1516, as he had promised May he’d go to get a bit closer to his Sephardic roots.

Peter had seen movies that took place in Venice, rom-coms and such, but he took them all with a grain of salt.  Over the course of his stay in Venice, he began to wonder if perhaps those movies weren’t as fictional as he thought after all.

+++

“Hold my hand, darling. Pull me in your waters. When you call my name, I’ll be on my way.”

-Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Pacific Love

As Peter had predicted, Tony’s villa right outside of Rome was just as fanciful as the one in Florence, with a fountain out front, several balconies, an outdoor shower that overlooked vineyards, and an even more elegant pool in the back.  They had arrived there towards the evening, just as the sun was beginning to set, so they decided to eat dinner on the balcony connected to their bedroom, watching the sun go down as they talked about their plans for the next day.  There were so many museums to visit and sights to see𑁋 and there were a few places that couldn’t not go.

The Colosseum, the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, the Sistine Chapel, the Arch of Constantine, and the Vaticans were must-sees, of course, but more was added to the plans for the rest of the trip, such as going to a wine tasting and seeing Palatine Hill.

As Peter slipped his hand into Tony’s, he reminisced about how everything felt right.

+++

[snapshot; Florence, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark are sitting on lounge chairs by the pool in the late afternoon with two half-full wine glasses sitting on the small table between them.  They are both in shorts and a t-shirt.  Both are smiling, laughing over something.]

[snapshot; Florence, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are walking along the Ponte Vecchio.  They are holding hands.]

[snapshot; Florence, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are in the Uffizi Palace and Gallery.  Stark is reading the plaque next to a statue while Parker looks up at said statue.]

[snapshot; Florence, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are walking through the Boboli Gardens, holding hands.]

[snapshot; Florence, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark are eating dinner on the front balcony of Stark’s villa.  They appear to be laughing about something.]

[snapshot; Venice, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are being rowed along in a traghetti along the canals of the city.  Parker is looking at the buildings in awe while Stark is looking at him lovingly.]

[snapshot; Venice, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are eating dinner at a restaurant along the canal.  Parker is taking a sip from his wine glass while Stark appears to be telling him a dramatic story.]

[snapshot; Venice, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are sitting across from each other in a cafe.  Both have a cup of coffee in front of them.  Stark appears to be speaking while Parker is giving him a look of fond exasperation.]

[snapshot; Venice, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are walking into the Teatro La Fenice to see a ballet.  They are both dressed nicely.]

[snapshot; Venice, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are standing in front of a synagogue at the Ghetto Ebraico di Venezia.  Parker looks extremely emotional and Stark has an arm around his shoulder.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are standing in one of the rows of the Colosseum, overlooking it.  Parker looks amazed and Stark is looking at him with a smile.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are standing in front of the Pantheon, looking up at it.  They are holding hands.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are at the Trevi fountain.  Parker has his back to the fountain and his eyes closed as he throws a coin over his shoulder into the water.  Stark watches him with a smile.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark are sitting on the ledge of the pool, both in swim trunks, with their feet dipping in.  Each has a glass of wine beside them.  Parker is leaning his head on Stark’s shoulder.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are standing in front of the Arch of Constantine.  They are holding hands.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are walking through a vineyard.  They appear to be going to a wine tasting.  They are holding hands and Parker appears to be talking.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker and Tony Stark, who is in a disguise, are sitting on a picnic blanket in a park with grapes, cheese, meat, and wine in front of them.  Parker has a homemade flower crown on his head that he appears to have made from the wild flowers around them. Parker is putting a homemade flower crown on Stark’s head and the latter is looking at him with a fond smile.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker is leaning over the edge of the balcony connected to the villa’s master bedroom.  Parker is wearing only a too-big button down shirt and a pair of shorts.  He is holding a wine glass in his hand.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker is leaning over the edge of the balcony connected to the villa’s master bedroom.  Parker is wearing only a too-big button down shirt and a pair of shorts.  He is holding a wine glass in his hand. Tony Stark is hugging him from behind.  Stark’s head is resting on Parker’s shoulder.  They are looking out over the vineyards.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker is sitting in a chair by the pool with a journal and pen in hand.  Stark sits beside him, reading a book.]

[snapshot; Rome, Italy; Peter Parker is standing alone on the balcony in the front of the villa.  He has a slightly sad smile on his face and he leans over the railing.  He appears to be looking up at the stars.  His mouth is open, like he’s saying something.]

+++

“But I’m gonna have to learn that this love will never be convenient.”

-The Front Bottom, Tattooed Tears

On the day that the two soulmates were meant to fly back home, Peter woke up to his phone buzzing incessantly on the nightstand.  Sluggishly, he pulled himself up a bit and grabbed it, looking through the notifications.  His Instagram suddenly was getting a ton of new comments and followers and people were tweeting at him, asking about being with Tony.  Panicked, he opened up Safari and typed in his name.  It came up with pictures of him and Tony throughout their trip in Italy and news articles about who he was.

Peter turned his phone off and set it back down on the bedside table.  He pulled himself out of Tony’s arms and got out of the bed.  He stood up, but just froze, staring out the window.  He didn’t even notice when tears began dripping down his face.

“Peter?” Tony asked groggily, blinking against the light shining in through the window.  The younger man turned around and faced him.  Once Tony saw the tears, he shot up and scrambled out of bed.  He gently took Peter’s hands and led him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“They found out,” Peter told him, voice choking up.

“Found out about what?” Tony rubbed circles on the back of his soulmate’s hand.  Peter grabbed his phone off the table and pulled up Safari again, showing Tony the search results from earlier.  The man only stared at the news articles and pictures of them, disbelief and a bit of fear shining in his eyes.

“Someone must’ve leaked something to a tabloid cause they’ve been following us and I . . . I don’t know what to do.” Tears came down faster as Peter rambled on.

Tony let go of the younger man’s hand and wrapped him in an embrace, pulling him close to his chest.  “I promise, we’ll figure this out.  We’ll put together a press conference and, afterwards, we’ll destroy the life of whoever leaked it.  Everything will be fine.  I’ll be right there beside you the entire time.”

As Peter’s sobbing slowed, the two pulled away.  Tony kept his hands on Peter’s shoulders though, whether to ground himself or his soulmate, he wasn’t sure.

“I’m gonna call Michelle,” Peter declared, determination seeping into his tone, “and I’m gonna figure out if she pulled this shit or knows who did.”

Tony only gave a nod as Peter pulled up the old contact from when the two teens were still friends, intertwining his hand with Peter’s free one.

The phone barely finished ringing once when the girl picked up, Peter putting her on speaker.

“Peter, I know it looks bad, but I wasn’t the one who pulled this shit,” MJ told him before he could even get a word out.

“Why should I trust you?” Peter bit back, but his voice wavered a bit.

“You know me. You know I wouldn’t have done this. We may not be friends, but I wouldn’t hurt you like this, I wouldn’t ruin things like this. You know that.”

Peter let out a shaky sigh. “You wouldn’t have. I know that, but did you tell anybody?”

“I only told Sydney because she was demanding answers out of me, but I already talked to her this morning and she was freaking out about the whole thing, genuinely worried about you. I told her before decathlon practice so nobody was there that could’ve heard-”

MJ paused, her end of the line going silent.

“Holy shit, I think I know who leaked it!”

“Who?! Please, MJ, you gotta tell me.”

“Flash must’ve gotten there early or something! We both know everybody on the team and none of them would do this except for him!”

Peter paused, the realization that Flash had fucked up his life more than he already had with his bullying sinking in.

“Peter, I’m so sorry . . .”

“I know you didn’t mean for him to overhear it, MJ.  I don’t blame you.”

“Hey, Peter?” she asked.

“Yeah?” he responded cautiously.

“Fuck up his entire life for me, would ya?”

“What else would I do? Let him get away with this shit? He’s gonna regret this shit for the rest of his life.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Peter hung up the phone and turned to Tony. His eyes shone with determination as he thought of how much he was going to fuck up Flash’s life. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“Really?” Tony laughed. “Because I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Then I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

+++

“Does that seem right? Wade through pain to know the chosen life?”

-Jack Stauber, Pizza Boy

The moment Peter and Tony got off their eight and a half hour flight from Rome to New York, they were being whisked off to a press conference.  When they reached backstage, Pepper threw them each a pair of clothes and ordered that they go freshen up in the bathroom so they don’t look like absolute shit at the conference.

When they got back to her, she was pacing back and forth rambling off orders to an assistant, who looked freaked out.  She stopped when the two soulmates showed back up, now looking like they were actually ready to face the press.

“Pepper, I’m so-” 

“Peter, don’t say sorry. This wasn’t your fault,” the CEO told him before turning to both of the soulmates. “I may be stressed about this whole thing, but I’m not mad at either of you.”

Peter gave her a small, sad smile that she returned.

Footsteps were heard behind the two soulmates, so they whipped around, coming face-to-face with Rhodey.  The man quickly extended a hand towards Peter.  The young man took it, the two shaking before separating.

“I’m Rhodey, though I’m hoping Tony already told you about me,” he introduced with a humorous tone, but everybody could tell he was trying to hide his nervousness. Peter gave a smile a nod at that. “I’m glad to finally meet you, Peter, but I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.”

“I wish it wasn’t either, but I think it’s gonna be okay.”

As the clock hit three pm, Pepper walked out on stage and to the podium.  Reporters began yelling questions, but she held up a hand to silence them.

“As you are all aware, some photos came out recently after an unknown person leaked Dr. Stark’s new relationship to the press. Before anything else is said, I would like to let you all know that this was highly inappropriate, not only leaking this relationship, but also taking pictures of someone’s private life. The reporter who did this had absolutely no right to do so and there will be repercussions.”

The room stayed silent as she paused.

“Unfortunately, what has happened cannot be undone, and so we must have this press conference much earlier than we were hoping to. Now, Dr. Stark and Mr. Parker will come out to answer questions.”

Pepper stepped away from the podium as Peter and Tony walked onstage, one of Peter’s hands intertwined with Tony's.  The younger of the two winced a little bit as the cameras began flashing and questions were yelled at them.  As they stepped up to the podium, Tony raised a hand, signaling everybody to be silent.  Luckily, it worked; the man had always been the kind of person who could control the room.

“You all know me, but, due to unfortunate circumstances beyond our control, today, I am introducing you all to Peter Parker, my soulmate.”

The room went up in a frenzy as he said the word “soulmate,” reporters taking pictures and more questions being yelled.  Tony held up a hand once more before motioning to Peter to speak.

“Hi. My name is Peter Parker, and I apologize because I’m new to this whole ‘press conference’ thing, and by new, I mean this is the first time I’ve even stepped foot into one,” the young man introduced sheepishly.  The crowd gave light laughs at what he’d said.

“We will now be taking questions,” Tony announced.  Hands went up and questions were yelled. The man searched through the crowd, eventually picking someone. “Yes, the reporter from CNN.”

“Mr. Parker, according to what’s been revealed through the press leak, you are eighteen, correct?” When Peter gave a nod, the woman continued. “So when and how did you and Dr. Stark meet?”

“It’s kind of a funny story actually,” Peter replied a bit sheepishly. “About three months ago, Tony was actually giving a lecture at my school about aerodynamics and, since it was only the senior class, we were all allowed to ask one question, so that’s how we found out.”

“Um . . . the reporter from the Washington Post,” Peter called out before the room could get too crazy.

“What do your soul sentences say?” the reporter asked.

“Mine says, ‘What’s your favorite planet?’” Tony answered, holding up his wrist.

“And mine says, ‘Jupiter.’” Peter held up his wrist too.  Cameras flashed as the reporters rushed to take pictures of them showing off their soul sentences. The soulmates met eyes and gave each other a smile before looking back out at the sea of people.

“Reporter from the Wall Street Journal.”

“Dr. Stark and Mr. Parker, why did you two decide to keep your relationship hidden once you two met?”

“We kinda wanted to keep it on the down low until I graduated high school,” Peter admitted shyly.

“We knew it would affect both of our lives once the public knew,” Tony continued, “and we wanted to wait until we were ready. As you can see, though, the choice to wait was taken from us.”

“Uh . . . the reporter from the LA Times,” Peter called.

“Mr. Parker, seeing as you are being introduced into the limelight, would you be willing to tell us some more about you?”

“Uh, sure, I suppose,” the young man answered, a bit surprised by the question. He’d never really been asked about himself, as most people weren’t very interested in what he did. “I’m sure you all already know, but I’m a senior at Midtown School of Science and Technology, so you can assume I’m a bit of a nerd.”

“‘A bit’,” Tony said with a snort.

“You don’t get to talk. You’re practically the king of nerds!” Peter shot back, causing his soulmate to fondly roll his eyes.

“Besides that,” he continued, getting back to the question, “I like to read poetry and draw. Also, I believe one of the photos was Tony and I in the Jewish ghetto of Venice. We were walking through because I insisted, seeing as I’m Jewish. Side note, I can’t believe that with all the Jewish guilt I grew up with, my soulmate still ended up being a goy. My ancestors must be so disappointed that I didn’t score a nice Jewish boy.”

The crowd laughed at that and Tony gave him a playful shove that the young man returned.

“The reporter from the Huffington Post!”

“Mr. Parker, it’s going around that you are going to MIT in the fall, and that is Dr. Stark’s alma mater, correct? Could you tell us about that?”

“I am going to MIT in the fall, that is correct,” Peter replied before Tony cut in.

“And before anybody says anything, Peter got accepted to MIT before we even met each other, so I had nothing to do with it.”

Peter nodded along before calling on another reporter.

“Mr. Parker, obviously you are being thrust into the spotlight very quickly. Do you feel able to stand it and everything that comes with it?” asked the reporter from the New York Post.

“It’s definitely going to take some getting used to, and I wish I had been able to do it on my own terms, but I think I’ll be able to get through it. Plus, I have Pepper to make sure I don’t say anything too embarrassing.”  Peter smiled at Pepper offstage.

“Reporter from the Daily Bugle,” Tony called out and Peter felt a sense of dread.

“Now, seeing as you, Mr. Parker, are 18 and you, Dr. Stark, are 49, there is a 31 year age gap between the two of you. Is nobody else worried about this? Mr. Parker, do you parents feel okay about this? Are they worried that you’re being taken advantage of?” The reporter looked smug.

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but Peter cut in before he could.

“First of all, obviously soulmate relationships don’t always seem conventional, they go beyond traditional. It’s not like we can argue against fate. Second, nobody else is worried about this because I am an adult who can think for myself and recognize when relationships are toxic. Third of all, if you took five minutes to look up the information about me that people found once my identity was leaked, you would know that my parents are dead and I was raised by my aunt and, by the way, she’s just fine with me being in a happy relationship.”

The room went silent, everybody taking a moment to absorb the answer that the young man had just given.  Before long, the conference got going again.

“The reporter in the very back. I apologize cause I can’t see what company you’re with, the man in the blue shirt.”

“I’m with Breitbart News,” he told them. “I was wondering, despite being soulmates, is this a more traditional relationship or more of a monetary exchange?”

“Are . . . are you asking if I’m a sugar baby?” Peter questioned incredulously.

“I was trying to say it in more formal terms, but, yes, that is basically what I was saying.”

“No hate to people who make money that way, but I’m not a sugar baby. This is a genuine relationship.”

“You should see how much I try to get him to let me spend money on him,” Tony cut in with a smile. “When I suggested we go to Italy for his spring break, it took hours of arguing to finally get him to agree to go. Even then, I think it was just because I wore him out.”

Peter rolled his eyes but gave a smile.

“One last question. We’ll take it from the NPR reporter towards the back.”

“Mr. Parker, do you have any plans for working at Stark Industries?”

Peter lightly smiled at that. “I was already working with Tony in the lab and I’ll continue to do that, but I think Pepper wants me to look around a little bit in the business side of the company, so I’ll probably end up shadowing her for a bit.”

“Thank you all for coming,” Tony called out before he and Peter walked off stage, both waving as they did so.

When they got off, they were greeted by Pepper, who had a big grin on her face, along with May, who had finally gotten to the tower in the middle of the conference.  She came up and gave her nephew a big hug, making sure he was okay.  After several reassurances that he was fine, May pulled back, satisfied.

“Do you think it went well?” Peter asked Pepper anxiously.

“I think it went better than expected.”

+++

“He’s never gonna make it. All the poor people he’s forsaken. Karma is always gonna chase him for his lies.”

-Alec Benjamin, Outrunning Karma

The moment that Peter arrived at school, he already knew it was going to be a bad day.  As he stared through the windshield at all the paparazzi surrounding the school, he let out a tired sigh.  Tony had tried to convince Peter to let him drive him to Midtown, but he had refused, thinking he was prepared to face his newfound stardom on his own.  As he sat in the driver's seat, gazing out at the sea of reporters and students while anxiety bubbled in his gut, Peter began to regret not taking Tony up on his offer.

Deciding he couldn’t delay it any longer, Peter turned off the car, grabbed his backpack from the passenger's seat, and opened the door.  He stepped out of the car, swinging the bag over his shoulder as he closed the door and locked the car Tony had lended him.  The slam of the door alerted people to his presence, and he was quickly crowded with paparazzi.  Gritting his teeth, Peter attempted to move through the horde, slowly getting through.  By the time he made it through the entrance of Midtown, he felt like he’d spent hours just trying to push through the reporters.

To nobody’s surprise, all the students in the lobby stared at Peter as he came into the building.  He tried his best to ignore their gawking as he walked through the halls to his locker.  As he turned down the first hallway from the lobby, two people came up on either side of him.  He looked to them, feeling anxious, but realized that it was only MJ and Sydney, standing by him as if they were guards.

“Are you doing okay?” Sydney asked him, genuine worry laced into her voice.

“As okay as I can be at the moment,” Peter replied, but gave her a smile that she returned.

“So . . . not very okay?” MJ questioned with a hint of sarcasm.  Peter let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, not very okay, but at least I’ve got my two friends to help me.”

Both MJ and Sydney stopped in their tracks, Peter stopping only a foot ahead of them as he quickly realized they fell behind.  He turned around, giving the two a questioning look.  They slowly came back to his sides and began to walk with the young man, both looking a bit tentative.

“Are we . . .” Sydney started but trailed off.

“Are we friends?” MJ asked him quietly.

“Yeah . . .” Peter replied quietly, “I think we’re friends.”  He turned and smiled at them and they returned it as they got back to their normal pace. 

As the three rounded the final corner, they all stopped, finding Flash and his little posse of rich assholes all standing in front of Peter’s locker, the leader of the group leaning right back against it with a smug smile on his face.

“Well, if it isn’t the sugar baby slut himself, Peter Parker!” Flash announced to the hallway, causing Peter to roll his eyes. “Oh, are you getting an attitude now?”

“Can I just get to my locker, Flash?” the boy asked, him, MJ, and Sydney walking forward until they were right in front of the clique.

“Damn, you're moody today, Parker. Has being spoiled by your sugar daddy made you whiny when you don’t get what you want?”  Flash’s gang laughed while MJ and Sydney looked like they were getting ready for a fight.  The student lining the halls whispered to each other as they watched.

“Listen, I’ve dealt with enough bullshit these past few days already, so can you just lay off for the first time in seven years? Get your head out of your ass and take a moment to look past your own ego. Isn’t bad enough that my relationship and my identity got leaked for the entire world to see and now I’m gonna be followed by paparazzi until I die?!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Parker! That must be so hard! I wonder who in the world could’ve leaked your identity?” Flash’s fake sympathetic face turned into a smug grin once more as he reached the end of his sentence.

Flash was expecting Peter to cry or scream or punch him.  He was waiting for the boy to storm off or get into a full blown fight with him.  Internally, he was hoping he would be lucky enough to see him have a full breakdown in the middle of the hallway.

What Flash wasn’t expecting was for Peter to start laughing.  A huge grin spread across the brunet’s face and he looked away for a second, running his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip and turning back to Flash, all while chuckling like a mad man.

“You're an absolute idiot. You do realize that, right?” Peter asked once he stopped laughing.  The smile was still on his face.

“What?” Flash shot back, brow creasing.

“I said that you, Eugene Thompson, are an absolute idiot.”

“What are you on about, Parker?”  Flash took a threatening step towards the boy.  To his surprise, though, the brunet didn’t look scared in the slightest.

“No, wait, I think he’s onto something,” MJ cut in with a somewhat sadistic grin.

“Yeah, I can see where you’re going with this, Peter,” Sydney added, appearing to be in on whatever the boy was talking about.

“Spit it out, Parker,” Flash threatened, towering over the other boy.

“You do realize my soulmate is Tony Stark, right?”

“Obviously,” Flash retorted, rolling his eyes. “The entire world knows now because somebody was so cruel as to give away your identity to a reporter!” He looked proud of himself.

“A reporter who trespassed onto private properties owned by Tony several times in order to get those pictures.”

“So what?”

Peter snorted, looking up at the boy in disbelief. “I can’t believe you aren’t catching on to what I’m implying.”

Flash’s brow creased even more.  A feeling of dread built in his stomach as Peter looked at him, eyes filled with pure, unadulterated glee, as if everything he ever wanted was about to come true.

“Can you even begin to imagine how mad my soulmate is about me not being able to come forward about my relationship with him on my own terms?” Peter questioned, voice laced with slightly sadistic happiness. “And can your tiny brain even process how much power he holds in the world? And do you have any idea of how much my soulmate genuinely cares about me? Maybe, since you are on the decathlon team, you’ll find a way to connect the dots.”

Flash paled, him and all of his posse taking a step back from the boy.

“Now, how do you think Tony felt when, on the day he met me, his soulmate, I was covered in bruises and scrapes and had a black eye because of you? And then how do you think he felt when I told him about how you’d been bullying me for seven years? And how about when I kept flinching cause I was terrified I was gonna get hit like I did every day in these very hallways? How livid do you think my soulmate is right now? I can promise that he’s ten times more angry than that.”

Flash was trembling, staring at the boy who could ruin his life with a single word.

“Peter, do you remember what you told me when I first found out about who your soulmate was?” MJ asked the brunet with an evil grin directed at Flash.

“Of course!” Peter turned to look at MJ. “I believe I said, ‘If anything is leaked to the press, I’ll know exactly who did it and me and my soulmate won’t hesitiate to destroy your entire fucking life,’ and later I told you that it wasn’t a threat, but a promise.” He turned back to flash. “And, lemme tell you something, Flash, I never go back on promises.”

The bully was shrinking in on himself, gazing wide eyed at Peter.

“I’m not gonna encourage Tony to do anything,” Peter told him with a kinder smile, and the boy began to gain back his confidence. “But I’m not gonna stop him either. Now, can I get to my locker?”

Flash quickly scurried out of Peter’s way and his gaggle of rich kids dispersed immediately, leaving him standing there beside the locker.  As Peter grabbed his things, he made conversation with MJ and Sydney, the three swapping stories from spring break. Halfway through MJ’s story about how she and Sydney got gal-pal’d at a cafe where they were having a date, Peter closed his locker door to see Flash still next to his locker.

“Why are you still here?”

“Your soulmate . . . he isn’t actually gonna hurt me, right?” the bully asked, voice wavering like Peter had never seen before.

“He isn’t going to hurt you, Flash,” Peter replied with a smile. “He’s gonna hurt your future and I’m not gonna stop him.”

Without another word, the three teens left, heading to their first class, as Flash just watched them go, wondering what would happen to him.

+++

“And for a moment I thought you were there, but, then again, it wasn’t true.”

-AURORA, Runaway

The day passed in a blur of stares and teachers being unusually nice to Peter.  Despite how nice it was to not have to deal with bullies, Peter felt worn out by the time he collapsed into his seat in physics, his last class of the day.  About a minute after he sat down, other people started flooding in.  Ned sat down at the desk next to him but awkwardly kept his gaze towards the front of the room.  When the bell rang, Mr. Harrington stood up from his desk and closed the door before standing in front of the chalkboard.

“Today we’re going to continue the renewable energy unit that we started before spring break. Keeping true to our syllabus, we’ve covered hydroelectric, biomass burning, solar energy, wind power, and geothermal. As I told you at the beginning of the fall semester, in an attempt to keep up with modern science, they added on an extra energy source to look at.  After that, we’ll be finished with this unit.”

Most of the class let out a sigh of relief.  Physics units tended to drag on and everybody was glad to be moving onto something new.

“So for the next couple of days,” the man said, taking a glance down at the clipboard he was holding, “we’ll be talking about Stark Industries’ arc reactor technology as a renewable energy source.” He stopped and looked up at the class, and at one student in particular.

Peter was looking forwards at the board, decidedly ignoring all the eyes on him.  The room was silent for a few moments as everybody just stared at the boy sitting in the back corner of the room.

“If you wanna say something, then go ahead and say it,” Peter dared, finally looking away from the board.  The class looked slightly apprehensive and he figured that news about his little confrontation with Flash must’ve gotten around.

“Well . . .” Mr. Harrington started uneasily, “I suppose we just, uh, you know . . . had something to say about it since . . . since you’re . . .”

“Since I’m what?” the brunet replied with a challenging glint in his eye.

“Since you’re . . . well . . . uh . . . well, I don’t wanna make you uncom-”

“No, I wouldn’t be, so why don’t you go ahead and tell me what I am,” Peter tested with a dangerous smile, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

The tension in the classroom was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I thought you'd like to say something about the arc reactor technology since you are, um, Tony Stark’s, you know, uh, soulmate and all,” Mr. Harrington quickly rambled, his voice lowered a bit as if hoping Peter wouldn’t hear it.

Everybody stayed quiet as Peter uncrossed his arms and leaned forward a bit, putting an elbow on his desk and resting his chin in his hand as if bored.  “Well, it’s a fusion reactor that can produce an electromagnetic field, provide renewable energy, the whole nine yards. It has a palladium core and a new element was synthesized to stop the reaction within Tony’s body due the palladium that was poisoning him, et cetera. Can we get back to normal class please?”

Slowly, everybody turned back to the front of the room, where Mr. Harrington was frozen.  Seeing the eyes on him, he jumped back to reality and started the lesson.

Towards the end of the class, Ned worked up the courage to rip a bit of paper off of the page he’d been writing in and pass a note to Peter.  He watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy opened it, looked at it with raised eyebrows for a moment, scribbled something down, and then carelessly threw it back to him.  Ned picked it up and saw what was inside.

Under his original note, which read ‘so what happened at the beginning of class was crazy, right?’ was Peter’s simple response of, ‘I guess.’

Ned just let out a sigh and crumbled up the note, shoving it into his backpack and giving up for the time being.

When the bell rang, Peter rushed out of class and Ned ran after him.  By the time he got outside of the classroom and caught sight of his old friend, though, the boy was walking with MJ and Sydney, the three of them laughing over something.

‘When did they become friends?’

+++

“As I watched you walk away, I felt something in me change.”

-Sorority Noise, Blonde Hair, Black Lungs

Ned spent the rest of the week trying to talk to Peter in physics, the only class he had with the boy, and watching him, MJ, and Sydney hanging out during lunch or in the halls together.  All of the students stayed out of the way of the three friends, more terrified of Peter than MJ, despite how much scarier her demeanor was.

Despite all of his friends and his soulmate, Ned was realizing that he missed Peter a lot.  He yearned for their days of going to the library during lunch to hide from Flash and having Star Wars marathons with the boy.  He couldn’t believe that he’d let go of his best friend so easily after their years together.

“No, no, really!” Peter’s voice cut through Ned’s thoughts. The table Peter sat at with MJ and Sydney was actually pretty close to his own and he couldn’t help but let his eyes drift over.

The two girls were laughing, but he was laughing with them.

“I swear!” the brunet got out through his laughs. “He walked in and went, ‘Do you know who Jimmy Fallon is?’ and I was so confused because who the fuck doesn’t know who Jimmy Fallon is?!”

Peter and Ned used to video call and watch Jimmy Fallon together on school nights, talking about how they hoped to get invited onto the show one day and why they would be invited.

“And then what did he say?” Sydney prompted.

“He just goes, ‘I was hoping you did because Pep scheduled you to go on his show on Friday’ and I just immediately walked out on him!”

Ned watched MJ open her mouth to say something, but a hand waved in front of his face, breaking him out of his trance.  He turned and saw Jacob, his soulmate, looking at him in concern.

“You okay?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind.”

In the background, he heard MJ say, “That’s honestly insane! I would love to be on Jimmy Fallon!” and Peter responded, “Tony said I’m allowed to bring people backstage, so you two should come with me tonight!”

In the foreground, he heard his mind wishing it was him that Peter was inviting.

+++

“Shooting stars never fly for me. My heart’s on Mars, kinda hard to see.”

-Shakka, When Will I See You Again

That night found Ned on the couch with his mom, Emilia, The Tonight Show playing on the TV.  He had been home alone for a little over a week since his dad was (and still was at that moment) on a business trip and his mom was out volunteering with the Red Cross to bring water to a small village in Lebanon, meaning that she’d been completely disconnected from the news cycle.  Before long, the interview portion of the show came up, and Ned felt dread building up in his stomach.

“With us tonight, we’ve got a young man from Queens who was recently thrown into the spotlight, and I have the honor of being the first talk show host to interview him. You probably already figured it out, but Peter Parker is here with us tonight!”

“No fucking way,” Emilia breathed as she watched her son’s friend walk out on stage, shake hands with Jimmy Fallon, and sit down on the chair closest to the desk. She turned to her son with confusion written across her face. “Ned, why the fuck would Peter be on The Tonight Show?”

Ned opened his mouth to answer but Peter talking on screen stopped him. “Thank you so much for having me!”

“Of course!” Jimmy responded with a smile. “I’m glad I get to be the first person to interview you after the press conference! Speaking of which, you did great in that!”

Ned and his mom just watched the show, frozen.

“Thank you!” Peter replied with a laugh. “I was a bit worried that Pepper would be mad at me after I low key popped off at that Breitbart reporter . . . and when I just suddenly started talking about being Jewish and proceeded to call Tony a goy on stage.”

The audience laughed while Peter gave a sheepish smile.

“But, in terms of scoring a non-Jewish soulmate, Tony Stark is pretty high up there!”

“Holy fuck,” Emilia whispered, eyes glued to the screen.

“I guess, but have you seen Thor’s abs?” Peter joked. “I mean, I would gladly become a pagan if it ensured that he was my soulmate.”

The audience laughed once more, Jimmy joining in.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Tony and I love each other a lot.”

Awww’s sounded in the crowd while Peter gave a shy grin.

“Ned, what the actual fuck?” Emilia exclaimed, turning to her son, who gave a shrug before they both turned back to the TV, unable to stop watching.

“What’s it like being soulmates with Tony Stark? Is he as suave and smooth as people remember from his playboy years?” Jimmy questioned, leaning forward with his arms on his desk as if the young man was about to tell him some hot gossip.

“Absolutely not,” Peter replied plainly, making everybody chuckle. “He’s sweet, he’s supportive, he’s an absolutely incredible soulmate, but he’s also a huge dumbass.”

“Wait, you can’t just leave us hanging! You gotta tell us what he does!”

“Tony just forgets that he’s a human sometimes. Like, he somehow just doesn’t remember that he needs to eat and sleep. One of his little robots, Dum-E, likes to make him smoothies, but he puts motor oil in them, and usually Tony knows better than to drink them, but when he’s tired, he doesn’t even think twice.”

“Holy shit!” Jimmy choked out through his laughter. 

“Not to mention that he is nothing like the playboy persona he’s portrayed as. Affection and gift-giving are one-hundred percent his love languages. Everybody’s like ‘Tony Stark is a cool playboy who only cares about sex and being rich,’ but half the time we’re together is just us holding hands and hugging and cuddling.”

“This is absolutely incredible,” Jimmy says. “You got your identity leaked, got right off a flight from Italy, went to a press conference, told off a reporter, and then five days later literally destroyed the entire persona Tony Stark had built up. You’re amazing.”

“Somebody’s gotta tell the world that Tony loves setting up romantic dates and watching shitty rom-coms and if nobody else is going to, then it is my moral responsibility.”

“Absolutely incredible,” the host repeated, looking out at the audience and motioning to the young man before going back to his original position of looking at him. “So, what’s up for you next? What’re your plans?”

“Well, I’m graduating high school in a little less than a month and I’m going to MIT in the fall, which I’m super excited about! As for the summer, Tony is almost certainly gonna try and take me traveling, and as much as I tell him that it’s okay and he doesn’t need to do that for me, he won’t stop trying. He’s stubborn as all hell.”

“That's so nice though!”

“It’s really sweet, but it takes time to get used to having a soulmate who’s rich. Like, I live in a two-bedroom apartment in Queens with my aunt and now, suddenly, I have a soulmate who can just hang out in Paris for a weekend like it’s nothing. It’s like whiplash!”

“That’s absolutely insane.”

“I know, right? But it’s also really nice to have access to good scientific equipment so I can work on projects that I’m really hoping can help people!”

Jimmy nodded along, motioning for Peter to continue.

“Well, I’m working on making these bandages that are modeled after Spider-Man’s webs that would be biodegradable and also more effective than regular bandages because they could go on any size cut and wouldn’t fall off as easily. Plus they could be used in an emergency to stop someone from bleeding out from a stab or gunshot wound! Besides that, we're working with the Trevor Project to set up a shelter in Queens for homeless LGBTQ youth.”

“You seem really committed to these projects,” Jimmy told him sincerely, causing the young man to smile.

“I mean,” Peter replied quietly, “if you have the power to do something and you don’t, then how are you better than the bad guys? Now that I have the ability to help people across the world, I’m not going to stand on the sidelines and watch them suffer anyways. So I’m really glad that Tony and I are working on some great projects and that we’re going to help a lot of people.”

“Peter Parker, everybody!” Jimmy exclaimed, motioning to the young man, who blushed as the audience cheered for him.  Standing up and shaking the host’s hand once more, Peter waved as he walked back off stage, the applause following him as he went.

“Coming up, we have our guest performance from-”

Emilia turned off the TV and let the room fall into silence.  Ned looked over at her as she just stared at the black screen.  Slowly, she turned and met his eyes.

“So . . . Peter is Tony Stark’s soulmate?” Emilia asked her son distantly.

“Nobody knew until a bunch of photos of them on vacation in Italy were leaked,” Ned explained.

“He didn’t tell you? I thought you two told each other everything?!” Emilia’s tone echoed with confusion and concern.

“We haven’t really talked in a year in a half,” the boy admitted. “We kinda stopped being friends after I met Jacob, and then he didn’t really hang with anybody after MJ met Sydney.”

“You just left him all alone?”

Despite Ned knowing what he’d done in the back of his mind, the weight of it didn’t occur to him until that moment.  He was the reason Peter never had any protection from bullies. He was the reason Peter was always covered in bruises. He was the reason Peter stopped caring about everything and everyone around him.

If you have the power to do something and you don’t, then how are you better than the bad guys?

“Yeah . . . I guess I did.”

“You should talk to him,” Emilia told him quietly.  Then, she stood up and walked off to her bedroom without another word, leaving Ned in the dimly lit room with only his thoughts to keep him company.

+++

“But I’m a constant headache, a tooth out of line.”

-Joyce Manor, Constant Headache

Flash Thompson was flipping through channels as he sat on his family’s living room couch, trying to drown out the silence of the empty house.  Both of his parents were on business trips, so he was all alone.  With his homework done and him being unable to fall asleep, the boy found himself down stairs with a tub of ice cream he pulled out of the freezer.

Flash hit the button to switch channels again and found that he’d made it to HBO.  Seeing as it was a little past eleven thirty, Last Week Tonight was on the air and the host was finishing up his main story.  With nothing better to do, the high schooler put down the remote and watched.

“Now, I know we often finish with our main story, but we wanted to talk about an event we haven’t had a chance to cover yet, since we weren’t on the air last Sunday. I’m sure you’ve all heard about it, since you haven’t been living under rocks, but we wanted to talk about Peter Parker.” “You have to be fucking kidding me,” Flash groaned, rolling his eyes as a picture of his peer showed up next to the host.

“I know he’s been the talk of the week, but if you haven’t heard of Peter Parker, he is Tony Stark’s soulmate and the two of them were keeping their relationship private. However, somebody found out about their relationship and told a reporter about it. That reporter then followed them around their vacation in Italy, took pictures of them, and then posted them online, therefore leaking Peter’s identity and pushing him into the limelight.”

A couple of people in the audience booed.

“He’s actually handled it surprisingly well, though. He and Tony Stark did a press conference where they gave reporters a chance to ask questions and then, just on Friday, Peter went on The Tonight Show and talked about what his life is like and what he’s been up to.”

Flash looked at the TV deadpan as he remembered the interview.

“Very excitingly, I am being given the chance to talk to Peter Parker tonight, so everybody give him a warm welcome!”

The audience went crazy as John Oliver stood up and walked over to the area beside the space where his desk is.  There was a table with two chairs set up on opposite sides.  Peter Parker walked onstage and waved shyly as he made his way to his seat.  The two men shook hands before sitting down.  Flash booed at his TV from where he sat on his couch.

“Thank you so much for being on the show!”

“Thank you for having me!” Peter had a bright smile on his face. “I’ve been a fan of your show for a long time!”

“I’m glad to hear that, but that begs the question𑁋” John leaned in a bit, as if he were about to tell a secret. “𑁋has Tony Stark watched my show?”

The crowd laughed.

“He actually has! I made him watch it one night and he’s been watching it every week since!”

“Yes! We made it!” the host shouted, raising a fist up in victory as the crowd cheered and Peter laughed.

Flash rolled his eyes again and began to half tune-out the interview as he just stared blankly at the wall about his TV.  His mind was in a different place, thoughts running through his head at lightning speed.

‘Why does Parker get a rich and famous soulmate?’

‘He doesn’t deserve all of this!’

‘Why does everybody like him now?’

Flash tuned back into the interview at some point, catching the words that his classmate said.

“Yeah, I was bullied a lot, but it kinda stopped once I was outed as Tony’s soulmate. I think people are a little afraid of me now, but before that, it was really awful. It was extremely physical to the point where-”

Flash turned off the TV.

+++

“I wanna be someone to someone, someone to you.”

-BANNERS, Someone To You

Ned spent that school week attempting to build up the courage to talk to Peter.  He finally did that Friday, seeing Peter head to the library for lunch and promising to meet up with MJ and Sydney later.

“Hey, Jacob, I think I’m gonna go to the library for lunch,” Ned told his soulmate and bolted to after Peter, not giving the boy a chance to respond.

Ned slipped into the doors right after his ex-friend, watching as he disappeared behind some bookshelves and subtly following.  He kept a good distance as he pursued Peter and peeked through some books to make sure the boy was sitting down at the little study area in the back before making his way in.

The moment Ned stepped into the study area, Peter looked up at him, his face turning into a slight scowl.

“What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you,” Ned told him, practically begging.

“We’re talking right now,” Peter shot back sarcastically.

“Seriously.”

The brunet sighed and shut his laptop, which he had opened to work on his assignment.  Ned couldn’t help but to stop and notice that the laptop looked custom, looking nothing like the Stark Computers that were on the market.  It wasn’t lost on him that it was probably a piece of tech that Tony Stark had made for the boy.  He pushed away the thought that it was likely something the two soulmates had made together.

Ned took the sigh to mean that Peter was giving in and letting him talk, so he sat down in the chair across from him, twiddling his thumbs nervously in his lap.  It was silent for a few moments as they both waited for the other to say something.

“If you wanna say something, then go ahead and say it,” Peter told him, repeating what he’d said the week before in physics.

“I miss being friends with you,” Ned murmured, looking up and making shy eye contact with the boy, who did not seem fazed.  In fact, he only raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Are you fucking with me?” Peter asked him.  When Ned remained silent, Peter gave a small chuckle.  “You aren’t fucking with me. You really came to talk to me and say you miss being friends with me only after a year and a half and finding out who my soulmate is. You’re absolutely unbelievable.”

“Why can’t we be friends again? You’re friends with MJ!”

“Because MJ didn’t just try to be friends again. We slowly started hanging out and she didn’t give a shit who my soulmate was. She just hung around because she had nobody to sit with. We were like acquaintances who became friends.”

“I don’t care who your soulmate is! I just miss you!” Ned defended.

“Too little, too late.” Peter shoved his laptop into his bag, stood up, and left, not giving his ex-friend another chance to speak.

Ned just let him go.

+++

“I think my head is fit to burst. Which breakdown shall I deal with first?”

-dodie, I Won’t Be Done

Flash, much like Ned, had been watching Peter for the entire week, however, it was for a different reason.  That reason being that he was absolutely and utterly pissed at the boy.  Sure, he was already mad that Peter had leverage on him now, but having seen the boy on several talk shows and being happy with his friends throughout the week made him livid.  In the back of his mind, he knew that what he was about to do could cost him his future, but all he saw was red.

That’s why, on the way to last period, Flash and his little gang of rich kids cornered Peter.  The boy was walking to physics alone, as neither Sydney nor MJ were in the class with him, and they approached him from all sides, forming a semi-circle around him and forcing him back against the lockers.

“What the fuck do you guys want?” Peter spat, voice conveying his lack of patience.

“What we want is for you to tell your soulmate to back off and not ruin my future,” Flash told him with venom, the rest of his posse voicing their agreement.

“Why should I?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Peter crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.  The certainty that the group couldn’t do anything to him was written across his face.  Despite his better judgment and the threat of his life being ruined, Flash took a step forward, raised a fist, and punched the boy.

Hard.

Peter stumbled back and hit his head against the lockers, incapacitating him for a moment.  A couple of the bully’s “friends” took advantage of that and grabbed the boy’s arms, pinning him up against the cold metal.  Flash took a threatening step towards him and gave a smug grin, watching as Peter’s nose started bleeding.

“Not so confident now, huh, Parker?” Flash wound up his fist again and punched the pinned boy in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.  One of his goons took the chance to kick Peter in the leg, hard enough that there was sure to be a bruise by the end of the day.  A flurry of hits and kicks rained down upon the brunet, him wincing with every single one.  Peter was counting down the minutes until the tardy bell rang.

Mere seconds from the sound of the bell, a stern voice called out, “Thompson, Parker, principal’s office!  The rest of you, vice principal’s office!”

As the gang let go, Peter stumbled a bit, struggling to get back on his feet.  The pain throbbed across his body as the beaten up boy trailed behind the clique.  Someone came up beside him and he turned his gaze to them, only to see Ned staring straight ahead.

“Did you . . . Were you the one who alerted Mr. Warren?”

Ned moved his gaze to the boy slowly before giving a small nod.

“Thank you,” Peter told him softly, sincerity shining through his voice.

The group split up as they reached the faculty offices, Flash’s gang turning the corner to go sit in front of the vice principal’s office while Ned, Peter, and Flash sat in the chairs outside the principal’s office.  They all stayed silent, not daring to utter a word.  After a few minutes, Mr. Morita stepped out of his office and the three boys looked up at him.

“Mr. Parker and Mr. Thompson, I’ve alerted your emergency contacts.  Mr. Leeds, there was no need to contact anyone as you were not involved in the incident, but please stay here so I can hear your story of the incident.”  The man walked back into his office and the hallway went silent again.

After only a few more minutes, a man rushed into the faculty offices and immediately made a beeline to the three boys.  As he stopped in front of them, it dawned upon Peter and Ned that it was Flash’s father.

“What the hell happened?” the man said gruffly, looking over the teens.  When he caught sight of Peter, his eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out where he knew the boy from.  Before anybody could answer his question, Morita walked out of his office again.

“Mr. Thompson, thank you for showing up on such short notice. We’ll get started in a few minutes once Mr. Parker’s emergency contact show-”

“Am I late?” a voice asked, cutting off the principal.

All of the people already there turned to look at the entrance of the faculty offices, coming face-to-face with Tony Stark.  The new arrival made his way over coolly while the five already there stayed quiet.  Peter stood up as his soulmate joined the group.  Tony gave the boy a once over and his relaxed smile turned into a frown.  He took his soulmate’s face in his hands and took in all the bruises and the dried blood from his nose before letting go and turning to the starstruck principal.

“After a fight, aren’t students supposed to be sent to the nurse first before the principal’s office or have things changed since I was in school?” Tony questioned impassively, but it was obvious that the question was rhetorical.

“Uh, right! I’ll, uh, grab some ice for Mr. Parker’s nose! I’ll be right back!” Morita rushed out of the faculty offices and towards the nurse’s office.

While Ned, Flash, and Mr. Thompson stayed frozen, staring at the billionaire, Tony and Peter turned to each other.

“I didn’t know you were listed as an emergency contact for me,” Peter told him with a raised eyebrow, a question hidden behind the statement.

“Soulmates are allowed to be listed as emergency contacts as long as they’re over eighteen,” Tony answered the unspoken question and slipped one of his hands into Peter’s.

“I didn’t really pay attention when I had that class on soulmates in sophomore year,” the younger man admitted.

“Neither did I.”

Peter gave a small laugh, a little bit of light flooding into his eyes.

“You’re . . . you’re Tony Stark,” Mr. Thompson uttered, eyes wide as he stared at the billionaire superhero.

The two soulmates turned to acknowledge the other people in the room.  Ned looked a bit starstruck, but seemed the least shocked of the three, Mr. Thompson appeared to be shaken up, and Flash was pale, with his eyes wide and features conveying his horror.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Tony said with a sickly sweet voice, putting his hand forward.

The man took it, his hand shaking. “I, uh, I don’t believe we have. I’m Eric Thompson.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Everybody could tell that Tony was, in fact, not pleased to meet the man.

“I’m a big fan of your work,” the nervous man told him as he drew his hand back.

Tony only gave a short nod of acknowledgement, not caring to make small talk with the bumbling fool.  Luckily, he was saved from the conversation by Morita reappearing, out of breath and clutching a bag of ice in one hand.  He walked over and handed it to Peter, who gently put it up against his injured nose.

“Let’s all go into my office,” the principal said, opening the door and holding it for all of them.  As soon as they all sat down in chairs in front of the desk, Morita went around to his side and practically collapsed into his chair.  Peter and Flash sat on opposite ends of the five seats set up, each having their respective contact sitting beside them.  Ned was stuck in between the two groups, feeling anxious despite having done nothing.  They all sat in silence for a few moments while the principal fumbled around for something to say.

“Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you in today.”

“I’m assuming it has something to do with Peter being covered in bruises,” the billionaire cut in.

“Tony,” Peter warned, looking to his soulmate.  The man put his hands up in defeat.

“There was a fight in the hallway and I wanted to head everybody’s side of the story,” Morita continued as if the interaction hadn’t happened.  “Ned, as you were the one who told a teacher, can I hear your side of the story first?”

Ned gave a nod before starting. “I was walking to physics and I was rushing because I was going to be late, but when I turned onto the 300 hallway, I saw Flash and some of his friends beating up Peter while a couple of them held his arms to pin him against the lockers. I turned into the first classroom, which was Mr. Warren’s, and I alerted him of what was happening.”

“Thank you, Ned. Mr. Thompson, may I hear your side of the story?”

Flash, unsurprisingly, jumped into a false narrative. “I was walking to pre-calculus with my friends when Peter came up and tried to punch me. I tried to get him off, but he just kept trying to attack me, so I had to hit him back to make him stumble away and then my friends helped restrain him!”

“Are you sure about your story? It does not align with Mr. Leeds’ report and what Mr. Warren told me when he emailed me about the incident only a few minutes ago.”

“Are you calling my son a liar?!” Eric Thompson butted in, not giving his son a chance to respond. “I’ll have you know Flash here is a good kid who wouldn’t do anything like this! I cannot believe that he is being accused like this!”

“Mr. Thompson!” Morita spoke over the man. “No accusations have been made yet! I am simply telling your son that his story does not line up with the other ones. I am not calling him a liar.”

That seemed to calm the father down because he stayed quiet after that.

“Mr. Parker, could you please tell your side of the story?” the principal asked.  Peter took a deep breath and Tony grabbed his hand, squeezing it encouragingly.

“Well . . . I was walking to physics when Flash and his friends cornered me against the lockers in the 300 hall. I asked them what they wanted and Flash said that he was mad over the face that Tony was angry at him because he’s been bullying me for seven years. When I told them that it wasn’t my problem, Flash punched me in the nose and I stumbled back, hitting my head against the lockers. Two of his friends pinned me against the lockers and I started getting beat up. That’s when Mr. Warren broke it up.”

“He’s lying!” Flash shouted as soon as Peter finished telling his side of the story.  Tony glared at the bully, but Peter squeezed his hand and gave him a warning look.

“Seeing that Mr. Parker’s testimony lines up with Mr. Leeds and Mr. Warren’s testimonies, along with the security footage that the counselor sent me, I believe that you are lying about what happened, Mr. Thompson.”

Flash went pale again, looking over at where Tony and Peter were sitting.  The former had a smug grin on his face while the latter had a neutral expression, but happiness shone in his eyes.

“Mr. Parker, Mr. Leeds, and Mr. Stark, you are all free to go.”

The three men stood up and exited the office.  As soon as they were out, Tony turned to Peter, questioning if he was okay.  Ned watched his old friend spout off reassurances that he was fine and that his soulmate didn’t need to be worried.  Eventually, the man seemed satisfied and turned away from Peter.

The two soulmates looked at Ned for a moment while he stared right back.

“Thank you, Ned,” Peter murmured kindly, “for telling Mr. Warren, I mean.” Tony nodded along to the sentiment.

The two walked out and Ned waited a few moments before heading out the same way, not wanting to seem like he was following them.  As he walked to physics to catch the last few minutes of class, he wondered if he had made progress with Peter.

+++

“And I’ve been in this place before. Fine as we are, but we want more.”

-Lauren Aquilina, Fools

It seemed that Ned had made progress with Peter, because, the next Monday, MJ invited him and Jacob to sit with her at lunch.

“You’re biting your lip,” Jacob informed Ned as they stood near the doors of the cafeteria together.

“Oh.” He forced himself to stop.

“It’ll be okay,” the short boy’s soulmate reassured him, taking his hand. “I’m sure of it.”

Ned gave a curt nod and the two approached the table, sitting down across from where Peter, MJ, and Sydney were sitting.  The latter two gave the boys a smile while the brunet gave them a two-fingered salute, his face remaining neutral.

“Nice to see you two losers,” MJ greeted in her usual fashion.

“We were just talking about our weekends,” Sydney chimed in, trying to include them in the conversation.

“Cool. What did you guys do?” Jacob replied, saving Ned from where he was floundering for words.

“I mostly worked on a painting,” MJ told him simply.

“I visited my grandparents.”

“Nice! Ned and I spent the weekend hanging out.”

“What about you, Peter?” Ned asked, finally speaking.

Peter looked up from where he was picking at his nails, taking a moment to realize that everybody at the table was looking at him, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, uh, I spent most of the weekend with my soulmate.”

The table fell back into easy conversation, everybody satisfied with Peter’s answer.  It took a little bit, but Peter joined in by the end of lunch.

As the bell rang and all the teens got up from their table and began to head back to classes, Peter shot Ned a small smile before exiting the cafeteria.

In some strange sort of way, things were heading back to normal.

+++

“It’s a simple suggestion of a moment worthy to keep.”

-Wilderado, Millie

The Friday afternoon the day before graduation found Peter leading his little friend group through the lobby of Stark Tower, weaving his way around the crowds.  Nobody gave them a second glance, everybody knowing exactly who Peter was.  He even shot the desk lady a quick hello as they passed.  When they finally made it into the private elevator, all of his friends looked a little shaken up from the business of the ground floor, but Peter was unbothered.

“That was insane,” Ned announced, leaning back against the side of the elevator.

“Is it always that busy?” Sydney asked, looking a little out of breath.

“Only on weekdays,” Peter answered nonchalantly. “Not too many people are here on weekends.”

Soon enough, the elevator doors opened to reveal the penthouse living room and kitchen, which were connected to each other.  Peter, of course, walked out and dropped his bag by the couch before making his way over to the kitchen.  His friends walked out more slowly, taking in their surroundings before putting their stuff next to Peter’s.  Even MJ, who rarely showed emotions, looked a bit in awe.

The place had a modern design, very Tony Stark chic, but, despite that, it looked lived in.  There was a fuzzy blanket draped over the couch and what the group recognized to be one of Peter’s sweatshirts was hung over the back of a kitchen chair.  There were framed pictures on the wall and a bit of clutter on the kitchen island.  In a way, it was cozy.

The two pairs of soulmates watched as Peter opened up the fridge and pulled out a can of root beer before turning to them.

“You guys want anything? You can take whatever you want.”

“Are . . . are we allowed to?” Ned questioned, looking a bit anxious.

“I mean, I just gave you permission.” Peter had already moved to the pantry and grabbed a party size bag of chips before getting a big bowl out of the cabinet and pouring them in.

Sydney watched him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, but, like, this kitchen belongs to-”

“Me?” a voice cut in. The four teens in the living room whipped around and found Tony Stark standing at the entrance to one of the hallways that led off from the living room.  They stared in awe at him as he walked past them and into the kitchen.

“Hey, Tones,” Peter greeted as Tony approached him.  Once in range, the two shared a short kiss before separating.

“What are you all up to? You never mentioned you were bringing people over.”

Before Peter could even answer, Jacob cut in, worry laced into his voice. “You didn’t ask if we could come over?”

“Nope,” Peter responded plainly, popping the ‘p’ and laying his head on Tony’s shoulder as the man put an arm around his waist.  Jacob furrowed his eyebrows while the other three teens gave each other slightly bewildered looks.  However, they didn’t get any more answers.

“We’re decorating our graduation caps,” Peter told Tony, pulling away from his hold and grabbing his soda along with the bowl of chips.  The older man followed him as he walked back over to his friends and set the items down on the coffee table. “Also, don’t you have a meeting in, like, five minutes?”

“Shit,” Tony muttered, checking his watch. “I should probably get going, but we’re still on for getting takeout and watching movies tonight, right?”

“Of course!” The two soulmates shared another quick kiss before Tony made his way over to the elevator, the doors already opening for him.

“Say hi to Pepper for me!” Peter called.

“You got it!” Tony called back right before the doors closed.

Peter turned to his friends, who looked back at him in shock.

“Let’s start decorating!”

+++

“But God I want to feel again. Oh God I want to feel again.”

-Sleeping At Last, Touch

“Going through high school was one of the most challenging things I’ve ever faced. I felt alone for a lot of it. I faced a lot, from bullies to rumors to nearly failing classes. And, yet, here I am, standing in front of all of you today, giving this speech. Despite everything, all of us made it through. We made it to graduation and we’ll make it so much farther. And I am so glad to have made it here, to be graduating with the class of 20XX. We did it.” Peter finished his valedictorian speech with his voice strong, looking out over the crowd of teary eyed parents and proud relatives and caring friends from other high schools.  Everybody cheered, some seniors throwing their caps into the air.

He couldn’t believe that he had made it.

Peter made his way out into the lobby, weaving through the people, trying to find the people there for him.  Eventually, he spotted his aunt talking with Ned’s parents and made his way over.  Once he did, he also found MJ, Jacob, and Sydney’s parents, all talking with them.  His friends were standing beside them, all chatting excitedly.  Finally, there was Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, and, of course, Tony.

He made it.  He actually made it.

+++

“I did it all. I owned every second that this world could give. I saw so many places. The things that I did. Yeah, with every broken bone, I swear I lived.”

-OneRepublic, I Lived

Five Months Later - November

Peter awoke to a banging on his door.  He groaned, burying his head into his pillow.

“Come on, Peter! We’ve got class in forty-five minutes!” Ned’s voice floated through the wood.

After a moment more, the brunet got out of his warm bed and stumbled to the door, opening it up and seeing his friend, who was already dressed.  Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the room across from his had its door open, which meant that MJ and Sydney were both already up.

“Go get dressed,” Ned ordered. “Jacob made breakfast.”

Peter gave a nod and closed the door, drawing himself out of his sluggish state to get dressed and ready to go for the day.  When he got out of his room a few minutes later and walked into the kitchen, he saw his friends all sitting down for breakfast.  He joined them at his seat, happy to eat the pancakes that his friend’s soulmate had made.  There was light conversation as they all discussed classes and their plans for the day.  Peter and Sydney were talking about their engineering class when MJ asked the group if anything was going on for the day besides classes.

“Tony’s coming in today,” Peter told them and everybody looked at him, the table going silent. “You guys are really never gonna get used to this, huh?”

“Bro, your soulmate is Tony fucking Stark. How could we get used to that?” Jacob questioned him.

“Maybe because you guys live in his penthouse with me?” Peter suggested with a raised eyebrow. “Anyways, if you guys are free tonight, we could all go out to dinner together!”

Everybody voiced their agreement.  After a few more minutes, Peter and Ned got up from the table to head out to their first class of the day, which was earlier than everybody else’s.  They threw on their winter coats and gave everybody a goodbye before leaving, talking the whole way to the classroom and ignoring the looks that Peter got everywhere he went.  He had gotten used to people recognizing him.

That afternoon, when Peter and MJ walked back to the penthouse, having their last class on Fridays together, they didn’t talk much.  They simply stayed side by side and took comfort in each other’s company.

When they got to their place on the top floor of the building, Tony was sitting at the kitchen table, doing some work on his StarkPad.

“Tones!” Peter exclaimed, a large smile on his face.  Tony got up from his seat and the two soulmates gave each other a warm embrace, sharing a kiss.

MJ gave a small grin at the loving looks on the two men’s faces before walking to her and Sydney’s shared room to put her stuff down.  When she got there, she found her soulmate sitting on the bed with Ned and Jacob sitting on the little couch in the corner, all three of them talking.  The four only hung out for a few minutes before Peter popped in to tell them that they should get ready because Tony made reservations for all of them at a nice restaurant.

That night, the three pairs of soulmates sat around a table at a nice restaurant, telling stories and laughing, as if they’d known each other for forever.

It was as Peter laid in bed, held by his soulmate and looking at his alarm clock, that he realized how much everything had changed.  He was happy, warm, content.  It was everything he had ever wanted, and it was right there.

Soulmates were a strange thing, connecting two people together for eternity, yet not being able to tell if a person’s soulmate would die before they had the chance to meet or giving someone no soulmate at all.  There were theories about how it worked, from quantum entanglement to straight-up magic, but nobody was really sure in the end.  Most didn’t care about the science anyway. 

They cared about falling in love.

And Peter Parker and Tony Stark had fallen in love.

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[bqstqnbruin]

Surprise!

Someone needs to stop me from only finishing things after midnight because I have so much stuff to do for my class and for my honors kids and I put it all off for tomorrow which is now today and I hate me slightly but oops.

I love getting requests, so please keep sending them in!

I also have like five more ideas that I want to play around with, but I always love getting your stuff too!

Here is the original request!

__________________________________

Three hours down, Five more to go. 

Three hours down.

Only five more to go.

You’re not even halfway done. Three-eighths of the way finished before you have to come back tomorrow. That’s 62.5% left of this shoot before you can go home, do some homework for the college degree that was taking way too long to get because of your schedule, and then come back tomorrow for opening. Easy. No problem.

“Quiet on the set!” The director screeches. You weren’t in the scene, but this director made it clear that all actors be present for all scenes, but had you had to be quiet if you weren’t the one acting. It made no sense: there were so many personnel and a pretty large cast that having this many people on the sound stage was probably a fire hazard of some sort. 

The scene gets started, you not even caring to pay attention. It had nothing to do with the plot line you were part of, so why bother? You just wanted to go home. You sink down on the floor, behind the craft table at the back of the studio, letting your back ride down the wall is it took every ounce of you to not full on lay down. 

“We’re never working with this director again, are we?” One of your castmates says, plopping himself down on the floor next to you. The two of you were becoming a tag team; the last three movies you did, he was cast as your brother or your best friend. In real life, he probably was your best friend, besides your boyfriend. 

“I hope not. This is insane. We don’t have a scene for two more hours. I could nap or do my work in my trailer during that time.”

“Or talk to your boyfriend.” 

“You could practice talking to girls that aren’t me so you can get a girlfriend.” you joke.

“Yeah, or I could learn how to be fluent in Khoisan languages in half an hour. That’s more likely to happen at this rate.” You love to tease him about being this; he’s an actor, someone who’s actual job involves talking with people all the time when in reality he can barely strike up a conversation with the females that are throwing themselves at him. “You have a boyfriend that you never see, anyway. What would I do with a girlfriend I can never see?”

“I see Alex.” you protest, knowing that it’s not entirely true. You see him on a screen a lot. You FaceTime any day that you don’t have rehearsal and he doesn’t have a game. Your last film was shot in Chicago for a month, so you got to stay with him the entire time and it was amazing. With your filming schedule and your agent booking you movie after movie, and then his practice schedule and game schedule, it was nearly impossible for both of you to be in the same place at the same time. You didn’t even have a city that you called home because of how often you moved around, how were you supposed to see him often? But it was almost a year ago that you saw him in person for more than a day. Can you even really call him your boyfriend? “On the phone.”

“When was the last time he was in LA?” he asks, giving you a look that was mixed with sympathy and ‘I told you.’

“He’s in California all this week, actually.” you tell, a matter of factly, just to try to prove him wrong when you know he’s right anyway. “He plays at Staples tomorrow night, I just.. I don’t know what day he’s coming in.” You don’t even have your phone with you to ask him; another thing about this director is that he wants all contact with the outside world to remain outside. In the studio, the world around you is that of the movie and the movie alone. 

Hours pass as you sit around, waiting for the director to call you and your other castmates for your scene. 

“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want to date you.” you say, in character. The two of you were at a bar, surrounded by other people. 

“As many times as it takes for you to change your mind?” one of the actors responds, leaning closer to you in the fake booth the two of you were sitting in. 

“Look. If you’re trying to be cute, it is not working. Harassment is not cute. Get that through your head, and leave me and all other women alone.” You raise your voice with each word, like the stage direction in the script told you to. You get up and storm out stage left, again, like the script indicated.

“Perfect!” Yells the director. That might have been the first time all day he’s said something positive. You’re definitely not going to work with him again.

You hear clapping from somewhere on the sound stage as you try to go back to the outskirts of the room to sit back down and wallow in the boring universe that was outside the one you were creating not even a hundred feet away. 

“Hey, nice job.” you hear a familiar voice say as someone stands in front of you.

You look up to see that beautiful blonde-haired boy that you loved and missed so much. “Alex!” You jump up, grabbing him into a hug, planting your lips hard onto his like you wish you could have been doing for months. You’re trying not to scream so loud that the director gets mad at you and kicks you off the movie. “What are you doing here?” you ask when you finally pull away from the kiss that probably made people around you slightly uncomfortable, but you can’t believe he came to surprise you on set, and trying to contain your excitement was not something you wanted to do in that moment. 

“I haven’t been able to hold you like this in so long, and we came to LA early so I got your friend over there to get me in.” he nods over to your friend, whos been sitting on the floor just within earshot of you two, smirking.

“He wanted to see you, how could I say no when you’ve been moping around set about him this entire shoot?” he says, getting up and going closer to the stage.

“Oh, I’ve missed you.” You say, taking him in for another hug, never wanting to let go. 

“We’ve gotta figure out a way so that we can see each other more often. I’ve missed being able to hold you,” he tells you, looking you at your face. He takes your face in his hand, running the pads of his thumbs along your cheeks.

If you could hold this moment forever, you would. 

By the time you get out of the shoot, Alex has been waiting around for two hours in your trailer. 

“I’m so sorry. You came after lunch and that was the only time I was allowed back here.” There was really no point in you all having your own trailers if the only time you spent in them was during lunch. 

“It’s alright, I’m just glad I get to be with you before I have to turn in for the night.” 

“What time is that?” you plop down on the couch next to him, immediately cuddling up with him as he puts his arm around you and kisses the top of your head.

“Probably before ten.” 

“So that gives us five hours?”

“We can do plenty in five hours.” he looks down at you, smiling. 

“I just wish we had more than five hours.” you know you’re smiling, but there’s nothing that could hide the sadness that was coming through your eyes. You loved spending time with him, but you hated every time he had to leave. Sometimes you hated that you fell in love with a hockey player. 

“What if I told you I had a surprise for you?” he adjusts himself so you’re forced to sit up and face him. You give him a confused look, but before you can say anything, he continues, “I have something that you can use all the time that you’re in LA, and I can use during the off-season.” 

“What is it?”

He holds up a set of keys. “How about we live together out here?” 

If the smile on your face could get bigger it would. “I would love that!”

[mikaa-mina]

Ch 11- At Garden’s Edge : A Newt, some gremlins, and a Boston Fern walk into an IT business...

He’d been too distracted lately. Too distracted by soft cashmere sweaters he couldn’t let go of or return, too distracted by plays and books and AlwaysWinter with Anathema. Too distracted by far and now the Dowlings’ party was this weekend and Crowley still wasn’t sure how he was going to be in two places at once.

Bloody catering... He had a shop to run, he couldn’t just be going off willy-nilly to hand deliver and set up the flower arrangements for a bloody socialite party. But he’d agreed. Because he could use the money. And because Warlock had cared enough to engineer it to happen, the little hellion.

So here he was, taking an early lunch because he was too anxious to keep his hands steady, and as well as the plants had been behaving lately he didn’t want to accidentally bend something. So. Caffeine. Caffeine might steady his nerves- his hands- both.

He’s halfway to Knead to Know when the glass door to his immediate left flings open and nearly clips Crowley straight in the head. It’s the work of a moment to twist out of the way, cursing all the while at the oblivious arsehole, only to finally look up and see-

“Lost Boy!”

There’s those nervous eyes, the shuffle from foot to foot as he apologizes for nearly bowling Crowley over and then the hesitant, “uh, actually, it’s Newton.”

“Right, right,” he’s waving it away carelessly because he’s just taken notice of the box of shame Newton’s holding. Or rather, the extremely delicate and hard to keep alive Boston Fern that’s nestled in with the various office supplies shoved into the ‘just got job dumped’ box. “Whatever, listen. Is that yours?” He’s pointing at the flower, mind whirling, gears turning.

“Uh. Yes?”

“Psssh. It’s either yours or itsn’t. Which is it?”

“It’s mine. Turpin’s my duck.”

Crowley blinked. No the Boston Fern was definitely still a Boston Fern. “...your wut?”

“Oh, uh,” he shifted again, the contents of his box rattling but the plant, apparently named Turpin, staying steady despite it all, “see, in IT there’s this thing where you have a rubber duck on your desk and you talk to it when you’re stuck on a problem and it helps you figure it out.”

Dubiously, “Right.... Listen.”

“...yeah?”

“You sacked?”

Immediately Newt’s shoulders hunched up and his mouth opened to either deny or affirm it but Crowley’s mind is on a fast track one track train and his mouth bowls them both over before he’s quite thought anything through. “Did you care for the plant yourself?”

“‘Course.”

He seemed confident. Crowley narrowed his eyes at him.

“What kind of soil does it need?”

“Loamy. Though you really need to make sure it’s got good drainage, are you-“

“How much water?”

Bewildered Newt answered again, “Well the root ball needs to stay moist at all times but if it’s not in a humid environment you’ll need to mist it a fair bit. Why? Are you looking to get one? They’re a bit finicky but if you read up on them I’m sure you’d get the hang of it.”

Crowley stared at him. Thought about it. Decided to not think about it.

“Oh what the hell. Want a job Lost Boy?”

“Uh.”

Feeling like the boy was panicking for no reason Crowley went on to explain, gesticulating the whole while, “look, you’ve obviously been sacked and I need someone to mind the shop while I’m out with deliveries. Or you can do the deliveries.” He shrugged, “either way. Easy stuff. Plant shop.”

“I, uh, really prefer to do computer based jobs- I mean, I went into Computer Sciences so I could-“

“I’ve got a smart cash register and those white cube buggers that you put on your phone to let people pay through. That’s techy. C’mon, s’not like you’ve got anything better going on. No job, probably lots of bills to pay, why not work for me till your dream job rolls around?”

“Uh, well, I-“

“Fantastic!” Crowley grinned, shook Newt’s hand, shoved a business card into that very same hand, and rattled off, “the address is on here. See you tomorrow at 10am sharp. I have a delivery at 11 and we’ll cover the plant rules and schedules then.”

“I- okay??”

“Great! See you tomorrow Lost Boy.”

“I prefer Newt, actually, Mr. Crowley.”

“Right. Newt. Huh, I’m surprised you remembered my name. Rubbish at names, me.”

Newt gave a faint smile as if he figured that before explaining, “just handy with names, I suppose.”

“And plant care?”

“Oh, well. I’ve got a photographic memory. Really helps with that sort of thing.”

Crowley’s eyebrows raised, intrigued and already planning, “oh do you now?”

-

Thursday arrived bright at 10am with a befuddled Newton who still wasn’t, 100%, sure how exactly he had ended up agreeing to a job. Or how he’d been offered it at all.

There were rules, regulations (for Newt and the plants), and a whirlwind of information. By 11 he’d shorted out the cash register twice, brought down the electronic doorbell three times, and took out some other electrical device once (that Crowley swore at but wouldn’t tell Newt just what it was). So he was, rather emphatically, pushed out the door to do the 11am delivery while Crowley did damage control.

Newt didn’t really think there was a delivery for 11am, otherwise why would he be leaving at 11 and not before to be able to arrive at 11, but figured maybe Mr. Crowley was testing him or just really really wanted to get him out of the shop.

-

Sometimes Newt thinks his life seems like the set up of a bar joke. Or any joke really. 

It’s probably why when he walks into the shop he’s supposed to deliver the flower arrangement to, he’s not particularly surprised that it’s an occult shop. 

It’s a little startling that the woman behind the counter already has her eyes on his before he’s even walked in through the door, but maybe that was just luck. (Maybe there’s a security camera she saw him coming on like Mr. Crowley has.)

But no, he’s not that lucky. The next words out of her mouth startle him into nearly turning right back around and leaving. If it weren’t for how terrifyingly beautiful she was.

“Uh, I- sorry?” He tries, not because he didn’t hear her, but more of because he’s always been terribly bad with beautiful women, and she’s awfully striking. His tongue feels too large and clumsy, his hands feel a bit clammy, and honestly he’s just glad that he’s still got a good grip on the pot he’s holding. Also, he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten entirely what she’s said.

Her hair is dark and curly, and her cheeks hit the bottom of the lenses of her glasses when she smiles at him. He’s startled by her brisk “Nevermind that!” and clap of her hands, she stands from the counter, coming around it in a flurry of skirts, “now, would you prefer a palm reading or a tarot card reading?”

“Uh.”

Her smile widened. “Tarot card reading it is.”

That was probably for the best as his hands had already started sweating and honestly he was feeling a bit concerned for the pot he was still holding- the pot!

“Oh! These are for you- uh, wait, you’re Anathema right?”

“I am, and thank you for the flowers Newton.”

“They’re from Mr. Crowley, actually, and, wait- how did you know my name?”

She winked at him! “Witches never reveal their secrets.” And then she was turning away again, skirts swishing as she took the pot over to the front counter. (when did she take it from him??) She set it up in the far right corner where she’d be able to see it but still have it out of the way and then gestured him to follow her back through a curtain.

“I really don’t think I should- I mean, I’m still working and all and-”

“Just tell him that I kept you,” she answered breezily as she held the curtain open for him, “he’ll probably take pity on you actually,” she herded him towards a cushy stool and then seated herself at an identical one across a small round table from him.

“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with here.”

And that’s how he found himself getting a Tarot Card Reading done for him by the oddest american he’d yet met, and totally unsurprised at not knowing how he ended up here. And then, as was typical of a poorly done bar joke, Crowley barged in (as well as one could when the door was a curtain and not an actual wooden door).

“Bloody hell, I should have figured you’d steal the poor guy.”

“Stealing’s a strong word,” Anathema replied, chin settling in her palm, elbow planted squarely between Newt’s present and future cards. “After all, you’re the one who gave him to me.”

Newt felt he ought to say something about not being a thing but Crowley was already spluttering and objecting.

“Gave? Gave? Ana I sent him to make a delivery! Of which, you were supposed to send him back after he’d done his job.” Crowley blinked, swiveled to look at Newt and arched an eyebrow over dark sunglasses, “you did deliver the arrangement...”

Before Newt could even respond Anathema butted in again, “of course he delivered the flowers you menace! He’s a full grown adult, he can be trusted to do what he’s supposed to.”

“Oh really now? Because as I recall you were supposed to text me when he arrived.”

Anathema rolled her eyes, “oh please, I know you’re a worrywart about your babies-”

“-My what?!-”

“-but no one’s going to accidentally kill them-”

“’Won’t accidentally’- Do you not remember-”

Well. At least that cleared up how she knew he was coming and his name. For a moment there he was afraid he might be in danger of accidentally offending an actual witch. He had enough going on in his life without being cursed on top of it thank you.

“Oh please, that was one time-”

“Four! It was four times!!”

“Oh my god… I can’t believe you’re still upset about-”

Words dissolved into consonants and spluttering and Newt wasn’t sure if it would be better to stick around or sneak back out through the curtain.

Actually, “uh, sorry, excuse me but- if you’re here Mr. Crowley, who’s watching the shop?”

“No one. Because this” pointed glare “witch wouldn’t answer any of my texts.”

“Oh quit complaining you dramatic baby-”

“Oi! I had to make sure you hadn’t taken him to be one of your witchy ingredients now-”

Newt startled, “wait- uh-”

“He’s joking,” Anathema stated rather firmly and not all that convincingly before leveling a glare at Crowley, “Isn’t he?”

Crowley sent Newt a sideways glance and an entirely too concerning shrug before unconvincingly saying “suuuure. Probably.”

“Crowley!!”

[violetsystems]

personal

I’ve been able to sleep until six the last few days.  I’ve been on this miserable eight to four sleep schedule.  I ordered a silent vortex coffee grinder specifically to be less annoying in this regard.   Even if I could literally just grind the coffee the night before.  I also bought a rug cleaner for the first time in my life.  It’s amazing the things you don’t realize you need for a home let alone an office.  Last night I received an email from LinkedIn asking me to weigh in on a conversation about higher education.  The only public facing social networking site I really use actively I pay for.  They bought a service called Linda.com years ago.  It was probably the most important site to me for instructional videos.  These days it is included on the platform so I spend a fair amount of time keeping my job skills plausible.  I learned pretty hard the last six months that my professional network had all but evaporated.  A hard thing to face when you worked with your friends for over twenty years.  But people have to move on.  I sometimes make decisions that seem smarter in retrospect.  You could even mistake it for premonition but I just call it good judgement.  I made the decision to start the process of becoming a LLC.  It was pretty easy to do once you paid the four hundred dollars.  There’s services out there online that will do the legal part for you.  I chose VS consulting as the name which becomes real around mid December if the Secretary of State accepts it.  They asked me to cut the ribbon virtually.  I congratulated myself in silence but this is pretty much the first place I’ve shared the news with.  My mom didn’t quite understand what I had done and my dad is an accountant.  I haven’t told him yet either.  I got the idea seeing some of the people who still work at my old job starting their own side businesses.  Crazy to see people still employed having extra jobs in this economy.  But for the most part I don’t really compare my experience to anyone’s anymore.  So I just look forward.  There are a lot of ways I generate income.  Some of them aren’t very lucrative.  I released another ep Monday.  Three of my friends from across the world I never really talk to bought it immediately.  It makes sense because my music is how they know me.  So that’s how they keep up with me.  From there, Bandcamp revenue share Friday passed with little or no fanfare.  It still doesn’t change the fact I owe taxes on the income above a certain amount if I report it.  We all know how the rich hate paying those taxes.  And the whole world now knows that I work for a LLC on the premier professional social networking site.  It’s a win win for me because I can still look for a job but I appear employed.  It’s also a nice buffer in these times for your resume.  In retrospect, every article I read says the end of December is a perfect time to start your own business.  Mostly because January 1st allows you to start with a fresh balance sheet and good accounting.  So if anything my New Year’s resolution is to be cleaner and more concise about everything.  Even if the rest of society’s ethics and accountability gets muddier as COVID-19 and the election process drags on.  The only things I really have to worry about this next year are documenting my spending, opening up a business checking account, and deducting business expenses.  Sounds like a job to me.

There are tools you need for a job.  I bought a year long subscription to Creative Cloud.  I had it for free for years.  I worked in a visual communications department for ten years.  I saw the most amazing work every morning hung up outside my office.  It inspired me to learn about print making and screen printing.  I even owned Adobe stock at one point because I realized Microsoft Office wasn’t doing my resume much justice.  I shudder to think how many jokes were cracked by the Workday staff over my Chanel submission.  Truth is nobody called back for interviews at any of the places I applied.  And this doesn’t really stop me from keeping my eyes out for a position anywhere.  But if we are talking about generating income, I can do that all by myself.  I can also hire people and deduct more business expenses if I felt that was an option.  Which starts to get into the meat of why the job market and economy is so fucked up in America.  A lot of people didn’t fall in line on a balance sheet when COVID-19 came crashing down last February.  And when the fiscal year came time to start fresh, they thinned their liabilities.  Companies are now thinking in quarters rather than years at this point.  And small businesses like myself also have to think the same because I now owe the IRS money every three months.  The accounting side of it doesn’t really bore me.  I’ve done every IT role in the business pretty much over twenty years.  I guess that’s why LinkedIn calls on me to offer an opinion.  I’ve never had to be this hardcore about the finances.  Another great reason why I spend so much time in spreadsheets aside from writing on the internet.  It’s much easier to approach a professional consultant with twenty years of experience with an invoice than it is to tether them to your payroll with benefits.  I’m always having to think six months ahead myself.  This has an advantage to it insofar that I don’t often look back.  You pay your taxes and you move on.  There are many things I could do to generate income.  I could make a zine and sell it quarterly on bandcamp along with shirts.  I could post flyers around the neighborhood offering after christmas tech support.  I could scour the net for opportunities to audit galvanized IT departments.  I could do all this with more confidence if I could say I am employed.  I could also hire someone to help me.  But I could do none of this and deduct expenses without applying for a sole proprietorship.  And truth be told I already have to claim this for the New York Stock Exchange.  So if you had to put a label on what I do now it isn’t really that much different from any other business.  The state’s richest men started as LLCs.  They’re also the biggest pricks who pay the least taxes.  Trickle down economics is a funny concept.  Businesses offer jobs they deduct from their income therefore paying less to the pool.  This would be fine for small income generating businesses.  But Ken Griffin would say otherwise as he and other rich people benefit from this structure.  They say the American Dream is owning your own business.  So welcome to my personal nightmare.  I hope you don’t mind me taking the itemized deductions after how I’ve been treated.

I don’t actually know how it’s going to work out.  I just know I don’t want to appear unemployed while corporate America expects me to wink and make them more money.  There are investments that have worked out for me as volatile as they might be.  One Chinese company I invested in has made the CEO twelve times richer.  I own four hundred and twenty shares of that company in a brokerage.  My intent is to hold on to them for the long term possibly making someone richer at my own risk.  I could short the entire next year to my heart’s content.  My credit scores have gone through the roof.  Nobody has had any answers for me on what to do.  Nobody has coached me.  I read.  I think.  I come up with solutions to my problems.  And I put money in the right places.  That doesn’t mean anything is a sure thing.  Especially when my government finds it more advantageous to punish other countries while forgetting about it’s own people.  I am absolutely in the dark about everything.  Everything except running my own business in America.  I already have income I have to report over the next three years due the CARES act.  So that is income I will deduct.  This is how it works here in America.  You seize the means of production and you go to work.  If it seems backward for me, you wouldn’t know the half.  My life is so fucked up in terms of how hazy and confusing other people have made it.  People invaded my life on pretenses that I can’t even begin to explain.  And part of being a strong, responsible adult is engineering your way out of these problems.  And for the most part, I’ve engineered myself into a fort that overlooks the CTA train.  And a small portion of that fort can be written off as an office.  Which in some ways if you do the math makes rent and utilities cheaper in the long run.  I don’t make the rules.  This is how America works.  A LLC gets a tax id number.  It allows you better options for retirement savings with a SEP IRA.  You can apply for business accounts and waive taxes on business purchases.  Even the family dollar around the corner has a sign in the window reminding me I can apply for tax free status.  Maybe they’re mostly to blame for planting the idea in my head.  I’m the one who made the call to apply.  Nobody held my hand.  You could also get audited by the IRS.  And I’m sure the IRS would have to figure out how I got into this situation in the first place.  Maybe they’d offer me a job. There’s other fantasies in my life I could imagine happening more than that waking nightmare.  Like actually having money to retire.  I could be travelling around the world cleaning up the mess mark to market accounting has left on big business.  The scars on economies the rich have pock marked on the middle class.  Or I could just keep generating income and be my own boss here in my kitchen.  The one thing I do know is that is sexier to be confident enough to move ahead with your own plan slowly than to short a bunch of stocks disruptively and brag about it on the internet.  You could call it my three year plan.  Don’t ask me how bonds factor in that equation.  I’m not a spy.  What I am is a guy that is trying to be the solution and not the victim.  And that guy doesn’t ever want to be a burden on the people I love.  So that guy is going to keep doing what he does.  And I’m not going to lie that you inspire me to do so.  As sexy and confident as I’m born to be.  <3 Tim

[fericita-s]

The Feel of Your Hand in Mine

Iduna and Agnarr spending time together in the woods, on the coast, in the garden, on the castle grounds. Set right after “First Days,” part of the When All is Lost series. Thank you @the-spastic-fantastic for daily swooning with me over these two and helping me get this story in shape!

When Iduna learned Mr. Botner’s class expedition to the skerries wouldn’t happen until the spring, she was disappointed.  When Agnarr learned the expedition wouldn’t happen until spring, he made plans for the two of them to row out to the small islands immediately.  It was some trouble to secure a boat, more trouble to keep the palace guard on the shore instead of on the boat, and no trouble at all to convince Iduna to come on the boat with him. Which is how Agnarr found himself expertly rowing them out to the first of a series of skerries which rose up above the water in the fjord, all dotted along the shore in a line as though an earth giant had left behind crumbling footprints.  Iduna had her satchel cinched tight across her body, and she was leaning into the wind, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

“I love that smell! I love that wind!” She called to him over the rush of the breeze moving off the ocean.  Agnarr admired how the wind whipped her hair around her face, splayed like a halo, constantly in motion.  It made her seem like a mermaid, hair flowing in the currents.  He was filled with the oddest, most reassuring sense of remembering something, seeing her like that.

“How do you do that?” He wondered aloud. “Stay happy? Smile?” She turned around to look at him as he spoke, taking care not to rock the boat too much. It was still winter and tipping over would put a premature and cold end to their planned adventure for the day.

“If it’s not too intrusive, I mean,” he reassured her as he caught her expression.  “I’m sure you don’t always feel happy, but whenever I see you - you seem to be helping someone, or smiling and laughing with someone, or excited about a new idea or new plant. How do you do that? How do you go on after all the sadness?” He was careful to avoid naming the sadness, since inquiring about her home had caused her such distress the day they spoke on the castle grounds.  But he continued to marvel at her ability to stay cheerful and bring sunlight to others. It was a gift and one he wanted to understand.  Maybe his own heart would stop missing his father so much, maybe he would stop his constant sense of worry for those lost to the north.

Iduna seemed to consider the question, and in her continued silence, Agnarr found he had more to say. “I feel sad all the time, and worried all the time.” He confessed.  It made him feel a bit better, being able to get the words out.  These weren’t things to discuss with the Council.  “About the kingdom, about losing my father, how all I can remember from that day is him dying when the Northuldra warrior shoved him off the cliff. . . but there are so many other pieces to it that are important.”

Iduna answered slowly. “You don’t remember anything else? Maybe that’s best. Maybe it would be too awful to know more.”

Agnarr considered her words as he continued to row. “Perhaps.  But someone rescued me. I’d like to know who. And why it is they didn’t stick around to be rewarded for the safe return of Arendelle’s monarch.”

Iduna stared at him, trying to figure out if he suspected her. But he seemed genuinely perplexed, not probing for truth. She tried to answer his questions, even though she skipped answering the one that he perhaps most wanted to know. “When the worst happened, and I realized my family was gone and I wouldn’t be able to go back to my home, someone told me to keep going. To do the next right thing.  And I did.” She looked at him, and reached for his hand. She hesitated a moment, but grasped it. They were far from the shore. No one would see. “And the next right thing is sometimes making Iggy laugh or helping Eir or going to school. And even though I have to make myself do it, each time I do those things it feels easier the next time.”

They bumped against the skerry and Agnarr looked for a place to tie off the boat. He had to let go of her hand to secure the rope, and was sorry for the loss of the warmth of it, of her. “I’ve thought something similar.  That I should just act like the king and eventually I might feel like the king.”

They both stood and Agnarr offered Iduna his hand as they stepped onto the rocky island  She took it and rewarded him with one of her warm smiles. “I think you’re doing a wonderful job as king. Your people know you care – at least, I know the children at Eir’s do, and the others at the academy.”  He held his breath.  She was still holding his hand.  “You should eat with us more often. They should get to know their king, and you should get to know them.” Agnarr nodded, and thought about how nice it would be to have time every day with Iduna, a bright spot in his monotonous schedule.  

They stopped talking in favor of exploring. He watched as she looked carefully at the moss growing on the rocks, lifting it here, scraping it there to reveal what was underneath. They explored the entire chain of skerries, finding several nesting birds, a variety of moss and fungus species, and even a bewildered duck that Iduna insisted they bring back to shore.

As they said their goodbyes at the dock, she ran ahead and then stopped to let the duck down on the grass. The duck made noises of relief and waddled off. Agnarr waved goodbye to Iduna, now a few steps ahead, but instead of waving, she said his name. He looked at her, expecting to see her point to a new plant or an interesting species of toad. But instead, she said “You smiled today!”

He closed the distance between them and gave her a little bow. “I did. I did!  Thanks to you.” She smiled, and was gone, working her way through the crowd at the dock and back to Eir’s.

It was a good day. He had smiled. In fact, Agnarr found that he couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

***

Eating daily meals with the academy students became a habit, and Agnarr eventually ordered the castle kitchens to begin providing food after seeing the meager meals that the other children brought.  He knew for a fact that on more than one occasion Iduna skipped her mid-day meal to ensure one of the other children had enough to eat.  The councilors and ministers raised a fuss about using the national treasury for such a purpose, but the king noted the expense was taken from the royal family, and not the national coffers. The wealthiest citizens of Arendelle soon realized that though they could afford private tutors for their children, the palace academy was the best place for their children to have the ear of the king, to make a friendship that could benefit their business or interest. Soon even the wealthy children were also enrolled at the academy. Henrik Sundberg, whose mother owned a rather impressive lutefisk enterprise, was always up for a walk in the woods or the castle grounds, and would sometimes accompany Iduna and Agnarr on an adventure.  Elias, son of Captain Calder, was often there as well, quick with a joke but also quick with any new material the teachers assigned.

Agnarr was pleased with the success of the school, and pleased that Iduna was gaining friends beyond the walls of Eir’s. The next trip they took by boat, Elias helped Agnarr manage one of the larger royal sailboats. The three of them went beyond the skerries to look for loggerheads, and Elias doubted their mission would be successful. “I don’t think we have loggerheads here.  Maybe leatherbacks though. My father saw a bunch of loggerheads in the Caribbean.”  He paused a moment.  “What is a bunch of turtles called anyway? A flock? A trinket? A trove?”

“It’s a bale!” Iduna shouted above the wind from her perch on the bow. She leaned into it, and Agnarr noticed how much she enjoyed the strong feel of the wind whenever they were on the water.

They didn’t find turtles of any kind, but Iduna located what she thought could be cloudberry and bilberry bushes on a larger skerry near the shore. “We’ll have to come back and see it in the summer, maybe they will be blooming!”

Agnarr looked at the shrub, clinging stubbornly to a rocky island that could not have been its natural habitat, beautiful in its dedication to life, and thought he could understand why Iduna was interested in it.

***

Henrik picked up a branch from the forest floor and waved it about like a sword. Agnarr laughed. “Put that down before you hurt someone!”  Iduna had invited the two of them on one of her walks in the woods to stock up on medicinal herbs, claiming that she could use the extra hands to carry more supplies back to the orphanage.  Needless to say, he and Henrik were toting several sacks and satchels stuffed with the forest’s bounty.

Iduna took the stick from Henrik’s hands, and exclaimed over the moss hanging off of it. “Sphagnum fuscum! I’ve been searching for this! It’s the type that will make a good pack in a wound!”

“You hear that, Agnarr? I can get hurt! We already have the perfect moss for Iduna to get me back to rights!” He waved his branch towards Agnarr, flourishing it in the air in an invitation to battle.

“Sure, fine, but if that moss turns you into a troll, I’m not sure there’s much she can do for you.”

“Old wives’ tales!” shouted Henrik. “Nothing but tales! No moss can turn me into a troll!”

Iduna titled her head and studied Henrik, head to toe, stocky and barrel chested. “Are you sure you’re not  already a troll?”

Henrik yelled, ran at her with the stick, she shrieked in delight, and Agnarr chased them both, laughing.

***

“A plot of land? For me?” Iduna looked at him, confused but hopeful, unsure what Agnarr was offering.

“Well, yes, it’s nearly May and it’s time to plant the castle gardens.  I thought Mr. Botner and your class, well, you could plant some of the bushes and plants you’ve been studying and collecting, and see if you could get them to grow here on the castle grounds. Like a final exam but more fun.” He gestured to the overturned soil, a large rectangle on the castle grounds, now marked off and ready for planting.  “The working gardens have been neglected for too long.  It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Yes! I would love that! And then I could come here this summer even with school out to check on you. I mean on the garden!” Agnarr smiled, and helped Iduna plan out where each bush and shrub and plant would go, writing down her plans for a medicinal row, a row for edibles, and a row for beauty. He longed to tell her that she would be the most beautiful creature in the garden, but he couldn’t figure out how. And besides, she was his friend. He didn’t want to make their time together awkward by declarations of her beauty. He was content to be her friend and spend time together, growing a garden, exploring on the skerries, walking in the woods. Sharing secrets and jokes and laughing at Henrik’s impressions of his mother and Elias’s tales of his father’s bravery. He was content, and it was a better feeling than any he could remember having had for a very long time.

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (1/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.  

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: Hello, friends! Yes, I’m back with another story! No, I wasn’t expecting it, haha. This is based off of my one-shot Striking Out in that they have the same jobs, it’s the same city, and the premise is slightly the same. But there are quite a few differences though!

This is obviously a fictional story, so some things are going to be different. For one, players for the Yankees are allowed beards here and there are definitely names on the back of jerseys. It’s fun making your own rules sometimes 😉 And since I know I have some readers who are not Yankees fans, I promise you I only picked that team because I had to base the story somewhere where ESPN has an office! 

I hope you guys like this one! ❤️

Found on AO3: | Here |

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

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The early March wind whistles through the buildings in Chelsea as Emma opens the door to her favorite coffee shop. It’s aptly named the Grumpy Café for that’s apparently how everyone is before they have their morning coffee, which she totally and completely gets, especially on days where she’s working. As soon as she steps inside, she can feel the heat running through the building, the bustle of people trying to get their caffeine fix even on a Sunday morning, and she has to dodge a group of teenagers who likely aren’t even old enough to drive but are apparently old enough to spend over eight dollars on whatever drink it is they’re all taking pictures of with their phones.

She’s done it before. She’s not judging. Okay, maybe she’s judging a little bit.

Whatever. She just wants her coffee with a splash of hazelnut creamer and possibly a muffin that will totally cancel out all of the work that she just did at the gym. What’s the point of working out if she can’t occasionally reward herself with sweets?

(The point is being healthy and living longer and being able to fit into her favorite pair of skinny jeans, but she doesn’t always remember that when she feels like she’s dying and would like to murder everyone within a five-foot radius of her treadmill. And running is a much smaller monster than Pilates.)

Finally, she works past the teenagers and someone who definitely hasn’t washed their beanie since they bought it, and gets to the counter to put her order in, standing off to the side until Ava, her favorite barista, gives her the to-go cup and small brown paper bag filled with two blueberry muffins, one for both she and Ruby since she’s not interested in having to fight over her muffin when she gets home. After she wishes Ava a good day, she leaves the building, the wind already whipping at her skin, and tries to walk as quickly as possible to get back to her apartment so that she doesn’t die of frostbite or something. It’s not cold enough for that, but it kind of feels like it when all she has on are a pair of black leggings and a white tank top that might as well not exist for how little it protects her from the cold.

At least it doesn’t make her sweat.

She should have brought a jacket with her.

“Hey,” a man yells out at her, and she has to bite her tongue to keep from cursing at him when she has no idea what he wants. Instinctively, she reaches for her keys, placing the sharp edge in between her fingertips as she keeps walking, “you’re that girl.”

And immediately she knows that she is, indeed, that girl, and that this man, while slightly obnoxious in his Red Sox cap and t-shirt that he obviously bought from a tourist shop while in Manhattan yesterday, isn’t going to cause her any danger. Just annoyance.

“That I am,” she smiles, knowing less is more when she’s been recognized lately, only the slightest bit of resentment simmering below the surface of her skin.

“Can I get a picture?”

“Yeah, sure.” Emma sighs before keeping that plastered smile on her face as he comes up to her and wraps an arm around her shoulder before holding his phone in front of their faces. It’s quick, easy, and it’s not the first time that it’s happened to her. It used to be solely because of her job, and while this technically stems from that, it’s entirely different.

She should have bought a box of donuts or something instead of this muffin so that she could angrily munch away after she gets back home.

When she walks up to her apartment building, she presses in the code to get through the gate, before pulling the old creaky thing open, and walking up the four flights of stairs to get to her front door, twisting the key in the knob before quietly opening the door as she figures that Ruby isn’t awake yet. It’s before noon on a Sunday where they’re not working, so Ruby being awake would pretty much be a miracle or a sign of the world ending depending on how you look at it.

(A sign of the world ending most definitely.)

Toeing off her sneakers, the right one getting stuck, she flicks on the light switch to illuminate the main room of their apartment. It’s a small place, really more suitable for two people than the three that live here, but she likes the location and rent price too much to change anything about her living situation. The kitchen is more of an alcove than anything else, just five white cabinets shoved into the corner with white and gray quartz countertops, and next to the fridge is an exposed brick wall that she’s not sure is real or simply there for aesthetics. But she kind of likes it and the way that it brightens up the room as their television sits on a small black desk with plants framing both sides of it, a multi-colored rug sitting on the floor underneath their white couch that’s full of more throw pillows than anyone has any right owning.

The throw pillow thing is definitely her fault, but when she’s shopping and happens to see a good deal on a cute patterned one, she can’t help but buy it, figuring there’s some place for it. Her bedroom is full of them, sitting on top of her white comforter and on the black and white striped chair that’s crammed in the corner with piles of clothes stacked on top of it. She’s sure that designers would hate their place, but it’s their place. They like it. That’s all that matters.

She also has this problem with blankets, but that goes hand and hand with pillows, right?

The plants too. She and Ruby obviously wish they had a backyard or something.

“Morning,” Graham mumbles as he steps out into the hallway into the living room. He’s rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, still dressed in a pair of plaid pajamas pants and an NYPD sweatshirt, his hair curling into wild patterns instead of its usual tamed style. “Have a nice run?”

“My legs feel like they’re not actually limbs anymore, but it was good.”

“You happen to bring me any coffee?”

Emma huffs at that before sitting down at the kitchen table with her cup and her muffin, figuring that she’ll clean up the crumbs later instead of dealing with a plate. “No. I got a muffin, but it’s for Ruby.”

“She’s going to be asleep until at least two. I can eat it, and she’ll never know.”

“You have been dating her for two years. You know she can sniff these things out.”

“Eh.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. I’ve gotten good at hiding things.”

“That, my friend,” she starts, opening up her laptop from where she left it here last night, and curling her foot underneath her thigh, “is an awful thing to say to your girlfriend’s best friend.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Eat the muffin at your own risk.”

Graham chuckles before stepping further into the kitchen and flipping the switch for the coffee maker, the machine sparking to life as that all familiar gargle starts up, the smell already beginning to permeate through the apartment and overpower the coffee she already has. He hums, something that she’s noticed he always does in the mornings since moving in with them in January, and she blocks it out as much as she can. For so long, it was just she and Ruby here, but then Ruby and Graham got serious and he moved in. It’s only weird in the fact that she has to wear a shirt at all times when in a public space and she can hear some pretty enthusiastic sex noises happening through the bedroom walls. But rent is now split three ways, which is amazing, and Graham has a penchant for home cooked meals, which is something she thinks she’s really going to like when she’s traveling for work.

Graham’s probably going to like it more since both she and Ruby will be gone. Though she thinks he’ll miss Ruby a hell of a lot more than he misses her. She’d at least hope so. It’d be concerning if he didn’t.

Her laptop dings several times, and she already knows that she’s going to have at least ten emails from David detailing her schedule for when she flies down to Florida on Wednesday to cover Spring Training and film her segment on Killian Jones.

Killian Jones.

New York Yankees starting pitcher who has made her life a living hell since October of last year when the Yankees won the World Series. That should have been one of the greatest moments of her reporting career, especially since the team she’s assigned to cover for ESPN won the fucking World Series, but then it all turned her into a viral video online.

There are memes about her, okay?

(She’s only twenty-seven, but some of the things she’s thinking today are making her feel much older.)

And maybe living hell isn’t the right word. At least, not anymore. It was crazy at first, basically a madhouse around her, and she had to log out of all of her social media for two weeks even as she gained hundreds of thousands of followers across every platform where she’s active. She’s now got one of those blue checkmarks next to her name, which she honestly should have had before even if she doesn’t think she’s a celebrity or whatever, and random people stop her on the street for selfies. Selfishly, she kind of wishes that people had recognized her before the incident, but she didn’t get into her job for the fame. Really, that was the thing that held her back when she was offered the promotion, not that her job is really a job that brings much recognition outside of certain circles.

But here she is now.

“Killian,” she starts, holding the microphone to her mouth as she speaks and Killian wipes the sweat from his brow, pushing back his long hair before placing the World Series Champion cap back on top of his head, a bright white smile between his lips. Her heart is hammering in her chest, excitement over the Yankees winning finally starting to sink in. She can’t believe she got to work the Series. Holy shit. “You pitched an incredible game, and helped to lead the Yankees to their win. You’ve had an incredible season, an even more incredible post-season. How is it all feeling right now?”

His grin somehow gets impossibly bigger, the lines around his eyes crinkling, and she recognizes the look in his eyes like she always does. She’s been interviewing him for three years now, even if he wasn’t around much last season after his accident, and following his career around long before she’d actually met him through work, so she recognizes a lot of his mannerisms. It’s odd for her to know every career statistic that he has, to know about all of the publicity around his private life, and yet to have only talked to him while he stands on a field sweating under the glow of stadium lights or in the dimness of the locker room.

But that’s her job. She’s a reporter for ESPN, which is pretty damn awesome, and unlike a lot of people she works with, she actually likes to know what she’s talking about. She’s not a former athlete, not some kind of all-star with household recognition, and she’s a woman. Those three facts make her life impossibly harder, and if there’s anything she’s learned in her eight years working for the network, it’s that for every step that one of her male colleagues takes, she has to take ten. It’s idiotic, sexist, and all around wrong, but if she’s on TV spouting out facts that are incorrect, there’s twenty thousand men at home tweeting her and the network telling them to get the “dumb bitch” off their TVs.

Charming, right?

But it’s her reality. Most people only care about how she looks, about how her ass looks in a skirt, but that’s not what she cares about.

(Even if she has a good ass and works damn hard for it.)

She cares about the game.

And anyone who cares about baseball, cares about Killian Jones.

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear, which is a tick of sorts that she’s noticed, before he leans into the microphone. “Right now, it’s pretty unbelievable. It hasn’t sunk in yet, not really, but I’m happy to be here wearing this hat, having the trophy, the accomplishment. It’s been a long road for me personally, for the team, and I’m in a bit of euphoria over it all.”

“How in the world are you not burning alive?” Ruby says in her earpiece, and she has to keep herself from rolling her eyes with the forced smile on her face. Ruby is a great producer, but she definitely loves giving her live commentary to mess Emma up. “He’s so hot, and I can’t even see his ass.”

Her producer being her best friend is both the best and worst thing to ever happen to her.

“I bet,” she says to Killian, looking up in the blue of his eyes as chants start to ring out across the stadium. Ruby won’t stop talking in her ear, and that’s definitely something the two of them are going to talk about later. “You had a bit of a rocky beginning to the season with your injury from last year still lingering, so how’s that arm feeling?”

“Good as new.”

“Perfect, it looked like.”

Even under his hat she can see the rise of his brow. “You been looking at my arms then, love?”

He is such a flirt. It’s ridiculous. At least he’s not one of the creepy ones. She gets it a lot as a part of her job and the general state of men, but she’s thankful for the fact that Jones never crosses the line. And she’s watched his interviews. He seems to simply be a flirt naturally, no trying necessary.

“Me and a couple million other people.”

He barks out a laugh, his head thrown back a bit, and she can see the sharp underside of his stubbled jaw. Thank goodness the Yankees finally allow their players to have facial hair. Really, it’s for the good of all people. “Well, my sister-in-law tells me most people are looking at my ass, so that’s kind of a relief.”

“Oh my God,” Ruby groans, “there are so many things you could say. But don’t. Ask him one more question.”

“So, Killian Jones, World Series Champion, now that you’ve done something every baseball player dreams of, is there anything else that you want to do?”

His mouth snaps closed, his teeth disappearing in exchange of a closed lip smile, and he tilts his head to the side while his eyes flicker up and down her face, very obviously scrutinizing her before his lips part once more.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting his hat, “I think I’d like to go on a date with you. What do you say, Swan? You want to go out on a date with me?”

“Emma Swan,” Ruby grits, her voice yelling in Emma’s ear, “if you do not say yes, I will lock you out of the apartment. Think of the ratings.”

Later, she’s definitely going to talk to Ruby about sexual harassment. Not that this is what that is. She could say no. Yeah, he asked her on live television. That’s kind of dick-ish. But he’s not forcing her into it. Ruby might be, but that’s an issue for another time. Right now her issue is that she kind of feels like both vomiting on Killian’s shoes and punching him in the stomach for putting her on the spot like this.

Three years of interviewing him, and this is what he’s going to do.

No part of it surprises her. The next words out of her mouth do since she already knows the repercussions from them are going to be brutal.

“No.”

She’d been asked out on live television by a player who she covers several times a month since he only plays every few games, and she said no. Of course she said no.

They don’t even know each other personally, and realistically, she understands that the whole point of dating is to get to know someone, but she’s not about to say yes on-air simply because she’ll look like a bitch if she says no. And really, she doesn’t think she looked like a bitch. She doesn’t. But apparently, she’s not allowed to have her own thoughts or opinions, have agency over her own life, because even though she was gaining all of that fame online, she was also garnering a lot of hate.

Like, an insane amount of hate.

People online are insane.

She always knew that when she took the step up from being a writer and fact checker who merely listed statistics in articles to being an on-air talent, that it would be a difficult transition. For one, she had to get used to working with a camera, with thinking on the spot, and she also had to get used to how much hate she was going to get for being a woman working in baseball. The world is definitely getting better overall, but that doesn’t mean that tiny, petulant men won’t take issue with her covering games over a former pro who’s only in it for the money.

The money is great, much better than she ever could have imagined, but that’s not why she’s in it. Not at all.

Growing up, she didn’t have a lot. Really, she had nothing. Her parents gave her up for adoption after she was born, but no one adopted her. Ever. She grew up in foster homes and group homes, never really having anyone or anything she cared about until she was fifteen and moved into Ruth Nolan’s home in Portland, Maine. Ruth was a kind older woman who packed Emma’s lunch for school and bought her new clothes and made her feel like she mattered for the first time in a long time. Emma knew that Ruth had a son, David, who lived in New York City and who Ruth was unnaturally proud of, but she didn’t meet him until six months after she’d been living in the house and he came home for Christmas with his fiancée, Mary Margaret.

She’d hated him.

Really and truly hated him. She had a good thing going, and him coming home made her realize just how much she didn’t have anything that belonged to her.

She had nothing.

And it didn’t matter that he was twenty-seven to her fifteen, that he was an adult while she was still a child. The jealousy didn’t stop. It kept festering and festering until she was worried that it would never stop. As an adult, someone who is now twenty-seven herself, she realizes how ridiculous this was, but at the time all she could think about was how terrified she was that having her actual son home would make Ruth realize how much Emma didn’t belong.

All of her worry was for nothing because David Nolan is the nicest man on the planet, and he took her under his wings from the moment that he met her. She resisted, not used to knowing what kindness and affection were, but David made her feel comfortable to the point where her shoulders didn’t tense up, where her head didn’t pound, and even though he was a little too much for her until she got used to more genuine care and kindness, David became the older brother she never could have dreamed of.

He was the one who took her on her first vacation, a weekend trip to visit he and Mary Margaret in New York. The two of them definitely coddled her a little bit, jam packing the days with trips to anything and everything she wanted to go to, but it was fun. And then David took her to a Yankees game with seats behind third base and access to the facilities and food to die for with his special access, and her entire life changed.

Obviously, she’d watched a baseball game before. She knew most of the ins and outs, did for most sports. In all of the homes that she’d been in, sports were pretty much a constant. It was the thing the dads liked, most of the kids too, and even though she hadn’t always enjoyed them (she has some pretty strong feelings about basketball), sports were a constant in her life. Her foster parents would never sign her up to play, never wanting to spend the money on equipment, but watching on TV and understanding what her classmates were talking about made her feel like she belonged.

Then she went to an actual game, felt the atmosphere of thousands of people cheering, heard the ding of the ball against the bat, listened to music played during breaks, ate a hot dog like all of the clichés, and a light switched on in her. If David could work at ESPN, could spend his days studying statistics and helping to put together clips and videos of highlights, why couldn’t she?

Why couldn’t she dream of more than staying in Portland and working in an office as a receptionist or something else that would inevitably make her lose the light inside of her that has already been diminished?

Ruth and David offered to help her take SAT prep courses to boost her score, and they helped her apply to colleges across the country. When she got accepted to NYU, David and Mary Margaret immediately told her that she could live with them, and when David got her an interview at the ESPN offices as an intern the fall of her freshman year, she finally, finally felt like her life was headed somewhere good.

Then she met Neal and…that’s not something she wants to think about.

He’s not someone who needs to take up any space in her mind when she’s got Jones to deal with.

More specifically, an interview with him.

Emma,

Here’s your flight information as well as your rental car number. Everything is under your name, so it should be easy to get once you’re in Tampa. We’re sending Madden with you, but we’re sending Ruby to other ST games to produce with some of our more inexperienced reporters.

Jones can do his segment on 3/09/19 before the game against the Orioles. That’s also who they’re playing on Opening Day, so try to work something in with that. He shouldn’t be pitching that day, so he’ll mostly be free.

Come over for dinner before you leave?

DN

She fires of a quick response before opening up her document filled with the list of questions that she’s been working on for the interview. Jones is a pretty private guy despite how much information on him is out there, so she knows that this exclusive is a pretty big deal. She also knows that despite being the exclusive on field reporter for the Yankees, she got this gig because of what happened after the World Series. It stings, if she’s honest with herself, but she’s learned that sometimes she has to accept things she doesn’t necessarily love for the good of her career. That’s precisely why she, Ruby, and Graham have spent the last six nights sitting in their apartment listing off questions that she thinks resemble more of a speed dating questionnaire than a profile on a professional athlete.

At least there’s some questions about baseball. She doesn’t think Jones would be too fond of her if she dug a little too much into the boating accident that broke his arm and ended his season two years ago or the rather prolific dating history that he has. Then again, maybe him hating her would keep him from asking her out again.

Pros and cons and all.

“Ooh, is that muffin for me?”

Ruby stumbles out of the hallway, her shorts riding up her ass and her socks at different heights around her ankles. Her hair is half tied up in a bun, but it’s mostly falling down her back in dark curls, red streaks spread throughout. She’s basically a zombie waking up this early, and when Emma looks over to Graham standing with his back against the countertops peeling open the wrapper on the muffin, Emma can do nothing but smirk.

At least she’s not saying I told you so.

She’s really tempted though.

“Sure, babe,” Graham smiles, opening up his arm for Ruby to fall into his side, her head resting on his shoulder as she picks at the top of the muffin, spilling the crumbs on the floor all the while Graham kisses her temple. “What are you doing up?”

“I could smell coffee,” she mumbles, her mouth full. “And my phone kept going off because David wouldn’t stop emailing me about all of my work stuff this week. Does he ever sleep, Ems? I mean, he’s got a wife and a ten-year-old. He’s got a life.”

“David can make Mary Margaret swoon and help Leo with his homework all the while emailing us to get our shit together. It’s a talent.”

“It’s annoying.”

Graham chuckles before rubbing his hand up and down Ruby’s shoulder, the affection so easy between the two of them, and Emma feels her stomach twist. She’s in that weird phase where she couldn’t be happier for her friend, couldn’t be happier that Ruby has this person, her person, but where she also feels a lingering loss over having lost someone who she thought was hers.

But again, she is not thinking about that this morning. It’s easier not to.

“Sweetheart, I can nearly guarantee that your boss does not get onto you like my boss does.”

Ruby’s brow raises before she takes a giant bite out of the muffin. “Are you really going to stand here and try to tell me that I can’t be irritated with my boss because you have it harder?”

“That is not what I said at all.”

“It kind of is,” Emma adds in as she brings her knees up to her chest and types in a question about Killian’s nieces on her document.

“But you understood what I meant? I just meant that – ”

“It’s too early for you to keep putting your foot in your mouth,” Ruby laughs, stepping out of Graham’s embrace to get a mug out of the cabinet and pour herself a cup of coffee. “And it’s definitely too early for little miss over there to have been on a run and be back here working. It’s our day off. Let’s do something fun.”

“Like what?”

“Get drunk?”

“Oh my God, no. It’s not even nine thirty.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“Okay, Jimmy Buffet.”

“Well now I want a cheeseburger and a margarita.”

“We could always go to the restaurant in New Jersey.”

“There’s a place ten minutes away from here,” Graham interjects, “that sells fantastic cheeseburgers all day long. We go there for lunch a lot.”

“But do they have tacky decorations and overpriced alcohol?”

“They have good food and a TV that works seventy percent of the time.”

“That sounds perfect,” she sighs, closing her laptop even though she knows they probably won’t leave for a few more hours, “but once the season starts, I’m going to have to swear off burgers and any other concession food.”

Ruby guffaws, actually guffaws, her head thrown back and her coffee sloshing around in the mug. “The day you stop eating junk food on game day is probably the day that you go out on that date with Jones.”

Her eyes immediately cut toward Ruby, but the woman can’t be fazed and doesn’t care that she’s being stared at by someone with daggers in her eyes. Graham lets out a low whistle, one that doesn’t match up with the song he was humming earlier, and Ruby simply shrugs her shoulders and takes another sip of her coffee.

“I hate you for still thinking that’s funny,” Emma finally says as her legs stretch out for her to stand up and toss her empty mug into the trash bin, the cup circling the bag before landing in. “And for telling me to say yes for the ratings.”

“To be fair, I always knew that you’d say no, which is honestly probably better for the ratings than you saying yes. I’m so pissed that I didn’t get assigned to you to go to Tampa. I’d pay big money to get to see the two of you get all close and personal, but no, Jeff gets to go with you.”

She rolls her eyes and steps forward to condescendingly pat Ruby on the arm, forcing a smile on her face. “I’m not going to tell you anything that happens, which means you’ll never know because Jeff will never tell. We could have sex right there at Steinbrenner, and you’d never know.”

“I hate you.”

“You wouldn’t have sex with him anyways,” Graham says, and she and Ruby both slap his arm before his lips part in shock. “What? I’m just saying the truth. Emma is a consummate professional, and she’s pissed at Jones for asking her out like that. She’s not going to do anything to mess up her reputation. She’s worked too hard to be taken seriously.”

Graham Humbert: loveable idiot but also one very smart man.

Because he’s exactly right in what he’s said.

“Let’s go get some cheeseburgers,” Emma sighs, wanting to change the subject.

“But you just said it was too early.”

“Whatever,” she laughs, adjusting her sports bra underneath her tank top. She probably needs a shower before she goes or her sweat is going to mold this bra into her skin. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”