#(with pete standing apart in the hall)

[fromperdition4]

I deeply appreciate that our two main couples both end the series with the one who initially had more power declaring them to be equals.

[cosmal]

✪ — sender  is  found  drunk  by  receiver, ❛ i just wanted to make sure you’re okay. ❜

tequila makes me sleepy

summary — pete comes to find you at a party after you call him.

content — tasm!peter parker x fem!afab!reader, drunk!reader, metnions of gross guys sexualizing reader

Peter doesn't have his mask on. He's been swinging about Queens trying to find the party you're at and he hasn't thought about how he's recognisable the entire time.

He thinks about how tired you'd sounded on the phone. How you'd begged him to stay on the phone so you wouldn't fall asleep. Thinking about it more makes him panicky, but he can't help it.

"Tequila makes me sleepy, Parker."

"Yeah? Where are you, honey?"

"Some party. Stay on the phone? Don't wanna fall asleep."

Eventually, he finds the party. In the back of his dizzy mind, he remembers you mentioning it on Tuesday when you were over at his apartment. He remembers how excited you were about it and how upset you were because he wasn't coming.

He lands in the alley beside the building and wastes no time in pushing through the front door. He stands in the front entranceway and starts to get frustrated. Most of the time, he hates his enhanced senses. Even more so right now because he can't hear you.

He blames it on the crowd. There are way too many people here for him to be focusing on just one. But it's you. He knows more about you than he does himself and he can't fucking hear you. He hopes that he's too overwhelmed. The reason why he can't hear you. Not because you've left and you're somewhere, drunk and unsafe, where he can't find you.

"Hey," he grabs the arm of some drunk guy, "where's the bedroom?"

Pointing down to the left with a wobbly arm, "Down that hall," he slurs.

Peter doesn't say thank you. He drops his arm and heads In that direction. Avoiding PDA and more rowdy drunk guys.

The relief he feels when he pushes open the door only lasts a few moments. He finds you, on your stomach with your face smooshed against your arm, asleep. Your sparkly dress rides up your legs to reveal enough bare skin to make Peter feel uncomfortable. He's grateful he's here right now.

The mattress dips down where he sits down by your head, and can't help himself from pushing your messy hair from your face.

Your lips parted, you wrinkle up your face when you start to rouse. Peter is selfish with his hands, squeezing at the fat of your shoulder, running a knuckle down your soft cheek. Slowly, you come to, blinking away your fatigue. Peter, and he's super sorry for it, thinks you're adorable.

"Hello," he says softly. He doesn't know why, but he feels guilty for waking you.

"Peter," you say, lips sticking together with blotchy gloss, "Pete, hey." This time when you say it, it's just understandable. He appreciates the fond hum to your words nonetheless.

"Hey," he says and pushes his thumb into your cheek. You groan because he's a nuisance but he doesn't care because you're okay.

You sit up on your elbows and he can tell you're trying not to wobble. He wants to stable you but doesn't know how to in your position. You seem as dizzy as he'd expect because you always are when drunk. You have the scars on your knees to prove it.

"What are you doing here?" you mumble, scratching at your face with a flippancy he hates.

He catches your hand and rubs your face for you. Gently, because he's not mean, he smooths the back of his hand down your cheek and pushes his fingers over your eyebrow and into your hair.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay," he tells you. "You sounded bad on the phone, honey."

"Shit, I'm," you hiccup and he panics for a moment. "Shit I'm sorry, Pete, I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," he says honestly. You did scare him but it's okay now because it was reasonable. And you're okay.

You sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed and he stables you with a hand on the bottom of your back. Pulling your dress down your legs, he frowns when you shiver.

"You cold?" he worries.

Nodding, you clearly regret it with a groan. "A little. This dress is horrible."

"You think?"

"Yeah, it's itchy and-" you're hiccuping some more and he hopes you don't make yourself sick, "it's too small. The guys here- they, they're gross."

Peter goes rigid. "They didn't do anything did they?"

You shake your head and there's a timidness to you that Pete wants to capture and keep forever. You, an image, rumpled clothes and droopy eyes. Despite how worried he'd been only ten minutes ago, he thinks you're amazing. It's terrifying, honestly.

"No, they just look at me..." you trail off and look at the wall over Peter's shoulder quickly, "They look at me like I'm a piece of meat."

Peter doesn't know what to say. He feels queasy.

"Well, they don't look at me like you are right now."

"Like what?" he lets his tongue catch up to his head.

"I don't know." You shrug and look at your lap.

Peter can't help himself. "I hope they don't look at you like I do. Like you're the prettiest girl in the room. If they do, they need to find someone else."

You let your head fall against his shoulder. "Pete..."

"It's true."

"They don't." He can hear your smile.

"They don't?" Peter now sounds half-offended. "Who else are they looking at like that? You're the prettiest girl in the room."

You have the decency in you to scoff. "You're unbelievable."

"I know," he says when you yawn. "I know. C'mon let's get you home."

[ssspideysense]

˚⋆｡˚ ❀ little white stick

summary: peter finds something in your trash can.

pairing: tasm!peter parker x f!reader

tags: fluff, established relationship, unplanned pregnancy

wc: 1.8k

He’d never been more intimidated by a piece of plastic.

Peter flipped the white stick in his hand over, and over, and over again. His head was swimming, even after he ripped his mask off to get a better look. A sense of desperation fluttered in his chest. He held the end of the stick and shook it, but this was no magic 8-ball— the message in the window stayed the same, staring back at him.

Pregnant.

He should’ve minded his own business. Probably should’ve pissed behind a dumpster somewhere instead of slipping through your window for his little pit stop, too. And he really should’ve pulled his head out of his ass long enough to realize those were your keys jangling at the front door.

Peter flinched in the abrasive bathroom light once he heard you shut the door behind you. The test leapt from his gloved hands and clattered on the tile, now essentially a live stick of dynamite, spitting sparks that lit a fire under his feet.

He heard you pause in the breezeway, your tired and shuffling footsteps falling silent like he tried to be. He bent to scoop up the stick quickly, shoving it back into the little trash can where he found it.

Peter jumped upright again and smacked his head on the underside of the sink with a loud THUNK.

He stumbled back— his foot tipped the can over — he grabbed the towel bar for balance but ripped it right out of the wall instead.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, holding the metal bar in one hand while he scrambled for the pregnancy test kicked beside the toilet.

“Hello? I—I have a gun,” you called out cautiously from down the hall after his chaotic symphony of crashes. You’d always been a terrible liar, really, but he couldn’t blame you for trying.

Groaning, Peter held the loose fixture in one hand, and the test in the other.

He was panicking. But he couldn’t leave you to panic, thinking there was some intruder creeping around your apartment. Swiftly, he shoved the stick underneath his mask on the bathroom counter and yanked the door open.

“Baby, it’s me—“ he paused, looking at you standing there, poised to strike with your elementary spelling bee trophy gripped like a bat in both hands, “—nice form, by the way. Look at those legs.”

And you deflated upon seeing him, letting your arms fall to your sides. “Christ, Pete. A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Were you about to hit me with that?”

“Is that my towel rack?”

You stared at each other for a moment before chuckling quietly in tandem. Both of your hearts raced to their own erratic rhythms in the dark hallway— but for completely different reasons. Peter examined the metal bar in his hand before laying it next to the sink. “I can fix it, I promise.”

“I’m starting to think you’re more trouble than you’re worth, Parker,” you mused with a heavy sigh.

Peter waited until you turned on your heel before snatching up his mask and the little bomb underneath it. He trailed behind you with a forced air of nonchalance. “Oh, c’mon. I’m a real handy guy to have around. I fix towel racks, open jars, uh… water your plants,” he said, eyeing the droopy flowers on your kitchen windowsill. “Alright, there are better examples, but I whacked my head pretty hard in there, so you’ll just have to use your imagination for now.”

You offered a little huff of a laugh over your shoulder and slipped your shoes off by the front door. “Doing what?”

“Huh?”

The doe-eyed bewilderment on his face made you smile once your gaze met his. “In the bathroom. How’d you whack your head?” You asked.

His grip tightened on his mask. That nervous, almost boyish grin of his paired so well with his airy chuckle. “Uh, y’know. I saw a… bug. On the floor. Pretty gnarly stuff,” he cleared his throat and leaned himself against the kitchen archway with arms crossed over his chest.

You shot him an amused grin as you breezed past him, flicking on the lights. He’d looked a bit ruffled in the dark. Now, in the warm kitchen glow, you could see the nerves ticking away behind his eyes.

“A bug, hm?” You peered at him from the fridge. “Well, thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Must’ve scared you pretty bad.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “well, y’know, not that bad. I mean, yeah, I was pretty startled at first. Pretty, uh… surprised, since I know we’re— you’re really… careful about stuff like that,” he cleared his throat again.

You pulled a water bottle from the fridge and watched him, pinning him to that spot against the wall with just an arch of your brow. “Careful?”

Peter pretended to be busy reading your whiteboard calendar stuck to the wall. “Yeah. I mean, you’re really responsible, and you take care of yourself and your things. But, y’know, these things happen sometimes. It’s not the end of the world. Maybe it could be a good thing, actually.”

Slowly, you cracked open the bottle and took a long sip. Peter switched his focus to a little photo of the both of you on the fridge door. You were kissing his cheek, he was beaming at the camera — he remembered that day, a handful of months ago. He’d taken you to an art museum and said some corny line about how you were the most breathtaking piece in every room. It didn’t matter how cliché it was when you smiled so brightly in response.

Maybe it could be a good thing…

“So… did you kill it?”

“What?”

The water bottle crinkled in your hand. “The bug, Pete.”

Oh, right. The bug.

“Oh— uh, no,” he admitted, and that automatic flash of horror that flickered on his face went just as fast as it came, “you startled me when you came home, so it… got away, probably.”

A small hum left your lips. You turned to pour a little of your water into the wilting flower beds behind the sink. “I thought you could sense me with your… special tingle thing,” you said.

Peter ran his unoccupied hand through his messy hair. “Well, I usually can. I guess I was just really focused, or… something…” he mumbled. Focused… or really fucking floored. Either way, his reflexes were not showroom quality at the moment, he had to admit.

“Right,” you replied, shooting him another pointed look. The way he seemed to squirm and fidget told you everything in that moment. Peter was a terrible liar, really, but you couldn’t blame him for trying. A falling sort of feeling fluttered in your stomach, knowing what he knew as he stood before you.

The clock hanging on the kitchen wall ticked loudly. The fridge hummed. You both stared at each other, saying a lot without saying anything.

He loved you. He knew he did. And he knew you loved him, too. He just didn’t know why you didn’t tell him about this— and, better yet, he had no idea how to bring it up.

Peter’s hands wrung around his mask and the truth bomb inside of it. You sucked in a long breath through your nose.

“Are you pregnant?”

“I’m pregnant.”

You both spoke at the same time yet again. You both felt your hearts drop simultaneously.

But Peter’s shoulders fell and a powerful breath escaped him, like releasing a heavy weight. He shifted to lean against the kitchen counter, gripping the edge of it for balance.

“I came in to use your bathroom really quick and while I was peeing I glanced down and saw— saw this—“ he pulled the stick out from his mask, holding it in the air like some magical item as he rambled, “—and I thought it was fake at first, like, some weird prank, but it looks really real— at least I think it does, I haven’t really seen a whole lot of them in person— but then I realized that’d be a weird prank and you weren’t even home and then you came home and I panicked and—“

“And you ripped my towel rack off,” you cut in.

“And I accidentally grabbed your towel rack, and you tried to assault me with a trophy—“

“I thought you were some weirdo waiting to kidnap me!”

“You need to work on your big girl voice, by the way. They’re supposed to actually believe you have a gun.”

Your unamused glare was betrayed by the hint of a smile on your lips. It was gone with a slight shake of your head, though, brought back to the situation at hand. “You snooped through my stuff?”

Peter paused. “I didn’t… I didn’t snoop . I wasn’t looking for anything. I just saw it,” he said, “it was in the trash.” He watched you avert your gaze and gently wrap your arms around yourself, just a few feet away from him in your quiet kitchen. The last thing he wanted was for this to feel like some sort of confrontation. He had a million questions, and a million emotions, but even in his slight panic and shock Peter could recognize this was strange and difficult for you, as well. “When… when did you take this?”

His voice was softer now, and it almost made everything worse. You sighed, fingers smoothing over your own arms in a self-soothing motion. “The other night,” you replied quietly.

“Okay,” he swallowed, trying to think. Be empathetic, Peter. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Clearly stressed, your head rolled back in slight exasperation and a light groan escaped you. “I was going to. I just— do you know how daunting that is? I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

The smallest quiver in your words broke his heart.

Peter was fast. He moved forward, discarding the things in his hands and shifting them to sit on your hips. “Hey,” he soothed, his thumbs kneading gently into the soft skin just under your shirt. “It’s okay. I’m not mad, baby. I get it. It’s a lot to deal with.”

Your gaze was fixed forward, stuck on the black spider emblem on his chest. Peter let his hands gently glide up your sides, to sit over your shoulder blades. He pulled you into his chest and pressed his mouth to the top of your head.

There was so much to say and Peter’s brain refused to cooperate— he enjoyed holding you, though, sighing softly once he felt you finally lean in.

There was a lot to talk about. A lot to think about. But despite the strange mix of vulnerability and anxiety making your chest tight, Peter’s air of sweetness softened the raw feeling.

Obviously, something like this wasn’t on your radar, at least not right now. The ‘what about our future’ discussion was nerve-wracking enough without this sort of… push. But, unfortunately, you couldn’t just ignore it. The gears were already turning and nearly spitting smoke out of your ears when Peter broke up your whirlwind of thoughts.

“… I’m just saying, PJ is a cute nickname for Peter Junior.”

He felt you smile against his chest.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew Your Were Trouble When You Walked In 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, dry humping, violence, threats, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Come on, sweetheart. You’re not gonna lay on the couch all day, are you?” Pete stands above you as you hug a pillow. 

A clammy sheen coats your body as your insides ache. As much as you want to scrape his touch off of you, it lingers. The humiliation is as boiling as the fever. Your body aches through and through. Your stomach is empty but sickened and your head just keeps pounding. 

You whimper, “please.” 

“Now, why are you acting like this when I just treated you all nice.” He bends over you and lowers his voice, “we both felt that.” 

“No, please,” you croak and cover your head. “I... I need to call the clinic.” 

“You’ll go in a few days for your next appointment. Let old Pete take care of you.” He hooks an arm under you and halls you up. You cry out at the agony. “What’re you being so pathetic for? I didn’t even ask you to suck it yet.” 

You push on his chest as your legs shake under your weight. “You don’t...get it. I’m sick. I could die.” 

“You’re not gonna die, sweetheart.” He grabs you by the chin and lets you dangle. “You’re going to learn your lesson.” 

You whimper and latch onto him. You can barely stand. You haven’t felt like this in so long. You hate it. It reminds you of when you were helpless. When you were tied to a hospital bed and waiting for the end. 

“Don’t you go crying. That doesn’t do nothing for anyone, does it? What you do is you say, ‘I’m sorry, Pete. I’ll be your good girl.’” He jerks you meanly. 

You sniffle and flutter your lashes, “Pete. P-Pete. I’m sorry.” Your throat tightens around each syllable, “I’ll be a good... girl.” 

“No, no, say it right.” 

“I’ll... be your good girl.” You whine. “Please call the clinic, please.” 

“Shhhh,” he snakes his hand around your neck and bends to hook his other arm around you. He scoops you up and the world tilts around you. “I got you, sweetheart. I got my good girl.” 

He snickers and winks as he carries you across the apartment. You lean into him. You can’t do much else but let him do what he wants.  

He takes you into the bedroom and lays you on the bed. You groan and melt into the mattress. He looms over you, hands on his hips, and tuts. 

“See, I can be nice. I’m not even gonna make you do nothing. You can watch.” 

You babble dumbly. You don’t understand. You can hardly think straight. Your head lolls as you watch him move around the room. 

He goes to the dresser and pulls open the top drawer. You blink and stare as he reaches inside. He sifts around before plucking out a pair of your panties. He turns back and struts up to the bed, his other hand tugging at his pants. 

He pulls his dick over the top of the fabric and wraps your panties around his length. You stammer senselessly as he pumps himself slowly. He moans into a snicker. 

“I just gotta imagine how the real thing feels, huh? I don’t need you all dopey headed as I’m scrambling your guts.” He growls and speeds up, his breath harrying with his motion. “Just a little preview for my good girl.” 

He strokes himself, his head poking out above the rumpled panties. Your eyes glaze and you turn your head up. He snarls and grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him. He leans a knee on the bed as he keeps going. 

He hisses and huffs. You feel the tension in his grip. He grunts and spasms, gritting his teeth as he leans over you. 

“Open up, sweetheart.” He squeezes until your squeal and part your lips.  

He pushes his tip against your mouth and twitches. He cums in a fit of tremours, his low voice droning around you. You nearly gag on the taste of him, just as nauseated by your own helplessness. 

He slows and smears the slick mess around your lips with his swollen head. He shivers and cups his balls as he sighs. He lets you go and gently taps your cheek. 

“See, I knew you could be good for me.” 

[worldofheroes]

Home

pete “maverick” mitchell x fem!reader

summary: maverick makes it home after the mission and has missed you.

warnings: 18+, set after TGM, mention of bruises, mention of death, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, age gap

wc: 815

a/n: based on this request. I absolutely love writing for older Mav 😍

You hear the front door open to your house.

He’s home.

You carefully make your way to the foyer to greet him. You find him with his back against the door, head resting against it with his eyes closed.

“Mav,” you breathe, relieved that he is home in one piece.

Maverick opens his eyes and looks at you, a small smile spreading on his face. “Hi sweetheart,” he says, pushing himself off the door.

You don’t say anything more, you just move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He wraps you in his arms, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Pete,” you sigh into his body.

He kisses the top of your head. The two of you stand there for a minute, not saying anything.

“You’re home,” you say, breaking the silence.

“I am,” he sighs.

“How was the mission?”

He pulls away slightly, taking a long look at you.

“Pete?”

“You don’t understand how happy I am to see you,” he says, finally giving you a kiss.

“You should show me.”

You feel him smile against your lips. He starts to push you backwards down the hall to the bedroom, clothes being dropped along the way - his jacket, your shirt, his shirt… by the time you reach the bed, you’re in just your panties and he’s in his briefs.

You notice the bruises on his skin, and your fingertips softly glide over them.

“You took a beating,” you frown.

“Don’t worry about them,” he mumbles, kissing your neck.

“Mav,” you sigh, his kisses instantly making you melt beneath him.

Maverick gently pushes you onto the bed and he crawls over you.

“You really have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he murmurs as he kisses down your body.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you ask him.

He shakes his head. “I just want to forget about it right now.”

“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.

Maverick pushes your legs apart and starts to kiss your inner thigh. You throw your head back against the pillow, hips slightly bucking in anticipation.

“Easy,” he smiles against your skin.

He pulls your panties down and slots his mouth against you, eager to taste you again after a long month away.

“Pete!” you exclaim as pleasure fills your senses.

He hums against you, getting sloppy with his work, making obscene noises that just turn you on further.

“Fuck! Pete!” you exclaim again, grabbing at his hair as the pleasure overwhelming you.

Maverick takes notice and backs off. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

He crawls back over you, leaning down and kissing you, languidly. You sigh happily, running your hands through his hair.

Maverick works his briefs down as he kisses you, pumping himself through his fist.

“Y/n,” he breathes, lining himself up with your slit.

“Pete,” you say, studying his face.

His eyes dark with love, he pushes in you, making you throw your head back against the pillow and closing your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he hums, kissing your neck.

“Fuck, Mav, you… you feel so good,” you manage to say as he rocks his hips against you.

“I’ve missed all of this,” he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he begins to go harder and faster.

“Pete, please,” you cry, feeling your orgasm build.

“That’s it,” he growls, thrusting into you like it’s the last thing he’ll do.

“Fuck, Pete, right there,” you exclaim as your orgasm washes over you.

“Fuck,” Maverick groans, chasing his own orgasm.

You hold tightly onto Maverick as he finds his release, his warm cum coating your walls.

Maverick slows, shallowly thrusting now. He props himself up to look at you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighs, moving to lay down next to you.

“My baby,” you say, kissing his chest.

“I really thought I wasn’t going to make it back,” Maverick says, staring at the ceiling. “Then Rooster saved my life and thought we both weren’t gonna make it back.”

You don’t say anything, you just continue to pepper his body with kisses.

“If we had died… I don’t think I could’ve faced Goose. If we hadn’t made it back to the carrier…”

His voice cracks.

“Hey,” you say, moving so you can see his face. “You made it home, okay? You’re back with me. You’re safe. Rooster’s safe. I’m sure Goose is proud of both of you.”

You wipe Maverick’s tears away. He nods at your words.

“And I love you more than anything, for what it’s worth,” you add with a small smile.

“How did I get so lucky?” Maverick asks, pulling you down and kissing you. “Why did you agree to date an old man like me?”

“Mav,” you half-heartedly scold, lightly hitting his chest.

“I love you too, y/n,” Maverick says. “Thank you for being my home.”

“I would do anything for you, Pete.”

[hailey-dilmore-the-worm]

HAILEYS BULLET OF REVENGE

OCC: IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: THIS IS A REWRITE BECAUSE I WAS STUPID AS FUCK AND ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT... ☹️ BUT IMA GO AND REWRITE IT ALL AGAIN... WARNING: this story contains violence, insults, verbal assault , blood, death, guns and all along the lines of that..THANK YOU. this is a continuation of my roleplay with @ethan-green-69420 , if your reading this, sorry it took so long as I said I accidentally deleted the original...]]

Orange: hailey

Red: zoey

*after her meet up with Ethan, Hailey dilmore walks through the quiet streets of Hatchet Town, the sun settings light shining through the buildings of the streets. As she walked on, Hailey remembers that she left her car back at pizza Pete's.. of course she did.. well it's too far now, she'll go pick it up tomorrow at some point.. that's if ... She's even alive by tomorrow after the course of her plan. She shakes it off, and eventually finally arrives at the apartment building. Walking through the main door and pressing the button on the elevator listening to the rumble of the elevator before it finally dings open. She walks in and presses the button to the 8th floor, watching the doors close and feeling the elevator pull her up to the floor, once again watching the doors ding open. She'd walk out the elevator and through the apartment buildings halls until she stops at her apartment door. She takes out her key and opens the door, closing it and placing her key on the key rack hung up near the front door. Placing her bag down and walking into the main room. No one but her and Zoey was home, which is perfect.. the other girls went out for a meal, Zoey would have too, but the embarrassment of loosing her voice completely during the honey queen pageant still lingers, aswell as her voice still being pretty fucked up still. She'd walk up to Zoey's room and knocks on the door entering*

"hey Zoey.. how are y-"

*before she can say anything else, shes interrupted by Zoey. Her voice rasped and croaked*

"shut up worm.. get out I don't want to talk to you right now."

"right I know that but.. I want to talk to you."

*Zoey rolls her eyes and sits up from her bed she was laying on*

"allright what is it Hailey.."

*Hailey took a deep breath and looked Zoey in the eyes with a serious stare in her eyes*

"I want you to.. to stop."

"stop..?? Hailey what the actual fuck are you on about."

"stop ... Stop blaming me for your issues, assuming it's always me that caused them-!!!! Stop using me as a door mat for yourself-! Putting me down so you can feel good about yourself-!! Insulting me and talking about me behind my back to all your freinds-!! Stop threatening to kick me out of the dorm just because I'm struggling with stomach problems-!"

*silence breaks the room.. their heartbeats the only sound, but was shortly lived as a broken choked laugh escapes Zoey's mouth, as she'd stand up and walks over to Hailey*

"your ... Your joking ... your funny!! You're having a laugh!! Right??"

"no...no I'm not joking I'm serious-! This is what I'm talking ab-"

"shut up...shut ... Up ... Hailey.. I will kick you out of this apartment.. I will end your career, I get you into those shows.. all you have is because of m-"

*Zoey was suddenly shut up by a loud echoed SLAP across the room, a seering pain surges through Zoey's face as she'd stare at Hailey in shock*

"..Zoey...I don't want YOU here anymore..I want you to leave... I'm standing up for myself and .. everyone else you've bitched at-.. lea-"

*as retaliation, in a fit of rage Zoey let out a yell of anger, thrusting her fist into Haley's face causing her to stumble back out the room. Zoey follows, wiping Hailey's blood off her knuckles*

"you... Fucking dare...I'll kill you ...you fucking.. worm..."

*Hailey stands up, spitting out a splatter of blood as she'd lunge at Zoey back. Starting a big fight between themselves. Punches and slaps throw across the room, until Hailey switches it up and wraps her hands around Zoey's neck, in an attempt to strangle her to death, Zoey in panic thrashes around, knocking stuff off the shelves and tables. And is finally able to break free as Hailey finds Zoey's knee striking her straight in the stomach, pushing her onto the floor in a winded state. Zoey gasps, catching her breath before making her way over to Hailey*

"you..you be got some nerve... Get ... Get out of my apartment..or I'll make you myself.."

*Hailey grits her teeth, so it's come to this, she reaches for the gun in her back pocket, turning the safety off*

"Zoey...I'm... So...sorry..for everything..."

"your sorry?? Your fucking sorry???? I not accepting that... After all of that-!!!!! You... Son..of a-"

*Zoey was silenced, after a flash of God awful pain struck her through the chest followed by a loud BANG. She'd look down, finding a bullet wound, right in her chest, she'd struggle to breath as she'd cough up blood, her legs trembling to the floor. Opposite of the dying zoey, Hailey stands back up for the second time, her eyes pink, and glowing whilst watching her friend struggle on the floor, breathing slowly until her breaths disappear and the life from her eyes drain away..*

"now...now who's the worm...huh...who's the worm now..!!"

*she'd bend down to check if she's still breathing, finding out she's gone, before walking over to the mirror, looking at herself in it, before taking out her phone and texting @ethan-green-69420 *

["its done...she's gone... I don't know how long the others will be before they come back so...please hurry-"]

OOC: YIPEE FINALLY I HOPE I DONT DELETE IT AGAIN....

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Can't Stay Away, Can't Look Away - Steve Raglan/William Afton X Female Reader

Title: Can't Stay Away, Can't Look Away

Steve Raglan/William Afton X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Pete the Chef OC and Marie OC

WC: 2,917

Warnings: A bit of obsession, maybe stalking maybe not?, Reader is a waitress and is mentioned wearing a skirt for work, teasing, flirting?, serial killer stuff mentioned very briefly, Reader has very brief negative thoughts, age gap, mini angst, and fluff

The uniform beat of the clock was the only sound in the room as it ticked away. It seemed to echo throughout Steve Raglan's office. The silence was unnerving, and the ticking of the clock seemed to be a constant reminder of the fact that time was indeed slowly crawling forward with each minute that passed.

Sitting in his swivel chair, Steve glanced over some client files, occasionally humming to himself as he used his feet to turn himself in his chair; side to side. Letting out a silent sigh, he closed the dull yellow file and sat it on his desk with the others. Pushing up the bridge of his gold-framed aviator glasses, Steve looked up at the clock. Upon reaching his scheduled lunch break, he pushed himself off the chair before grabbing his coat and shrugging it on. Adjusting his tie as he left his office, he walked down the hall, passing other offices before exiting the large building. 

It was a bright afternoon, though Steve hardly noticed as he made his way down the sidewalk, a certain confidence in each step. As he walked, he passed by the local flower shop, which stood beside a small bookstore, before crossing the street and the busy intersection to pass by the park. This was a part of Steve's routine, every weekday since about a couple of months ago. He always left his office at the same time for lunch, passed the same shops and stores, and entered the same diner for that said lunch. 

Pushing the glass door open, Steve walked in, only to sit down at his usual spot. Though the restored diner from the 1960s was practically in new shape, the edges of the red leather booth where Steve sat were beginning to peel from age. The menu board was still hung up behind the counter, along with other posters, antique metal signs of cars, and other things that had been in the diner longer than Steve cared to really care about. The jukebox in the corner was softly playing a song, ‘Put Your Head On My Shoulder,’ a song by Paul Anka. The walls were a pastel blue, red, and white, with some white tile detailing here and there. 

Going to the diner was routine for him, as said before, he went there every weekday to get his lunch. But he didn't go because the food was out of this world, or to appreciate the aesthetic of the place or anything like that. No, he came for you. 

You were a waitress at the tiny diner, dressed in the typical 1960s waitress attire, you scurried to the awaiting people, pouring their drinks and serving their food. Sure, there were other waitresses there, but they weren't you. No, there was something special about you that made Steve want to come there every day for the sake of seeing you. You were beautiful, with bright, sparkling eyes, and soft lips that spoke words so sweetly. You just gave off a feeling that made you stand apart, an aura of warmth and affection. So Steve took a liking to you. And he couldn't understand why he did, no matter how hard he tried. He just felt drawn to you. Like magnetite to a magnet.

Walking out of the backroom, you froze, seeing Steve sitting in his usual booth, hands clasped, looking out the window. Letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, you felt your heart begin to race. Oh, what that man did to you, even just his presence alone brought a smile to your face. Brushing down your waitress skirt, you didn't bother to grab your notepad and pen from your skirt pocket as you walked over. You knew his order well. Well enough that you had it memorized; a BLT and a cup or two of black coffee.

Stepping in front of the table, the man looked up, your smile softened slightly, "Good afternoon, Steve. Do you want your usual?" You asked, and what you had asked him practically every day since he came into the little diner a couple of months ago. 

The man gave you a small grin back, his clasped hands shifting slightly, making you look down at the movement; his sleeves were pushed back above his elbows, strong forearms exposed. Steve noticed your gaze, his eyes glancing down at your mouth as you bought your bottom lip in between your teeth, "Good afternoon, Y/N. Yes, I would like my usual." He answered, his words making you look back into his blue eyes before you cleared your throat nervously.

You gave him a nod, bits of stray hairs falling in front of your face as you did so, "... Alright, I'll make sure that it arrives soon." With one last look at him, brushing the stray hairs behind your ears, you headed towards the kitchen. 

Steve watched you go, staring after you until you disappeared around the corner into the kitchen. He sighed quietly as he leaned back in his seat. Meanwhile, you leaned against the wall near the kitchen door, letting out a breath as you pressed your hand on your chest, feeling your racing heart pound and hammer against your chest. Taking one last breath, you got a hold of yourself, pushing through the large kitchen to find Pete, the chef. 

Peering past a metal counter, you smiled at the old man who was mixing some sort of salad, "Hey, Pete," You grinned, "We got a seven and a black coffee." You spoke, gaining the man's attention. Pivoting his weight to his hip, he placed a hand there, tilting his head as he took in your expression; but mostly your eyes. He could tell that something was going on. 

"He's here, isn't he?" Pete asked, watching your face flush, as you glanced and looked everywhere but at him, his grin widened. 

"Yeah, Pete, he is. Can I please just get his order? Please, no teasing." You begged with a slight whine to your voice.

Pete, an old man in his sixties, had been working at the diner since he was in his twenties; and had been sort of a cool uncle figure to you, only shrugged his shoulders. Turning back around, he began to prepare Steve's order. "Sure thing, dearie," He replied softly, chuckling lightly. "You should probably head over and get him his coffee, don't want Marie to get to him before you do. She won't be so merciful."

Nodding your head you rushed out of the kitchen, heading behind the counter, passing Marie, who only grinned as you passed by her. Pouring the black coffee, you let out one last breath, mentally hyping yourself up before you walked back over to Steve. 

He raised his head, meeting your eyes as you carefully sat the coffee down in front of him. "Thank you, Y/N." He spoke, giving you the same small smile that made you want to melt. 

"You're welcome, Steve. Is there anything else you'd like while you wait? We just added a blueberry pie to the menu this morning." You asked, but the man just shook his head, his intense gaze unmoving as he gave you a small toothy grin.

"No, I'm alright."

Nodding, you gestured back to the kitchen, "I'll, uh, go check up on your food then."

Rushing back to the kitchen, you found Marie inside, Pete still working on the bacon portion of Steve's order. Marie turned to you, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. "He's here." She sang in a soft sing-song voice, smirking.

Throwing your hands up, you huffed, "Yes, that's quite obvious. He's here every day at twelve-thirty on the dot." You retorted.

Marie laughed, shaking her head, "I just find it funny is all."

You furrowed your eyebrows, watching as Pete began to chop up a tomato. "What's funny?"

"That you get so flustered around him." She answered, making you look down at your feet.

Marie had been your best friend since you were both in high school. She had been in the same few classes with you, and the both of you had gotten along great, even going to the same college. Later, you both tried going your separate ways, but this town had some pull on the both of you - so you both ended up working at the diner after a while of job searching. She was usually the voice of reason, the one you looked up to whenever you had a difficult question or task. She really was a great friend.

"I try not to be." You answered simply, turning to Pete, "Is his sandwich ready?" You asked as the man nodded, stabbing the red foil-tipped toothpick in the center of the bread; topping it all off. 

“This might be the best one yet.” Pete marveled, staring down at his sandwich with pride, but without another word, you grabbed the plate with the BLT and pushed the kitchen door open.

Walking over with his food, you felt your irritation fade away as Steve looked up, his grin growing. Placing the food down in front of him, you noticed that his coffee cup was empty. Gesturing to it, you spoke, "Would you like a refill?"

"Yes, thank you," He spoke, watching as you quickly grabbed the coffee pot from the counter across from him, pouring more of the coffee into his cup. "How has your day been, Y/N?" He asked, you had been preparing yourself for today's conversation.

"It's been alright," You said, your voice soft. A nervous chuckle escaped you before you continued, "Just trying to keep busy. How's everything with you?" You asked, hoping to change the subject a bit.

“The same as usual, I'm afraid." He answered, similar to what he told you every time you asked him how he was.

"Well," You cleared your throat, "I'll let you eat. Let me know if you need anything, okay?" You asked, smiling slightly, giving him one last look before walking back to the counter.

"Of course..." He muttered, mostly to himself, watching as you slid behind the counter with your co-worker, grabbing a rag and beginning to clean the marble with it. 

Looking down at the table, his sandwich seemed to stare right up at him. Picking it up with both hands, he bit into his BLT, taking a moment before letting his eyes wander the room before they settled on you once more. Watching as you talked with your co-worker, a smile on your face and hers. The co-worker occasionally glanced over at him, making him turn back to stare at his table, chewing his sandwich slowly. Straining his ears, he tried to listen in on your conversation.

"He's staring at you again," Marie spoke under her breath, "It's kind of creepy." 

Hitting her arm with the rag, you lightly glared at her, "Don't be rude. Or too loud… He might hear you…" 

"What?" She asked defensively, "It is, he's looking at you like a creep."

"And what about that? Should I be worried?" You challenged, raising an eyebrow as you went back to rubbing at the counter in front of you. “I think it’s sweet,” You muttered, and Marie didn’t seem to notice.

Sighing, she shook her head, crossing her arms, "I mean, maybe? Who knows? Maybe he's some serial killer."

You sputtered a laugh, raising your hand to cover your mouth, "You're ridiculous, Marie. He may be a bit… Antisocial, but that does not mean he’s some crazy murderer.”

Marie sighed again, glancing back over at him, "He’s still staring."

"I doubt it." You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I'm not someone to stare at."

Marie stared at you, raising her eyebrow, "Girl, you're gorgeous. Shut up. And he is, look."

Rolling your eyes at her, you worried on your lip as you glanced over at him, noticing that he was indeed staring at you. It wasn't hard to notice that fact, with how much his eyes were locked onto yours, especially when you could almost feel them piercing through you. Your cheeks flushed with heat, as your stomach twisted and flipped. You dipped your head, biting into your lip with a bit more force so as not to let the growing smile slip onto your face.

"I might do something risky," You muttered, your voice soft, breathless. Marie noticed, raising both her eyebrows this time in surprise. “I’ve been thinking about doing it for a while…”

"Oh, wow, he's really got you wrapped around his finger, doesn't he? You're whipped."

You shook your head, twisting the rap between your hands, straining your fingers slightly with the force, "No, I'm not."

"You're whipped. Smitten. Absolutely enamored. You've got the hots for this guy." She continued to tease, making you let out a deep sigh, tossing the rag down on the counter. "What are you planning to do exactly, hon?" She then asked, noticing that she really wasn't helping you in this situation.

"I might give him my number." You muttered, taking a quick glance over to see him finishing his coffee; plate clean. You couldn’t help but admire his side profile, taking in his perfect features. His dark hair, sprinkled with gray, looked so soft. It looked like it would be great to run your fingers through it. Your hand moved to the front of your head, pulling on a loose strand of hair before returning it behind your ear. You wondered, as you stared at him, if his beard would be soft or rough... “Oh God...” You murmured under your breath.

Marie took a step forward, placing a hand on your arm, snapping your gaze back to her, "Hon... Uh, you don't have to listen to me… But isn’t he a bit too old for you?”

You tilted your head at her, confusion etching onto your face, "Too old?"

She nodded her head, "Yea, y'know, he's like forty or fifty or somethin'. There’s a pretty big age gap between you two.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, your lips parted slightly, sort of speechless. "Marie... I don't care how old he is... I don't care about age gaps. If I was like eighteen, then yeah, that would be a problem to me, but I am twenty-five... I just... I don't know… As long as we are two consenting adults… I- uh…" You trailed off. “You’re stressing me out.”

“I’m sorry,” Marie smiled sweetly, patting you on the shoulder gently, "Don't mind me then. I just want you to be a bit cautious… That is, unless he's super rich, then I say go for it.” You shook your head, letting out a small chuckle, before nodding your head towards the man in question.

"I should check on him. His lunch break is almost over." Marie watched you go, sighing before she left for the kitchen. Walking over, Steve sat his empty coffee cup down, looking up at you with a small grin, a strange glint in his eyes. "Ready for the bill, Steve?" You asked.

"I believe so," He sighed, grabbing into his jacket pocket beside him to grab his wallet. "Same as always?" He asked, and you hummed in confirmation. Pulling out a twenty dollar bill, he handed it to you. Your fingers brushed his as you took it, trying to ignore the sudden tingling feeling in your stomach at the contact. Stuffing the ten in your pocket, you pulled out a ten dollar bill. But, Steve only shook his head, “You keep that.”

Nodding with a small, grateful smile, you nodded, “Thank you, Steve.”

Shaking his head, he stood, "You don’t have to thank me. Your service was excellent, as always." He said simply, slipping his arms through the sleeves.

"Thank you," You muttered softly, blinking rapidly before you stuffed the money into your pocket, quickly opening your notepad and writing something down.

Steve watched you curiously as he adjusted the collar of his coat before you ripped the paper from the small notebook and handed it to him; unable to meet his gaze. He opened it slowly, his eyes reading and rereading the number - he could only assume it was your number - that you had haphazardly written down for him; though you were quick to write it, it was still neat and Steve could read it easily. Looking up at you, you finally managed to glance back up at him.

Folding the note, Steve slid it in his pocket, "I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked simply, watching as you nodded. He hummed, glancing around the features of your face before he found himself raising his hand, brushing the stubborn wisps behind your ear, the tips of his fingers lingering a second too long on the softness of your cheek before he pulled away. Your eyes widened a fraction, your lips opening slightly as a small, inaudible gasp left you. Steve swallowed thickly, swiftly turning on his heel before he lost what little control he had over himself, walking out of the diner, the door shutting behind him.

Standing there, you stared after him, letting out a sigh. What was that? Not that you were complaining. You slowly raised your hand, brushing your fingers along the same trail that he had touched moments ago, feeling the warmth. He had been so gentle and careful and... So warm. It felt good. You couldn't help but smile lightly. You hoped that he'd call you.

And he would. You'd be hearing from him soon. Very soon.

[punishereditz]

Black Blue And Bloodily

Gif by me

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Nurse!reader

Warnings: 18 plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! Smut. A little bit of blood. Mentions of violence. Praise kink. Praise kink. Strong praise kink. Edging. Overstimulation. Fingering. Breeding kink. Frank being needy. Dirty talk.

AN: This is so much longer than I planned. I promise it gets better. This took me two days to write but it was so worth it.

Summary: Your use to hearing 'Pete' stumbling around next door, but today is different. Today you find him almost dead at your doorstep. Right when you think things couldn't get any more interesting, it does...

~

You huff frustratedly as your keys drop to the floor from trying to get your door open. Your hands full with grocery bags. You look across the hall to see that Pete's door is open. You don't think much of it, shrugging it off. You finally get your door open. Going straight to your kitchen to sit the bags down on the counter. Starting to put everything away.

Once that is all done. You flop down face first on the couch. Sighing in relief of being off of your feet after standing on them for over 12 hours straight with no break.

Your eyes get heavy as the sleepiness starts to wash over you. Somethings off. Your eyes open at the sound of silence. This is weird. Normally when you get off of your night shift, you always hear some type of commotion coming from across the hall. But your greeted with dead silence. It's so quiet that you could hear a fly in the room. You never know what the man is doing. Rather it's long hours and he gets in at the same time as you, or he is bringing woman home. There is always some type of noise. Now there is nothing. You remember that his door was open when you got home. You can't help but start to worry.

You try to brush it off. It's none of your business. You try to go to sleep. Not even worrying about changing or walking down to your room. But the worry keeps you from drifting into sleep you want oh so badly. There's this feeling building in your gut that something is wrong. It's your 'nurse' instinct. Like a power that comes with your job to know when something is even the slightest bit off.

You stand from the couch. Rubbing your eyes. You hear a bang at your door. Your instantly on high alert. Running to your door. When you open the door and look down at your feet. You're greeted with the sight of Pete passed out, covered head to toe in blood. You drop to your knees. Placing his head in your lap. You place your fingers over his pulse. Luckily his heart is beating, but it's not beating fast.

You stand. Grabbing the under of his arms and dragging him into your apartment. You struggle. Swearing the man is made of stone. You somehow get him on your couch.

"Shit," You mumble under your breath to yourself. You quickly start searching his body. Cutting his clothes off. Looking at what injures he has. You try to stop the questions from running through your mind. You have never seen the man without bruises, now he is barely holding onto life on your couch. It makes you wonder what else there is to him.

~

You somehow manage to sort everything out with work. Making sure to stay home in case he wakes up.

You sit at your table looking over some documents. Doing what work you can at home. You notice Frank moving around. Seeing his eyes start to flicker open and his face growing confused with the different surroundings. You quickly move over to him. Putting on a pair of gloves. His eyes meet yours. Looking at you perplexed.

He tries to raise up, but you put a hand to his chest pushing him back down. "Slow your role. You need to rest. No moving around, okay?" His face softens hearing your nurturing voice and he rests his head against his shoulder. He has no idea what happened. He's not sure if he is even alive right now, he swears he has been met with an angel.

"What happened?" He mumbles.

"You were passed out at my door." You explain. Not looking at his eyes that are glued on you. You stay focused on what you're doing of taking care of him.

You finish. Silence growing in between the two of you as you lean back. Sitting at the edge of the coffee table in front of him.

"Why did you help me?" His voice is groggy and low. His eyes have been searching yours since he woke. Like he is compelled by you. In a trance. All his attention on you.

"Why would you say that? I wasn't going to leave you for dead. It's my nature to help." He smally smiles up at you. His hand dangling from the couch. Coming up to rest on your knee.

"You a doctor?"

"ER Nurse." You correct him.

"Do you mind explaining to me why every time I see you, you are black blue and bloodily?" Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you ask the question you're dying to have an answer to.

He hesitates, but he tells you everything. Explaining that his name isn't Pete, but his name is Frank Castle. That he is the punisher, and that he pissed off the wrong people and got out number by about 50 men. He explained a little bit of his past as to how he got here. Only telling what you need to know. Not getting into detail, and you respect that.

Throughout the day, you go about your work. Checking on him every hour. Talking to him when he is awake. Making sure he doesn't do too much. He tells you how he is fine and how he appreciates it, but he doesn't need the help and that he wants to go back to his apartment.

You stand your ground, telling him that he cannot leave until he is well. His injures are to serve for him to just stand back up and walk away. He is hurt enough that he needs to rest for the next three days at least. You two have gone back and forth. You winning the argument every time.

The next four days pass with ease. But you notice that Frank has something on his mind. Like he wants to say something but not saying it. He is hard to read. So, you don't know.

You sigh angrily. One cut on his ribs being stubborn and not wanting to heal right. And of course, it's the biggest cut on him. "This cut... it's not wanting to heal like the others." You say more to yourself then him.

You look when he doesn't respond. Seeing that his eyes are already on you. Your heart skips a beat at his dark eyes boarded on you. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. His lips parted but no words coming out.

"Why doesn't it bother you?" He asks the question he has had on his mind for the past five days.

"I'm a nurse. Remember? I see a lot of things every day." You explain but he shakes his head confusing you.

"No, no, I mean... when I told what I had done. You... didn't seem bothered. I've done terrible things. Awful things and you treat me so... nicely. Why?" He stutters. His hand resting on your knee like every day when you sit in front of him.

"You only kill men, correct?" He nods in response. Watching you carefully, reading you very closely to see if he can find something else that might be there.

"Okay then." You shrug. He looks at you confused.

"That doesn't bother you? What I've done?"

"Well, did they deserve it? Were they terrible men?" He only nods.

You don't say anything. Neither does he. You only look into his eyes. Thinking about how he has you running in circles. The past five days his gaze and cocky remarks have made you flustered. You slap yourself every time he gets to you, trying to pull yourself together. But he seems to pull you back in.

You go to stand, but his hold on your knee stops you. You look at him confused. Seeing his Adams apple bob, his lips parted, and his eyes looking over your body at your scrubs that you're wearing because you had to make a trip to the hospital to sort out a few things early.

His hand moves from your knee up to your lower thigh. Your heart skipping a beat and your breath catching. His touch on your skin smoothing but his eyes say something else as he watches his hand exploring your leg. His gaze lustful on you. His hands keep moving up until he is holding your hip. Lightly squeezing it.

You know you shouldn't. You shouldn't want to kiss him. Your taking care of him. It feels like you're on work hours. Doing this, doing more would feel like breaking the rules. But the heat growing is speaking louder than your thoughts. Your body is talking for you, and you don't like it. Yet, at the same time, it almost feels good to be doing something on the edge. But before you can make any sort of a move, he's doing it for you. Beating you to it. His other hand pulling you down so that he can capture your lips in his.

It surprises you. The sudden move by him. But you quickly relax under his touch. Leaning into the kiss. Your shocked at how soft his lips are. At how gently his hold is. How ruff he is, his whole body scarred, yet his lips are so soft on yours. All the things he's done, his hands are so gently on you. He holds you as if you are a fragile glass piece that could break.

You cup his face. Kissing him softly. You pull away. Your breath heavy. You look at his eyes to him already looking at you, then down to his lips. Seeing how they are pinker and plumber now from where he has kissed you. You know you already pushed it too far. That there is no turning back. So, you kiss him again. This time more needy and not as slowly as before.

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip, and he opens his mouth a little more, letting you slip your tongue in. He moves his hand from the side of your neck to your hip. Holding both of your sides now. He puts you on his lap with ease.

"Frank..." You moan into his mouth. He hums into your lips as a response. He doesn't pull away until you do. "This isn't right. Your hurt. We, we can't do this." You try to control your breathing. Watching him study you.

"It's just a little cut." He tries to kiss you again, but you pull away. You can't believe yourself for allowing yourself to do this. You know better than this. Yes, you want it, but you should have just controlled yourself and not let those stupid beautiful eyes get to you.

"Your hurt. Oh my God..." You mumble. Trying to stand up but he keeps you in place on his lap. His lips coming to yours in hope to stop your nerves.

"Hey, hey, listen to me. I'm alright. Think you can stop nursing for second, huh?" His reassuring words are teasing. Making you laugh. You think about it. At a war with yourself.

"I'm not hurt. Please... you have no idea how long I've wanted this." He tells you after you don't say anything. He brings his lips up to hover over yours. Desperation in his eyes. In his body language as he moves closer to you.

You kiss him. Dragging it out. Keeping his lips on yours. Wanting to never lose the feeling of his kiss. You pull away, "If you start hurting. Even a little bit. We stop. Do you understand? I'll only do this if you promise you'll tell me if you're in pain." Your voice is firm.

"I promise." He kisses you. But instead of kissing your lips, he kisses your neck. Gently placing kisses on you. He stops at your jawline. Starting to suck on the skin. He pulls at your shirt, desperate to see more. Touch more.

You pull away long enough to pull it over your head. Your black laced bra revealed to him. He groans at the sight of you. His cock fully hard now. His hands move up your sides to your back. Unhooking the garment and throwing it to the side. His hands coming up to your breast and his mouth back to your lips. He leans up with you. Sitting up straight against the couch. His hard cock pressed to your clothed pussy. You both moan into each other's mouth. His hands coming up to your pants. Tugging at them. You stand in front of him for him to pull them down. He makes quick work at his pants. Pulling them down, you help. Getting them completely off.

You can't hold back the gasp when you see his size. Seeing how big he is. He pulls you back on his lap. Spraddling your legs around him. Without a word, he has his fingers in-between your folds. His finger quickly finding that sensitive bud. You brace yourself. One hand on his chest and the other on the couch. You can't hold back the moans that escape from your lips.

"Attagirl. So wet," He coos in your ear. Praising you. His finger moving down to your entrance. He pushes one finger in. Watching your face pinch together in pleasure. He keeps pushing until his whole finger is in. He adds another. His two fingers starting to curl and pump in you. You moan his name. Trying to grind your hips into his movement but he holds you still.

He uses his thumb to make circles around your clit. Adding just a little bit of pressure. His fingers curling just right. Between his fingers fucking you and his thumb on your clit, your overwhelmed with pleasure. Never feeling this good.

"That feel goods... doesn't it? My pretty girl." He says just as if he just read your mind. As your climax builds. Seconds away from coming. He stops. Pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth. Sucking your wetness off of his fingers.

"Are you okay?" You ask him with concern in your tone. He laughs at you. Kissing your lips. "Never felt better." He lines his cock up with your entrance. You lower yourself down on him. Taking every inch of him. Slowly filling you up.

He bottoms out. Taking all of his cock. You pull up. Moaning, you move your hips back down. Starting to move on his cock. "Attagirl. Just like that. That's it. Take your time. Uh, fuck, uh, you're doing so good." He holds your lower back. One hand coming up to get a handful of your hair.

His words do something to you. You somehow get wetter. His words playing over in your head. You start to go a little faster. Swirling your hips. He groans. Holding you tighter. He looks down. Watching his cock going in and out of you. He groans again.

Using all his strength to let you do it. Fighting the urge to move your hips with his hands and thrust up into you. Fighting the urge to grab you and flip you over so that he is on top fucking you deeper. He controls himself.

"Frank." You moan his name. Kissing him. Your hands rubbing his abs. Your movement on his cock almost teasing. Your lips moving to kiss his jaw. He moves one hand to hold your side. The other on your throat. Lightly squeezing. He can't take it anymore. He wraps his arm around your waist. Flipping you under him. Laying you on the couch. He holds your legs up to wrap around his waist. Pounding into you. His hips thrusting into yours. The new angle, the sudden change of him taking control makes you moan loudly.

"Uh, goddamn. Uh, sweetheart, you feel so good. Such a good girl." He groans into your neck. His thrusts starting to get sloppy as he starts to get closer to coming undone.

His cock twitches. Hitting that spot in you, making you cum. Moaning his name as your climax crashes over you. Your body tensing and your nails dragging down his back. Your climax, his name on your lips, and your nails in his back sends him into his. Thrusting into you harshly, he fills your pussy up with his come. Moaning your name. Your back arched off the couch, your breasts pressed against his bare chest.

He slows down. Stopping, he lays over you. Shifting his weight so he doesn't crush you. He kisses your salty skin. His hand rubbing your side. Coming up and lacing his fingers in yours. You go to get up to clean, but he doesn't budge. He doesn't let you get up.

"Can we just stay like this? Just for a little bit longer?" He mumbles against your chest. You can't help but laugh. Melting in his hold. Using your free hand to play with his wild hair. You kiss his forehead. Continuing to play with his hair. He purrs against you. Leaning into you. He closes his eyes, and your smile grows. Holding him close to you.

[carousel-crows]

3 please

Hi nonny! Number 3, "I didn't know you guys were together." "We're not."

btw, I tend to ignore the concept of homophobia. let my boys be happy.

———

Ice didn't understand how he had the best roommate and yet the worst co teacher.

Mav had decided to teach at TOPGUN. Ice had taken a position not long after. The previous teacher (callsign Boar) had been all too willing to go into retirement. Ice didn't blame him. Compared to this class, his class had been angels. Mav had agreed. These kids seemed to have forgotten what hygiene was. Being punctual was a foreign concept. 

They had decided it was cheaper to rent a house together than to each have their own apartment. And it worked well. They adhered to each other's boundaries, respecting the other's  property. Mav refilled the coffee machine and packed lunches, Ice opened all the curtains and made sure doors were locked before leaving. They mostly worked the same hours, and rode together often to save gas. Pete was a good roommate in general. 

He was a terrible coworker, though. 

Their teaching tactics were wildly different and often clashed. Maverick encouraged students to create their own maneuvers. Ice tended to stick to the book. Teaching with him was a test of patience. 

But he knew why Mav taught the way he did. He wanted to push these students to be better pilots than they already were. He wanted to protect them in the only way he knew how. 

It had been a particularly rough day. The car had broken down, so they had to take Mav’s bike. Ice was more than reluctant, but it was too far to walk. Ice had realized on his lunch break that he didn't have lunch. 

He'd gone to complain to Mav, or to ask for a ride back. He hadn't really known which. But he'd stepped out of his office and  walked down the hall into Maverick’s.

Now they were sharing lunch in Pete's office. He was sharing lunch with the secret love of his life.

“Who do you think is gonna be the next TOPGUN?”

“Well, Mudslide’s on top right now.”

“Ice, who do you think is going to win?”

“I just said.”

“No, you said who was winning now.”

“We aren't supposed to speculate.”

“Viper does.”

As if on cue, the man himself opens the office door. He was seemingly unaware of Ice's presence. 

“So Mav, for next week’s hop, I think you and Ice—”

Mav barely looks up from his half-sandwich. “Hmm?”

Viper is stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the pair. 

“Uh. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your lunch date. Uh. Sorry.”

“What's up, sir? The hop next week?” Mav completely ignored the awkwardness of the situation.

Date? The word sounded in his head like an alarm.

Mav and Viper carried on the conversation. Ice wasn't listening. Date?

He snapped back to reality. 

“I didn't know you two were together.” 

“We aren't.” Ice panicked.

“Oh. My apologies for assuming.”

“It's fine.”

He looked over to see Mav blushing furiously..

Viper left soon after, tossing a wink at Mav. Ice ate quickly, avoiding any conversation. What? 

Ice avoided him until it was no longer possible. If it weren't for the death machine he was riding home, Ice wouldn't have touched him. No matter how much he wanted to.

Dinner was even more awkward. It was his turn to cook, which was usually fine. 

Except Mav wanted to help. Mav didn't know how to make a lot of dishes, so Ice had offered to teach him. And Mav liked to be involved. 

And he didn't seem to know what personal space is. They're standing almost on top of each other while Mav stirs the sauce. He crowds Ice instead of standing in front of the stove. Ice, in turn, tries to ignore the acceleration of his pulse. He can almost feel Mav smirking. 

The bastard.

“Are you gonna kiss me, Tom?”

“What?”

Mav turned around to look him in the eye. They were standing so close. Nose to nose. If he just leaned a little closer—

“Tom, you can do it. I know you want to.”

“What?” He glanced at Mav's lips, mesmerized.

Mav huffed. “Kiss me, dumbass.” 

So he did. Soft and chaste. A short one. But it was so much. He leans back ever so slightly, just to look Pete in the eyes. His eyes are almost glazed. 

A beat.

Then Mav wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him in. A desperate, hungry kiss. He would never go without Pete's love again.

When Ice went to apologize to Viper for his behavior, the man seemed surprised. “I should be the one apologizing to you, Tom. I overstepped.”

“Well, sir,” Ice rubbed the back of his neck, “We kind of … are together now?”

Viper just laughed. 

“I know, my boy. I could see the tension between you two from the beginning of your class.” He smiled. “But now Slider owes me $20.”

WHAT?

———

hope you like it! Thanks for being so patient!

[zilabee]

Colin Hanton left the Quarry Men because of a gig at the Finch Lane Busmen's Sports and Social Club. It was a club George's dad was a member of, and he he was the one who'd got them the gig. He and George's mum were both in the audience. The Quarry Men went on, played four songs, beautifully, and took their bow. But the curtain didn't close:

"Despite the best efforts of a chap in the wings it refused to move. So instead of us standing on the stage twiddling our thumbs, John announced to the audience that we would do another number while the curtain was fixed. And so we did. [...] As we left the stage the chap working the curtains congratulated us for covering the situation so professionally. The MC also approached and congratulated us, telling us we'd performed really well and that if we wanted to go to the bar there was a pint each waiting for us."

They proceeded to get very drunk.

"Unfortunately we didn't stop at one pint. We had several. George Harrison recalls we were drinking 'black velvets'. [...] We even took drinks with us back to the green room where we continued to have quite a party. As far as I can recall, George abstained after that first beer and remained relatively sober, but in no way did he hold back from some noisy partying. At one stage I remember standing on a chair in the green room singing away at the top of my voice. We were really into it, no holds barred."

What nobody had told Colin was that they were expected to play a second set.

"George was certainly aware we were expected to do so. I can't be certain John and Paul knew, although it seems more than probable they did. Whatever any of us knew or didn't know, somehow, quite drunk and not really capable of playing, we teetered and tumbled back on stage. [...] We were ragged and by the end of the first song John and Paul were finding it hard to focus on performing at all. They were mostly laughing and joking together, lost in their own private world. As a group we were almost oblivious of the audience, completely focused on our in-jokes and stupidity. George had become quiet and acutely embarrassed. [...] In front of an audience we had wowed with our first set, we had no literally fallen apart. To prevent further embarrassment the MC ordered the curtains to be drawn."

The curtain guy and the MC both told them how they'd themselves down, and were politely disappointed in them. But John and Paul continued to find it all hilarious and make jokes. It slowly dawned on Colin that the manager of another venue, the Pivvy, had also attended specially to see them because he'd been interested in booking them for regular gigs at the bingo hall. Obviously he decided not to hire them after all and tried to be polite about it, while Paul and John made jokes about him. Pete Shotton was the one to explain all this to Colin.

"I was angry. What was really getting to me most of all was that, even though by then he wasn't in the group, Pete knew exactly what was going on but I didn't. It really struck home that once again no one had let me know what was happening. They did not seem to care. They just contacted me when they needed me. I felt like the dogsbody, a spare part. It had become the theme of the times."

Paul and John continued joking and cracking up on bus on the way home, putting on stupid voices.

"Once we settled into our seats on the top deck of the bus, unfortunately Paul continued speaking in that silly voice and I continued to let it bother me. By now I was feeling outright anger about the way the evening had panned out and Paul's voice had become the focus for my bad temper. If I had a critic in the group it was Paul, and so, subconsciously, I was probably feeling some anger towards him even before the evening had started. Everything that was irritating me and upsetting me about being in the Quarry Men was now buzzing around inside my head. That whole evening summed up how frustrated I'd become. I wasn't enjoying it anymore. The drink I'd consumed only contributed to my dark mood. I did my best to stay cool, but the more I suppressed it, the worse I felt. In the end, my temper just broke. I snapped. My temper blew and Paul was the unfortunate target of the full fury of my anger. I remember screaming at him, "Shut up, speaking in that stupid bloody voice!" Such was the fury in my voice I frightened myself, so goodness knows how he must have felt. But from that moment I had his full attention. Shock and horror registered on his face, the voice silenced. John and George both looked absolutely startled. I'd stopped them in their tracks too."

At this point Pete grabbed Colin by the arm and told him it was their stop and hurried him off the bus. It wasn't their stop, but it was the end of Colin's Quarry Man days. He simply didn't bother getting back in touch with them, or them with him. He put his drums away and put it all behind him.

Quotes from Pre:fab! by Colin Hanton and Colin Hall.

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 13

This is the second part of yesterday's Day One submission found here:

I'll be updating AO3 next! Enjoy!

#13- Mononucleosis

Peter could have wept with relief when he walked into the apartment. He’d already tossed his keys in the bowl where MJ insisted they all put their house keys and was making his way to the couch when Tony grabbed hold of his shoulder and veered him towards his bedroom.

“Nope. Shower first, then change into your comfiest jammies, kid, remember?”

Peter whined just a little, “But it’s so faaaaar!”

“No it’s noooooot.” Tony whined back. “This is a three bedroom apartment with less than twelve hundred square feet. You’re fine. Now go, kid. You’ll thank me for this later.

“No, I won’t.” Peter pouted and shuffled his way into his bedroom to do as Tony asked.

“Keep it up and I won’t get you any oyster crackers, buddy!” he called out after him...

And so Peter stopped in his tracks, grabbed hold of the door frame and turned around and with a look that burned more intense than the sun, he rasped back, “Yes, you will... because you love me.”

And Tony nodded, “I do—doesn’t mean you’re not irritating, though.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” Peter’s voice grated, and with that witty retort, Peter stuck his tongue out.

“Ugh, kids, so gross...” Tony groaned and pointed to Peter. “Put that thing away. I don’t know where it’s been.” Tony chuckled. “Seriously, Pete. No more talking. Go take your shower and I’ll check the cupboards—maybe find some of May’s tea or something for you.”

Peter just nodded and vanished into his room.

It didn’t take long for Tony to find what he was looking for and within minutes, the kettle was boiled and the lemon tea that May had insisted the three roommates keep stocked in their cupboard in case of cold emergencies was steeping. He had just pulled his phone out to place an order at the nearby deli that Tony had introduced to him the first time they’d visited the campus when Tony heard a rattle of keys at the door.

“Hello?” Tony called out as he stepped into the hall, then stopped short when he saw MJ. “Hey!?”

MJ blinked slow, obviously trying to process the fact that Tony Stark was standing in the entryway to her apartment, then sighed in defeat. “Do I want to know why you’re here?”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender, then smiled sadly, knowing exactly what she was asking. “He’s not hurt,” Tony offered, “Just sick. I promise.

Her entire demeanour shifted, not entirely relaxing with his reassurance, but still. She smiled small and shuffled past him to toss her own keys into the key bowl. “But he’s sick enough that you’re here?” she asked.

“Entirely coincidental, my dear MJ.” Tony put on the schmaltz. “I was in town for some meetings and happened to get an alert that our beloved Peter was not one hundred percent and rushed off to the rescue.”

MJ snort-laughed, “Please tell me you didn’t physically remove him from one of his classes.”

Tony kept up the act, “What?! Moi?! I’d never do something like that, MJ. I’m offended that you’d even imply—”

MJ simply crooked an eyebrow.

“No.” Dang, that girl was good. “He was actually about to give up for the day when I called...” he trailed off as he finally took in her appearance. “And speaking of giving up—are you okay? You’re not usually home this early, are you?”

The sudden shift to concern caught her off guard, but after having known the eccentric billionaire for a couple of years now, she knew he was being sincere in his ask. “Yeah, I’m going to assume that whatever hit Peter has managed to get me to.” She shrugged and made her way to the living room where she planted herself on the couch in exhaustion.

Without a thought, Tony slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a new mug and tea bag, setting it to steep while carrying the readied tea out to MJ. “I’m not sure if you take anything with this, but if you’re feeling anything like Peter, I can go grab the honey for you.”

“Sore throat? Overall feeling of blah?” she asked as she inhaled the tea’s steam.

“Sounds about right,” Tony agreed, sadly, “so, honey?”

“Please.”

And without another word, Tony disappeared and reappeared with the little honey bear and planted it on the coffee table. “I’ve got Peter showering now, but was going to do a deli and a grocery order to make sure you were all stocked up for the next few days. Is there anything that you can think of that you need now that you’re home, or should I go with my original game plan and start rifling through your cupboards?”

MJ waved a tired hand toward the kitchen. “Have at it, Tony. Your name is on the lease, too.”

And it was, but that wasn’t the point. “I’ve always told you that it’s your home...”

MJ took a tentative sip of tea and winced, “Fair, but no, have at it...” MJ glanced up at him, “and thank you.” She cleared her throat, then, “Uh, I’m guessing that Ned will be next on the ‘whatever this is’ hit list, and he has this weird thing about warm pineapple juice when he’s sick, so if you wanted to do the whole pre-emptive shop thing, I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

Tony nodded in agreement. Man, he loved all of these kids. Peter had collected himself an amazing cluster of friends. “Pineapple juice.  Got it.” With that last bit of instruction, Tony left MJ to her misery and disappeared back into the kitchen.

He was just putting the finishing touches on the express grocery order and moving on to the deli’s delivery app when Tony heard Peter shuffling out of his bedroom.

“MJ?” Peter must have been out of it to not notice her arrival, even during his shower. Those spidey senses never took a day off, or so he’d thought.

“Hey, loser, “she replied. “Heard a rumour that we’re both dying.”

“Oof, I hope not,” Peter chuckled back. He must have noticed the tea then because he veered toward the kitchen and Tony, “Oh, I hope really you made one for me, too.”

Tony tapped the ‘Accept’ on the deli order and immediately reached over, ruffling Peter’s hair. “Of course, I did... and just ordered a metric ton of soup for the lot of you. Now go sit down and I’ll bring this out to you.”

Peter didn’t need to be asked twice. While the shower had been good idea, his body was screaming for him to rest, and so he planted himself on the couch with a sigh. “Have I told you you’re my favourite retired superhero lately?”

“Retired?” Tony handed the hot mug to his kid, “I’m concerned that you’ve decided to differentiate between active and not—”

“Really?” Peter reached forward to grab the honey, “’Cuz if you really must know—”

“Apologies for the disruption, Boss.” FRIDAY suddenly chimed in from the watch on Tony’s wrist. “I’ve managed to finally bypass those firewalls and have the information you requested.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Peter, the stinker, “Saved by the bell, young padawan.”

Peter just rolled his eyes and shook his head. “For now... I just wanna know if this is just a bad cold or a flu or what—”

And there was no reason to put it off, “Alright then, FRI, what are we working with here? Do we need to go all ‘hazmat’ on these guys or are we looking at a simple case of campus crud?”

“According to hospital records, it would seem that Jason Russell was admitted to hospital with internal bleeding. He was quickly diagnosed with untreated mononucleosis which led to splenomegaly, an enlarged spleen, which ruptured while he was taking a brisk walk.”

Tony shook his head in disbelief. “The idiot went for a walk?”

But Peter’s jaw dropped. “I have mono?”

And then MJ’s jaw dropped, “You have mono?” Her eyes widened and, in a flash, she was up and pacing, “YOU GAVE ME MONO!? Peter Benjamin Parker! I have exams to study for... and I have to work! What the hell?!”

To say that Tony was perplexed in that exact moment would be an understatement. All of them, Peter, MJ, and Ned were pretty hygienic as a whole so unless Peter had been exposed to some new strain of mono that traveled via a different means than cutlery or kissing—

Tony’s brain blankscreened for a hot second as the realization came to him.  

Tony’s jaw dropped. “Hang on a minute! YOU,” he pointed an accusing finger at Peter, “gave HER mono!” His attention swung back to MJ before he raised his arms in victory, “YES!!” He did a happy dance to end all happy dances, “THIS is why I survived the final snap!  I TOLD May that you guys would get together before Christmas! I told her!”

MJ had stopped her pacing to stand beside Peter, who’d also stood up. “Uh, Tony?” Peter asked tentatively, almost afraid to interrupt, but needing to know, “Are you okay?”

The grin on Tony’s face was brighter than a full-sized arc reactor at night, “Kid, you guys just won me five bucks!”

MJ glared. “Five bucks? But you’re a billionaire. Why the dance?”

“You’re so missing the point!” Tony started to wiggle again, “I was right! May was wrong! Now stop raining on my parade, you grumpy gusses, while I both revel in my awesomeness and call May to rub it in her face—oh. And then Dr. Cho to see if we need to do anything special for you two lovebirds. We don’t want any spleens to rupture or anything!” Tony practically skipped to the kitchen to make his phone call.

Peter and MJ gave up on standing, and simply plunked down together on the couch to process what had just happened.

A few minutes passed before Peter spoke. “I’m sorry that I gave you mono.”

MJ shrugged, “Meh. I’m dating a superhero. I know the risks.”

Peter shook his head and hummed at the absurdity of their lives. “I’m also sorry that this is how our secret came out.”

MJ shrugged again, “Meh,” she gave a playful shove, “I’m also dating Peter Parker. I know the risks.”

Peter smiled softly and closed his eyes to rest and he assumed MJ did the same because it was barely a blink later for the both of them when the sound of keys hitting the bowl at the front door woke them.

“Hey, Tony! This is a surprise!” Ned called out in his normal Ned sorta’ way. “I just intercepted a grocery delivery for the apartment—and there’s pineapple juice! Am I getting sick?”

@sicktember

[theiloveyousong]

hiiiiii um. prompt. the nerds (richie ruth peter) and steph celebrating hanukkah together maybe

hi anon ilyyy! this was soooo fun 2 write <3 might flesh it out and plop it on ao3 tbh. it got away from me

Snow falls in a thin layer outside Hatchetfield High. The middle of December chill seeps in through the windows and doors, overpowering the weak heating and giving everyone an excuse to wear a coat during class. In the third floor Biology Accelerated classroom, Steph leans over and taps Pete on the shoulder. She smiles at him with a bit of nervousness. “Uh, so what if I told you I wasn’t listening to any of what Mrs. Mulberry is saying?”

Pete makes a face at her. “Steph! Come on, we’ve been over this. You have to try to get good grades, they’re not just going to happen!”

Steph grins. “Sooo… if I asked you to come to Pasqualli’s tonight and help me study?”

Pete’s face falls. “I would, Steph, I really want to, but it’s the first night of Chanukah, and Ruth and Richie and I always do something.” He must see the badly concealed disappointment in her face, because he backpedals and adds “But you can come over too, yeah! That would be great, and I’m sure Richie and Ruth would be glad to have you there.”

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Sure, Spankoffski.” Pete chuckles a bit.

When the bell rings out at the end of eighth period, Richie races down the hall to get to his car. He stops in his tracks when he sees Pete and Steph standing by the driver’s side door, Pete with an ashamed expression on his face and Steph leaning against the car making a face at her phone. She looks up at Pete. “Dictator said I’ve been released for a couple hours, so we’re good to go. You wanna ask the ner- Oh. Hi Richie.” She gives him a lazy wave. A couple more drops of sweat drip down Pete’s face. Richie swipes Pete aside.

“You invited Stephanie Lauter to our Chanukah party? Without asking?” he hisses.

Pete smiles a guilty smile. “Yeah? Sorry?”

Richie drops Pete’s shirt and holds his hands up. “Fuckin’ useless, Pete!” He sighs. “Geez, I didn’t know you thought Steph was so kawaii.” Pete’s face turns purple, and he splutters incoherently for a bit before Richie shushes him dramatically. “It’s okay, Peter. I will become your sensei… and educate you on how to talk to your waifus.”

Pete frowns. “Don’t call her that.” Richie mimes pushing up a pair of glasses, and Pete snorts.

Just then, Ruth stumbles out of the front door, fumbling with a huge binder full of sticky tabs and her water bottle. She almost drops the bottle while flipping through the pages of the binder, marked ‘BBQ Monologues Lighting Script - 2020 - Property of Ruth Fleming - Trevor don’t fucking touch this and stop changing your lines!!!!!!’. Pete lunges forward to help her catch it, and she pats him on the back while scribbling down a cue. “Thanks, Pete, sorry, busy!” she rushes out, dumping the pile of things in the backseat with a sigh. She looks up and makes eye contact with Steph, who’s been staring at her for at least thirty seconds. They look at each other. They keep looking at each other. Richie waves a hand in front of Ruth’s face, and her eyes snap back into focus. “Okay! Let’s get this party started!” she yells, grabbing Steph’s hand and pulling her into the crowded backseat. Pete slides into shotgun, and Richie starts the car.

At Pete’s apartment, Ted’s car is nowhere to be found. A menorah balances precariously on the windowsill, visible from the parking lot. The nerds pile out of the car, giggling while walking up the staircase inside the building. Pete jiggles his door handle and it slowly creaks inward. “Oh my God,” he groans, “Ted left the door unlocked again.”

He pulls out his phone and dials a number. It rings for a couple seconds, and then Ted’s voice buzzes out from the speakers with a smug “What’s up, Petey?”

Pete scowls at the screen. “If you keep leaving the front fucking door unlocked all day and there’s a robber here when I get home, I swear I will help them take all your things.”

Ted chuckles over the phone and starts a sentence, but is cut off by the sound of covers shifting and a sleepy voice drawling, “Teddy? Who is that?”

Ted hastily says “Okay talk tomorrow get sleep or whatever love you bye!” and hangs up.

Pete stares dumbfounded at his phone, no longer making noise. ”…What?” He pushes open the door. “So. Latkes.”

–

There’s a hazy buzz in the air as the lightbulbs flicker. Steph is playing with Pete’s hair as he lays in her lap, Ruth and Richie still engaged in a dreidel face off. They both keep spinning נ, and are getting worryingly competitive. “It’s a game of luck, you know,” Pete hollers from his place on the couch.

Ruth yells, “You only think that since you always win!” She spins the dreidel a bit too aggressively, causing it to spin right off the table and land under the couch.

Richie cackles. “Omae wa mou shindeiru! Remember, Ruth, off the table is losing a turn! And now I will swoop in and secure my victory, with…” He grabs another dreidel from the tray and spins it. He lands on a ℷ. Richie jumps up from his seat on the floor. “Hell yes! Richie Lipschitz, the ultimate champion of TopTourney 2020! Take that, Ruth!”

Ruth slaps him on the ankle, stretching out over the worn-out carpet. “That’s only cause Pete didn’t play this year.” She groans, sliding her headgear off and placing it on the table. “I’m fucking starving. Can we eat?”

Pete traipses into the kitchen, yelling commands over his shoulder and tying on an apron with ‘Best Bubbe Ever’ printed on it. Ruth and Richie fan out, Richie shredding potatoes and Ruth searching through the overstuffed fridge to find the old jar of applesauce. Steph just stands in the middle of the kitchen, people swirling around her and scraps of potato peel flying past her into the garbage can. She shakes her head a bit to clear it, and retreats into the living room. Clearly they have some sort of thing going on.

Several minutes later, Pete emerges from the potato-fueled cloud with a plate of perfectly fried latkes. Steph perks up at the table. “The Lord giveth indeed,” Richie cracks as he pours a glass of grape juice. “Kiddush?” They sit around Pete’s cramped kitchen table, all their plates barely fitting. Conversation flows easy as they tear into the latkes. Ruth dumps a heap of sour cream on hers, and Steph swipes a finger through it and throws it at Pete. It splats on the lense of his glasses, dripping down slowly and plopping on his lap. The room goes silent. Pete slowly wipes off his glasses, picks up his cup of water, and splashes it in Steph’s face. Ruth starts giggling uncontrollably.

Later, they’re all gathered around the window of the living room. Pete strikes a match, lights the shamash, and hands it to Ruth. She starts singing the blessings over the candles as she slowly lights the first candle. She has a good voice, clear and genuine. Shame she’s never felt confident enough to really sing. When the candles are lit, Pete reaches out to take Steph’s hand. He shakily starts the Shehecheyanu, voice flickering like the flames of the menorah. Ruth joins in, and Richie follows suit, grabbing Pete and Ruth’s hand. Even when the blessing is done, they stand there watching the flames dance and waver. No one says anything for a while.

–

Pete waves goodbye from his window to Ruth, Richie, and Steph as they schlep boxes of leftovers out to Richie’s car. Steph shifts the box of sufganiyot over to one hand as she waves back with a hesitant grin. Ruth taps her on the shoulder. “Uh, Steph, we’re going to shul tomorrow for Shabbat services, and we’re gonna hang out at Richie’s after. Would you, like, like to come?”

She grimaces nervously, and Steph smiles. “Yeah, I think I’d really like that.”

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Before I Go

Chapter One

AO3 Link

Chapter Five:

Remus makes sure Roman is in his room when Virgil gets there for a multitude of reasons.  Yes, Virgil’s not the biggest fan of him, but more than just that, he also wants a little time with just Virgil and him and Janus, which Roman seems to understand.

So when the knock comes on the door, the two of them are alone in the living room.  Remus hops up instantly, keeping a hand on Janus’ shoulder so he knows Remus is going to get it.  Janus has been fragile all day, and Remus is going to take off his plate what he can.

He pulls the door open and is met with Virgil standing with his hand poised to knock again.  He blinks a couple times when he sees Remus, looking lost.

“Uh,” he says.  “Hi.”

Remus rolls his eyes, reaches out and pulls Virgil into a hug.  “Moron.  Get in here,” he says.

Virgil wraps his arms around Remus and squeezes him tightly.  “I missed you,” he mumbles into Remus’ shoulder.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Shush,” Remus says, pulling Virgil inside the apartment and shutting the door after them.  “Come sit.”

Virgil pulls back from Remus with a small smile, only to stop a second later when he sees Janus.

Janus doesn’t say anything, just looks at him.

Remus groans, grabs Virgil by the arm, and drags him over to the couch after him, then plops him down in between himself and Janus.  “So.  Hi.  How’ve ya been?”

“Uh,” Virgil says.  “Better?  I think?  I… I’m not so scared anymore.”

Remus smiles at him.  “Good,” he says, nudging Virgil in the side.

Janus scoffs and leans back into the couch, and Remus shoots him a look.

“You found a new place to live, right?” Remus asks, and Virgil turns back to him.  “You can stay here if you have to.”

Janus turns to stare at him, and Remus pointedly ignores it.  Like he’s going to let Virgil stay on the streets.

“No, I did, I’m fine,” Virgil says.  “I’m staying with my roommate Logan.”

“Ah, but are you roommates, or are you… roommates?” Remus says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Virgil rolls his eyes.  “We’re roommates,” he says.  “And good friends.”

“Nice,” Remus says with a grin, meaning it.  He’d been worried about Virgil when he left.  He hadn’t been in a good place.

“Oh for pete’s sake, are you two finished?” Janus says, glaring over at both of them.  “You said you came to apologize, didn’t you?  We’re waiting.”

“Janus,” Remus snaps, crossing his arms.

“What?  Why do I have to sit here and listen to this?  I have other things I could be doing!” Janus snaps back, pushing himself up off the couch.  “If you two just want to catch up you can do that without me!”

“Janus,” Remus says, standing, but Janus storms off before Remus can stop him, down the hall and slams their bedroom door after him.

Remus groans and plops down on the couch again.  “Sorry about him,” he says, still glaring off after him.

“It’s okay,” Virgil says.  “I kind of expected him to be angry.  He’s Janus.”

“He’s just… on edge,” Remus mutters.

“I can’t exactly blame him,” Virgil says quietly.

Remus shakes his head.  “It’s new,” he says, turning back to Virgil.  “He was different before I brought Roman here.  I think it’s freaking him out.  We were supposed to ignore it until we couldn’t.”

Virgil snorts.  “Sounds right up his alley.”  He pauses, and looks at Remus for another second.

“I really am sorry,” he says finally.  “I should have just been happy for you guys when you said you were dating.”

Remus shakes his head.  “You were scared,” he says.  “It’s okay.  Besides, people have done much worse to me because they were scared.”

Virgil narrows his eyes, seeming annoyed at the reminder.  “Yeah, where is that prick anyway?”

“In his room.  I’m giving you both a day of reprieve to get used to the idea of each other before I introduce you.”

Virgil tips his head curiously.  “That’s not like you.”

“Yeah, I’ve got more important things to think about than my entertainment,” Remus says, giving an overdramatic sigh as he leans back on the couch.

Virgil’s gaze turns suspicious.  “Like what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Remus says, waving it off like it doesn’t matter.  “Tell me how you met Logan.”

“We met at a bar,” Virgil says.  “He’s crazy smart, Re.  He’s a chemist.”

“A chemist, you say?” Remus says, leaning in towards Virgil and starting to grin.

“No, he cannot show you how to make a bomb.”

“Boo!”

Virgil shakes his head, smiling at him.  It fades a second later into concern though, giving Remus only a second to brace himself before the inevitable questions start.

Sure enough, Virgil pulls his legs up on the couch to turn and face Remus.  “So, how are you?  Janus said you’re about a year along, right?”

Remus nods.  “Honestly, so far the most annoying part is that I can’t laugh without breaking out into coughing,” he says, shrugging like it’s not a big deal.

“Re,” Virgil says.

“Virgil, I have bigger things to worry about,” Remus says.  “Like the fact that you won’t let your badass chemist friend show me how to make a bomb.”

“Remus.”

Remus groans.  “Come on Virgil, I don’t want to talk about it.  The deciding to ignore it until we can’t thing isn’t just for Janus.  I’m not done living yet.  I’ve got more stuff to make and more things to do.  Let me make and do stuff.”

Virgil is quiet for a minute.  “Have you thought about what happens after?” he asks, looking hesitantly at Remus.  “Who gets what, who you want to do the service, how you want to be remembered?”

“Virgil.”

“Do you want me to handle it?”

Remus blinks.  “What?”

“I don’t know what’s been going on with you,” Virgil says.  “And I may not know exactly what you want.  But… I know this priest, Patton.  Who wouldn’t refuse to do a ceremony for you.  It would have to be a secret one, obviously, but he’d do it.  And I can make some choices based on what I know, that you can change if you want as it gets closer to… well.  It… can be an apology.  You know.  For not being here.”

“Hey, no,” Remus says, reaching out and taking Virgil by the shoulders.  “I don’t want you to do that to yourself.  I told you, I forgive you.”

“I’m good with death,” Virgil counters, pulling his hands down.  “I like death.  I can do it.”

“You like horror movies.  That’s very different.”

“Remus,” Virgil says quietly, looking up at him.  “Let me do it.  I want to do something for you.”

“No.  You’ve got something else you can do for me.”

Virgil blinks, seeming caught off guard.  “What?”

…

Virgil left late in the afternoon, and Roman finally came out of his room, only to find Remus alone in the living room, writing something in a notebook.

“Where’s Janus?” he asked.

“He gave up like a little baby,” Remus called.  He didn’t bother to keep his voice down at all, so Roman wasn’t surprised when Janus yelled “Hey!” from the back room.

“You know it’s true!” Remus yelled back, before turning back to his notebook.

Roman glanced down at it to find Remus was writing a poem, which wasn’t something he remembered Remus doing a lot when they were younger.

“What are you making?” he asked hesitantly.

Remus stuck his tongue out for a second, clearly concentrating.  “It’s for Janus,” he said, which was a little hard to parse out since he didn’t stick his tongue back in his mouth.  He stopped suddenly and turned to Roman, and this time he actually did stick his tongue back in his mouth.  “Don’t tell him,” he said, lowering his voice, his face suddenly serious.

Roman nodded.  “Can I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the seat on the other side of Remus.

Remus shrugged and nodded at the seat, so Roman walked around and sat down.

“Hey Re— mus?” Roman added on quickly.

Remus stopped writing for a second.  “You can still call me Re,” he said quietly.

Roman swallowed past the lump in his throat.  “Re,” he said, squeezing his hands together on his lap.  “How did you meet Virgil?”

Remus smiled a little bit.  “He and Janus were the first people I met when I got here.  I snuck into gay bars I was too young for, and met them in one of them.  They were also too young, so we kind of stuck together that night and just… clicked.  Janus’ parents were accepting of him, so he let me crash with him a lot once he learned I didn’t have anywhere to stay.”

“Were accepting of him?” Roman asked hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Remus said, smile falling.  “They died in a wreck just after Janus turned eighteen.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman murmured.

Remus shook his head, but squeezed his eyes shut, and for a moment Roman saw something pass over his face.  He looked terrified.

“Re?” Roman said quietly, reaching out and putting a hand on his arm.  Remus shook him off and shook his head again, though it seemed to be more of him shaking himself.  He opened his eyes and turned back towards the poem he was writing.

Okay, so.  He clearly didn’t want to talk about it.  But Roman didn’t just want to leave him there.

“Remus?” Roman asked hesitantly.  “Can I hug you?”

Remus dropped the pencil and launched himself into Roman’s arms.

Roman wrapped his arms around him and squeezed tightly, and the two of them stayed there for a while.

...

Chapter Six

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, dry humping, violence, threats, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Pete doesn’t get up. You look between him and the archway of the kitchen. You move cautiously into the entryway and near the door. You flip the latch back and open it to the two officers on the other side. 

“Uh, hello,” you greet dumbly.

“We got a call from this unit about an intruder,” the taller one says.

“Yes, yes, he’s in my kitchen,” you sigh, “please, you have to make him leave–”

“Ma’am, does he have a weapon?” The officer asks.

“I…” your eyes round, “I don’t think so. But there’s knives in there.”

“Please, step back, ma’am,” the second officer orders curtly.

You do as they say. Thank god. They’re going to drag that maniac out of here in cuffs. You point through the archway and fade into the plaster. They enter and go into the kitchen.

“Sir,” the first officer greets, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you hear a clink as Pete answers casually.

You cross the hall and peek into the kitchen. He stands at the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the still brewing carafe. Alright, you can see how this appears less than insidious.

“I’m Officer Bodecker, this is Officer Rogers,” the first cop introduces himself, “we got a call about a break-in. Is it alright if we look around?”

“Sure,” Pete shrugs, “as long as I get my coffee. You want some?”

“No, wait, it’s him,” you race forward and throw your hand out, pointing accusingly, “he broke in last night.”

“I’m so sorry, officers,” Pete turns and grips the knot at the top of the towel, “I haven’t had a chance to get dressed. My girlfriend has an appointment today,” he points to the fridge calendar, “she’s on a lot of meds and she gets like this. You can check the cupboard.”

“N-no, no, I’m not lying. This guy, I don’t know him–”

“Really, I’m so embarrassed,” Pete talks over you, “I was in the shower when she called. It’s been rough. She’s under a lot of stress. And her treatments are so expensive–”

“Shut up!” You cry out, “please, please, don’t listen to him.” You step between the officers and turn on them, “can you please just get him out?”

“Christ,” the pudgier officer, Bodecker rolls his eyes and looks at the other. They exchange a scoff and shake their heads, “look, ma’am, a false report is not something we take lightly.”

“Another fine,” Pete mutters, “I’ll have to pick up some hours again–”

“Well, we can leave it be just this one time,” Rogers offers, “considering… we’re not entirely heartless, you know?”

“I swear, this isn’t–”

Pete startles you as he steps up and puts his arm over your shoulders, “shush, honey, it’s okay. Just calm down.”

You tremble as your head spins. How do they believe him? They need to listen to you. This is your apartment. He doesn’t belong here.

“No, n–”

“Look, it’s so nice of you to let it go,” Pete continues, “I’m really sorry you came all the way out here. This is so embarrassing. I’ll take care of her. She won’t bother you again.”

“Make sure of it,” Bodecker tuts.

“Please, officers,” your voice cracks.

“Let’s go, we’re just upsetting her,” Rogers grumbles, “ma’am, I hope you feel better.”

The officers turn and you go to follow them. Pete grabs the back of your neck and pinches, keeping you in place. You hiss and he shushes you as the police file out the front door. As the door shuts, he turns his head and leans in.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?” He growls.

“Ow, let go– get off of me! Get out of my apartment! Get out of my life–” You twist away and try to shove him off. He keeps his hand on you, his other coming up to your throat as he backs you against the counter.

“I’m going to have to teach you a real lesson. Last night… that was nothing. You’ve really done it now,” he pushes until you bend backwards. He grabs the coffee pot off the machine and holds it close to your cheek so you can feel the heat, “you think anyone will want you with that pretty face all marked up?”

“Stop,” you beg, grasping at his wrist.

“We coulda been nice, sweetheart. I was being real fucking nice. I’m just trying to take care of you,” he moves the pot and tips it over your chest. It splashes onto your skin and scalds down beneath your shirt. “You need to stop being so goddamn careless.”

He flips it straight and slams it back down. You whine and whimper as your nails drag down his arm. He lets you go and you fold onto the floor. He grabs his cup of coffee and stomps back to the table.

“Too bad you won’t make it to your appointment, sweetheart.”

“Please, I can’t–”

“Shoulda thought of that first,” he sits and slurps his coffee loudly, “I wanna take care of you, but you gotta let me.”

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Prompt idea sticking with the Saint Patrick's Day theme...

Harry(raimi) walks into Peter 1, 2, and 3 having their Saint Patrick's Day tickle fight, they turn and simultaneously look at him like "you're not wearing green" and it becomes a huge tickle pile with Harry being the main lee! I love those 4 together❤ Hope you like this prompt!

I feel like they will all be the lees and the lers!

Luck of the Irish

Sumary: See prompt above :)

(Ahhh! I love this so much ❤️ they are all such great tickle monsters 😭 ❤️ thank you so much Anon! Enjoy :))

Harry perked up. He had heard what sounded like a squeal come from within Otto's apartment. He knew the three Peters were house sitting while the older man was out, but he hadn't heard anything from them in the last hour.

Harry shrugged when no other sound followed. "Must be hearing things."

Suddenly, another squeal, this time much louder, reached his ears.

"What's going on in there?" Harry muttered to himself as he stood.

He crossed the room to Otto's apartment door. When he opened it and peeked his head inside, he didn't see anyone at first.

"Coming through!"

Harry turned just in time to pull the door closer to him.

Peter 3 zoomed through the space a moment later. "Where are you!"

Once the way was clear again, Harry peeked around the door before stepping completely inside the apartment. He cautiously closed the door to the lab before stepping into the living room.

It was complete chaos.

The coffee table and extra chairs were pushed in front of the TV stand while the couch cushions were stacked to the side. Meanwhile, Peter 3 was moving the curtains around near the windows.

"What is going on in here?"

The tallest Spiderman whirled around. "Have you seen a short adorable blue-eyed man anywhere?"

"Not short you jerk!"

"You're a short king Two!" Peter 3 exclaimed as he ran off in the direction of the voice. "Now come here!"

Two sets of pounding footsteps took off down the hall.

Harry took a couple steps back to watch them both run off. "Sheesh! What's in them?"

"You're telling me."

Harry turned back to the living room to see a small head peeking out from behind the couch. "Don't worry Pete, thehey're gone."

The youngest's eyes widened.

"You okay?"

One shook his head as he pulled himself out. "I'm fine, just needed a breather."

"What is even going on?"

One sat on the top of the couch. "It's a celebration."

"A celebration?"

"Yeah!"

Harry sat down on the edge of the couch. "What are you celebrating?"

The youngest's brows furrowed together. "Do you not know what day it is today?"

Harry shrugged. "Friday."

One shook his head as he moved to sit on the couch. "Not what I meant."

"I don't keep up with birthdays that well."

"Harry, it's March."

"March the Fourth be with you?"

Peter 1 pressed a hand to his forehead. "That's in May."

"Then what is it?"

"It's March 17th."

Both whirled around to see Peter 2 and 3 standing in the living room.

"Oh, Happy Saint . . . Patrick's Day?"

As Harry gave his greeting, Peter 1 started backing toward the arm of the couch as nervous giggles streamed out of his mouth.

Harry shifted so he was in front of Peter 1. "What's so special about March 17th?"

Peter 2 moved to sit beside Harry. "Remember? St. Patty's Day is associated with a special color."

"And?"

A hand squeezed his shoulder. "Ihif yohou don't wear thehe color, yohou gehet tickled."

A memory tickled at the back of Harry's mind. He had heard the three others talk about these plans last week, but had forgotten about it.

Peter 3 stepped closer. "Ahand who wohould like to goho first?"

One squeaked again.

"You don't have to if you don't want to Pete," Harry reminded as he peeked over his shoulder.

One nodded. "Ihi knohow."

"Too much at once?" Peter 2 asked gently.

One shook his head as a wobbly grin overtook his face.

"You sure?" Harry double checked.

Peter 1 nodded again.

Peter 2 and 3 nodded back with matching smiles on their faces.

Meanwhile, Harry finally relaxed and moved back out of the way.

Peter 3 smirked. "For two people who claim to be so smart, you sure chose the wrong day to not wear green."

The light finally clicked on for Harry. He realized a moment to late what he had been roped into.

Peter 2 smirked at his friend. "Oho, thihis will be gohood."

Harry backed up a little. "Watch it itsy bitsy!"

Two scooted closer. "Whahat arhare you going to doho about ihit hm?"

Both sides stared each other down for a moment.

Then Two and Three pounced.

Peter 2 pined Harry while Three pinned Peter 1.

Harry stared at Two. "Peter!"

Peter Two giggled. "Ihit's thehe luck of thehe Irish."

Harry squawked as Peter 2 dug into his sides. "Peheter!"

"Gootchie goo!"

On Harry's left, a steam of loud cackles caught his attention. While Two had attacked Harry's side, Three had attacked One's ribs.

"Ahh gootchie gootchie goo baby brother!"

"NAAAH! THREHEE!"

Two's chuckle recaught Harry's attention.

The oldest Peter smiled. "You wahant what he's havihing?"

Harry growled. "Do ahand dihie itsyhy bitsyhy!"

Two wiggled his fingers. "I'll tahake my chancehes."

Harry bucked and squealed as Peter 2 dug into his ribs. "NAHA! YOHOU JEHERK!"

"Wohow! Yohour ribs are almost ahas bad as Uno's."

"Yohou're rihibs ahare bahad tohoo!" One exclaimed.

Two turned to the youngest. "Buhut not ahas bad as yoHOOOU!"

While Two was distracted, Harry managed to get his feet planted. He thrusted his hips forward and sent Peter 2 tumbling to the floor. The taller man then jumped on top of his smaller friend.

Peter 2's eyes widened. "Oh no!"

"Never should have told mehe you like tickles Peheter." Harry then dug into Peter 2's ribs. "You knehew I'd gehet you back!"

"AHHH! NOHOT THEHERE!"

"Aww what's wrong itsy bitsy? Got sensitive ribs?"

"YOU KNOW IHI DOOO!"

"Hmm, should I sing you your favorite song?" Harry placed both hands on Two's bottom most ribs.

"Noho! Wahait!"

Before Harry could start singing, he was tackled to the floor. One figure landed on his waist and another pinned his arms in a full nelson behind his head.

"Wow! What are you two doing!"

Peter 1 giggled at him. "Sohrryhy Harryhy, we wahant a tuhurn!"

Three readjusted his hold. "We don't gehet to hear yohour giggles very often!"

Peter 2 joined his brothers by pinning Harry's ankles in a headlock. "Hehe's gohot the best ohones."

Harry blushed. "Shuhut uhup!"

Peter 1 turned to Peter 2. "What sohong was hehe going toho sihing Twoho?"

"Itsy bitsy spider," the oldest muttered.

The youngest grinned. "Thank yohou!"

Harry watched One turn around and pull his suit jacket aside so he could easily access his ribs. He then rested his fingers on Harry's bottom most ribs.

"One! Ihi protectehed yohou!"

"Ihi knohow, and Ihi appreciate ihit. But I wanna hehear yohou lahaugh more!"

The youngest Peter began spidering his fingers up his older friend's ribs. "Thehe itsy bitsy spider climbed uhup thehe water spout."

"AHH! OHONE!"

Peter 1 jumped his hands down to Harry's hips. "Down came the rain and washed the spider out."

"Eep!"

Peter 2 reached forward to boop Harry's nose. "Out came the sun ahand dried up all the rahain."

"Wahatch it."

All three Peters sang together as they each tickled a different spot. "And the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again."

Harry was currently in stitches. Peter 1 was tickling his ribs, Peter 2 was rotating between his feet and knees, and Peter 3 was using one hand to attack his armpits.

Sure he had been tickled back by Peter 2 and occasionally roped into a tickle fight between Otto and Peter, but he hadn't had three people tickling him at once. While he was having a blast, he was tiring pretty quick.

Thankfully, his three ticklers quickly picked up on the cues and let him go.

Harry curled into a ball. "Whehehew."

"You good Harry?" Peter 2 asked.

"Yehes, juhust give me aha minute." Harry took a deep breath. "Ihi've nehever been tickled byhy three peheople before."

"Luck of the Irish strikes again."

Harry's arms shot up and grabbed the first Peter he could and pulled him on top of him. A moment later he was smirking at Peter 3 before he dug into his armpits.

"AHHH! HARRYHY!"

"Luhuck of thehe Irish strikes agahain!" The older man teased. "Get him boys!"

Both Peter 1 and 2 smirked. Three had gotten both of them too so it seemed only fair. They scrambled over to help Harry tickle the tallest Peter to bits.

After they were finished, Harry playfully ruffled Three's hair and then let him go. "Come ohon you three, lehet's get Otto's living rohoom back in order."

Each member of the group stood except for Peter 3.

Peter 2 poked his side. "You tohoo lazy bones."

"Okahay, okahay, I'm cohoming," Peter 3 replied as he stood to his feet.

By working together, the group of four had the living room together in a matter of minutes. Once they were done, they all collapsed back onto the floor to rest.

"Hahappy Saint Patrick's Day guhuys," Three exclaimed.

"Mhm."

"You too."

"Ditto."

The small agreement mutually confirmed it. This was a great Saint Patrick's Day.

[hummingbird-of-light]

Against All Odds

Part 717

McCoy

“Hey! Where’s Scotty?”

McCoy stood at the edge of the pool, waiting his turn in the relay practices. He glanced behind at Aaron.

“He had something important.”

“Must be important,” Jim said over his shoulder in front of McCoy. “He hasn’t missed an opportunity to ogle you at practice since you two got together.”

McCoy didn’t answer. He’d slept miserably the night before. Everything they had been through; kidnapping, torture, lies, and an interview was what might tear them apart. McCoy’s chest had ached with the thought all day. Scotty had said they weren’t breaking up, but tension had been there between them every time they met that day.

Jim dove in the pool in front of him and McCoy moved forward. He wanted to be in the water. He wanted to swim laps until his body and his brain were exhausted. He didn’t want to think anymore. A tear slipped at the corner of his eye and he brushed it away.

He glanced at the girl’s line a couple lanes over. Jocelyn was no longer in it. Father had said she would not share classes or activities with him. He was glad she wasn’t in the pool hall. Anger filled his stomach, and his fingers twitched. The thought of pushing her in the water and holding her down crossed his mind and he gave a quiet gasp.

Jim slapped the edge, and Aaron gave McCoy a gentle nudge. It was his turn. McCoy dove in the water still in shock at himself. How much had she messed everything up around him that his own mind would produce such an idea. Even in the cool water of the pool his face and eyes burned with shame.

Standing behind Jim again McCoy only hoped the sudden tears on his face would be mistaken for water dripping from his hair.

He was slow in the locker room after practice. The pool had not settled his thoughts and worries and honestly he just wanted to be home on Georgiares in his own familiar pool.

He couldn’t make himself move faster either. He was desperate to see Scotty, to hold him, hear how Francine was. But he was scared too, and that almost made him feel sick.

Finally he was the last one in the room as he pulled his shoes on. He couldn’t waste anymore time. Outside the locker room he was surprised to see Aaron waiting.

“Hey,” Aaron said.

McCoy quirked an eyebrow. Aaron sounded nervous.

“Hey.”

Aaron began to walk with him.

“So, umm, with everything that’s happened, with uhh, Denise…”

McCoy glanced over and saw Aaron coloring. He didn’t say anything, just let the other boy find his words. Aaron rubbed a hand over his face before continuing.

“That’s- that’s something I would have been impressed by. Before you came. Before you gave me a second chance.”

“Oh.”

“I’d like to think I’ve changed and grown, but there’s some stuff…” Aaron gave his head a shake. “Scotty… he’s not as forgiving as you, is he?”

McCoy frowned. The thought that had gone through his head early popped back up and a shudder went down his spine. Aaron hadn’t been malicious to him during the pool incident like Jocelyn had been the whole time.

“Depends,” McCoy said carefully.

“I- I haven’t been nice to him in the past. It- I was unfair. A lot of us were. We- we didn’t want the school to have people like him and Robbie and we made them as miserable as we could.”

McCoy stopped walking and turned to look fully at Aaron. The other boy was staring at the ground.

“I see now what an asshole I was. It took you treating me fairly and Pete continuing this shit with Jocelyn to see clearly.”

Aaron looked back up, and the anger McCoy felt beginning slipped a little.

“I don’t expect him or Robbie to forgive me; or you, but I am really sorry for everything. And I had to say it. It’s not a surprise Denise thought that would impress me.”

“I—” McCoy didn’t know what to say. A memory came to him. When he’d first met Scotty. His fiancé had worried about showing him the school for fear of what other students would think.

“It’s alright Leonard. You don’t have to say anything, but I needed to.” Aaron began walking again, and was out the door before McCoy could even turn.

Dinner was quiet. McCoy was still lost in his thoughts.

“How’s Francine?” he asked Scotty idly at dinner.

“Good. She sends her love.”

“Good.”

They skipped the lounge. McCoy wanted to know what Francine had to say, but he had something more important to ask first. He sat carefully on the bed, allowing room for Scotty to sit by him if he wanted.

“Scotty, what was it like when you first came here? What happened?”

He watched as Scotty’s face looked puzzled.

“How- how did Aaron and Pete and the others really treat you?”

Part 718

Scotty

"Halò a mhàthair," Scotty greeted his mother as soon as her face appeared on-screen. She looked very exhausted, but there was also a gentle smile on her lips as she rubbed a hand across her face.

"Hello, sweetheart. I'm so sorry I didn't write to or call ye properly yet. Work's a lot at the moment. I really meant to call ye and Leonard though."

Scotty's heart sank. His mother must have read the articles. After all, the rumors had been spread all across the universe.

"It's... it's okay, mum. I understand."

"I cannae believe what these horrible people are writing about Leonard. He is such a good lad! Everyone knows that he would never hurt ye!"

Scotty nodded slowly at that. He knew that his mother and grandfather would never believe a word written in these articles for one second.

"Is he okay? Are ye okay?"

The Scotsman couldn't control the tears as they broke free and streamed down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand.

"Uhm... not really, nae."

The moment the words were out, Scotty could see concern wash over Francine's face. She stared at him in shock, eyes wide.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Monty. What's going on? Is... is there anything I can do for ye? Both of ye?"

Scotty sighed. He had known that his mother would ask that question. After all, she was always so caring. She loved her sons very much. Not just the ones related by blood, but also the one related by love.

"Uhm... we know who's responsible for all these lies and articles. And... there'll be new articles to come, revealing the false stories as the lies they are..."

Francine nodded understandingly.

"I see. Was it that girl that harrassed Leonard?"

Scotty swallowed and gave his mother a nod.

"Aye, but... not only her. Ye... ye will get to read the articles soon. But there's... another thing..."

Francine furrowed her brows in confusion and worry.

"What is it, Monty?"

The next words didn't come out as easy as Scotty had expected them to. He was fidgeting with his fingers and stared at the ground.

"The king... said... that there'll be interviews. People need to... to see the truth. And... I shall give an interview to clear Leonard's name. A-alone."

The thought was still as horrible as the first time David had talked to them about it. It made his stomach twist and turn.

"Monty-"

"I cannae do it! I cannae give an interview for all the universe to see! I- I'm no prince! I'm not even royal!"

The tears came even faster by now and Scotty had trouble controlling his breath. Only when he heard the soothing voice of his mother he came down.

"Monty, shhh, hey, look at me. Look at me."

Slowly, he raised his head to look into his mother's face. Francine sent him a comforting smile.

"It's gonna be okay. Ye'll be just fine."

He didn't find any words, just stared at his mother.

"I... I n-need someone a-at my side," he got out, in between sobs and Francine nodded.

"I know, Monty, I know. And I'll be there, if ye want me to."

She knew it. Francine could see right into her son's head. She knew what he'd ask her. And apparently she also knew that there was only one answer he needed to hear.

"I know that ye are out of age. But... ye're still my baby. And I will never leave ye to do this on yer own."

A grateful nod. It was all Scotty managed to give her. He was at a loss for words.

"So, hush now. Stop yer crying. It's all gonna be just fine."

They talked a little longer about everything that had happened and about what was still going to happen, but eventually Scotty needed to get downstairs for dinner. Francine told him to say hi back to Leonard and then he got going.

Scotty knew that it would still be hard, but at least, he felt a little better now, knowing that his mother would be with him.

"How- how did Aaron and Pete and the others really treat you?"

He was caught off guard by Leonard's sudden question. Had something happened during swim practice?

"Oh, uhm... that's... it's a long story..." Scotty muttered and slowly moved over to sit down next to his fiancé.

"I want to hear it... please."

One look into Leonard's eyes told Scotty that his love really needed to hear about it.

He sighed. Maybe it was time to tell Leonard about it.

"Well... it... it started with some insults when Robbie and I joined school. They called us names and told mean rumors about us. But then... things got worse."

He told Leonard everything. About the almost daily pranks.

Glue in their shampoo. Laxative in their tea. Or that one time when Scotty, Robbie and the others had spent time at the lake in swimming trunks and Aaron and the others had stolen their clothes. It had been horrible years.

"They tried everything to scare us away. They made our lives a living hell. But... we stayed. We didn't give in. Thanks to our friends."

Aaron, Pete - they had all been bastards. And Scotty knew that he could never forgive them. Not because of what they had done to him, but Robbie too.