#peter is just peter. he only knows how to eat hot chip and lie. he cannot fix a video game console to save his life

[spenglerposting]

Idk how to describe it but if you do a modern retelling of Ghostbusters at least one of those mfers needs to be working at a small ma and pa retro gaming store. It could be Egon, Peter, or Winston (not Ray though he’s got Ray’s Occult and we love to support a fellow small business owner) but at least one of those three needs to be working at a retro gaming store. Personally I’m rooting for Winston.

[marvelous-writer]

i’ll chase away your nightmares and keep you safe

Summary:

Tony looks at him with a worried frown as he hands him a plate with a sandwich and a side of chips. He reaches a hand up and brushes a few stray curls off of Peter’s aching forehead. “You don’t look too good, Pete,” he says.

“I don’t feel that great,” Peter admits, not having the energy to pretend that he is.

“How’s your head feeling?”

“Hurts,” Peter mumbles miserably.

“Hmm,” Tony hums, as he braces his hand against Peter’s forehead.

Peter lets his eyes slip shut as he leans into his cool hand, bringing only a small amount of relief to his pounding head. He almost wants to cry when Tony takes his hand away.

“You do feel a little warm. I wouldn’t have had you slaving away out there in the sun if I’d known you didn’t feel good, Pete.”

“It wasn’t this bad earlier. I think I’m just tired or my brain is fried,”

OR

Peter experiences a bad migraine while he’s staying up at the cabin and Tony helps him through it.

Word count: 3,159

Genre: whump, angst, hurt/comfort

Link to read on Ao3:

A/N: Part 3 of @webpril

Peter squints against the harsh sunlight as he wipes sweat off his forehead, trying to ignore the pain pounding away in his head. 

“Hand me that wrench, will you?” Tony asks from his position kneeling on the grass in front of the pressure washer that had broken down as they started to power wash the house.

Peter nods as he reaches into the red toolbox and grabs said wrench and hands it to Tony. “What do you think? Is it going to make it?” He asks with a hint of sarcasm. 

“Well,” Tony says with a grunt as he tightens a bolt on the machine. “I think she has a few more good years left in her.” He says, shooting a smile over his shoulder at Peter. 

Peter smiles in return, trying not to wince when his head lets off a particularly sharp throb. He’s had this killer headache since he woke up this morning but it hasn’t been this bad until now. Sitting out here in the middle of a heatwave in the sun probably isn’t a wise decision on his part. He’d rather be inside where the cool AC is, sprawled out on his bed in the dark, sleeping this off. But he’d never say no to spending time with Tony, even if it involves a mundane task of fixing a pressure washer. 

“So… I was thinking—” Tony says as he hands Peter the wrench back when he’s done using it. 

“That can be dangerous,” Peter says. 

Tony huffs out a laugh as he shoots a grin over his shoulder at Peter. “Like son like father, I guess.” He says. 

A warm and fuzzy feeling bubbles up in Peter’s chest at his words as he smiles, ducking his head down as he puts the wrench back in the toolbox. “What were you thinking?”  

“I was thinking… what if I made some fettuccine Alfredo for dinner tonight, get some ice cream at your favorite place down the street, and we can have a nice, relaxing family movie night?” Tony asks as he wipes his oily hands on a hand towel, standing up from the ground with a small grunt when his knees click in protest. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Peter says with a smile as he pushes himself up from the ground, only to pause when his head gives off a particularly sharp throb from the new position. He reaches up and rubs at his forehead, hissing slightly though gritted teeth. 

This always happens when he tries to work through the pain of a headache, which hopefully isn’t upgrading to a migraine but with Peter’s luck, it probably is. 

And of course, Tony’s dad senses tingle. 

“You okay?” Tony asks, looking at Peter with his brows pulled together in concern. 

“Yeah… just a headache.”

Tony’s still frowning as he looks down at his watch to check the time. “It’s a little after noontime, so how about we head on inside and I’ll whip you up a sandwich for lunch.” 

“Sure.” Peter agrees easily, letting Tony guide him inside the blissfully cool house and out of the intense sun and heat. 

They find Morgan sitting on the couch in front of the tv watching one of her cartoons, one that Peter doesn’t know because it came out sometime in those five years during the Blip. 

“How about you sit with Morgan while I get lunch started?” Tony suggests. 

“Okay,” 

Peter slips his shoes off at the front door before he walks over to the couch, wincing at the sunlight pouring in from the windows, mixed with the obnoxiously bright colors from the cartoon on the tv. He plops down on the chaise section of the couch next to Morgan and throws a pillow over his face to shield himself from the light. 

“Are you okay, Petey?” Morgan questions. 

“Yup…” Peter mumbles beneath the pillows. “M’ all good, Morgs.” 

“Why are you hiding?”

“M’ not hiding. Just trying to sleep and the light’s bothering my eyes.” He tells her. 

“Does your head hurt like Daddy’s does sometimes?” She asks. 

“A little.” 

“Oh! I’m sorry.” Morgan whispers.

“S’okay.” Peter mumbles. 

 It takes only a few minutes before Peter feels himself drifting off to the soft murmurs coming from the tv, but he can’t quite fall asleep with his head pounding away. It almost makes him want to cry at the unfairness of it all—why his brain just won’t shut off and let him fall into a pit of painless nothingness.

He’s taken out of his almost-asleep state by a hand gently shaking his shoulder. “Pete, you awake? Lunch is all ready.” Tony says in a soft voice. 

“Mhmm…” Peter hums as he slowly sits up, letting the pillows fall away from his face, finding the room’s curtains to be drawn with the tv off, settling the space in a soothing semi-darkness. 

Tony looks at him with a worried frown as he hands him a plate with a sandwich and a side of chips. He reaches a hand up and brushes a few stray curls off of Peter’s aching forehead. “You don’t look too good, Pete,” he says. 

“I don’t feel that great,” Peter admits, not having the energy to pretend that he is. 

“How’s your head feeling?” 

“Hurts,” Peter mumbles miserably.  

“Hmm,” Tony hums, as he braces his hand against Peter’s forehead. 

Peter lets his eyes slip shut as he leans into his cool hand, bringing only a small amount of relief to his pounding head. He almost wants to cry when Tony takes his hand away. 

“You do feel a little warm. I wouldn’t have had you slaving away out there in the sun if I’d known you didn’t feel good, Pete.”

“It wasn’t this bad earlier. I think I’m just tired or my brain is fried,” 

Tony huffs out a small laugh. “Your brain isn’t fried, Pete. You’re just tired and you’ve been overworking yourself lately. How about you eat what you can and you can nap until dinner?” 

Sleep. That sounds pretty nice right about now. 

“Okay.” Peter agrees easily. 

…

After lunch, Tony helps Peter upstairs to his bedroom and draws the black-out curtains, engulfing the room into darkness, much to Peter’s relief. 

Peter is about to lie down but Tony stops him by handing him one of his pain meds. 

“But they make me feel weird and loopy,” Peter argues weakly. 

“I know you don’t like taking them, but it’ll help with the pain,” Tony says. 

Peter sighs but takes the pill anyways just to please him, swallowing it down with a few sips of water from the cup Tony gives him. 

When Peter is lying down on his side with his eyes closed, he hears Tony walk out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom before the sink turns on, until footsteps approach his room. 

Peter breathes out a relieved sigh when he feels a cool, wet washcloth being placed over his eyes and forehead. 

“Better?” Tony asks as Peter feels the bed dip down next to his hip. 

“Mhmm…” Peter hums, feeling the coolness take the edge off his headache so it no longer feels like his head is at risk of exploding from the pressure. “You gonna stay?” He asks hopefully. 

“Sure thing, kiddo,” Tony says, hearing him get up again before the bed dips down beside him until he feels the man’s hand card through his curls. 

The feeling soothes Peter as he breathes out another sigh of relief as he allows himself to relax, feeling the tension leave his body. 

It only takes a few moments before Peter finds himself drifting off to sleep, feeling the pain grows duller as his consciousness fades away. 

…

Peter can’t breathe as dust begins to fill his lungs. 

He looks up with wide, tear-filled eyes at Tony, who’s standing several feet away from him, looking equally as scared as Peter.

“I don’t wanna go,” he pleads, voice wobbling as he takes a few stumbling steps towards him. “P-Please—P-Please, I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go.” 

Tony opens his arms as Peter falls forward, but instead of falling into Tony’s arms, he falls right through him as Tony suddenly crumbles to nothing but a pile of ashes. 

“N-No!” Peter screams as catches himself on his shaking arms, saving himself from face-planting on the orange, dirt-covered ground… which is now covered in Tony’s ashes. “N-No…. p-please,” Peter sobs as he carefully picks up a handful of it, only to break out into a harsh cough that has him doubled over, finding that he’s coughing up dust. 

Ashes. 

That’s all he sees. 

Ashes. 

Peter blinks away the tears in his eyes as he looks around himself, seeing figures of ashes floating in the air where the Guardians and Dr. Strange once stood. 

He’s all alone. 

Peter takes in a shuddering breath as he looks back down at himself, only to see that his hands are now disappearing, dust falling from his fingertips, joining Tony’s on the ground. It quickly travels up his hands, then his forearms, climbing up his entire body. 

Peter sucks in a gasp, feeling like his insides are now full with his own ashes, suffocating him. 

He’s dying. 

He’s all alone. 

Ashes. 

Ashes. 

They all fall down. 

Ashes. 

Ashes. 

Ashes. 

They all… fall… down. 

Peter’s eyes snap open, only to be met with a horrible, pulsating pain radiating through his skull, feeling like it’s about to explode as something hot shoots up his throat. 

Peter shoots up into a sitting position as he gags, only for more waves of sharp pain to stab at his head as he tries to get up. But the moment that he manages to swing his legs over the bed, he gags again and hot, liquidy vomit spews out of his mouth, landing all over his lap and the floor. 

But the only thing he can see is ashes. 

Peter gasps in the middle of a gag, only to break out into a harsh round of coughing but it only brings back the memory of him coughing up dust in his nightmare… or was it real? Is he already dead and this is a dream? Or his worst nightmare that he’ll have to live again and again in a constant, torturous loop?

His head and ears are pounding too much, Peter doesn’t hear the pair of footsteps running up the stairs towards his bedroom. 

Peter slams his eyes shut as he coughs up more bile—more ashes. 

His ashes. 

It’s happening again. 

Thanos snapped.

Half the universe is gone. 

Thanos won and they lost. 

“Peter! Peter—look at me, kid!” A voice filters its way through the sheer panic racing through him, mixing with all the pain. “Pete—open your eyes for me!” 

Peter snaps his eyes open, only to find Tony’s worried face in front of him—but it’s just like before, except Tony turned to ashes right in front of him. 

“T-Tony p-please,” Peter hoarsely says, feeling something cold slide down his cheeks. “P-Please—I-I don’t wanna go. P-Please,” he begs as he slams his eyes shut, unable to get the image of Tony crumbling to nothing in front of him. 

His breathing comes in quick gasps now, and it feels like his insides are filling up again—oh God. It’s happening again. He’s going to die and there isn’t anything or anyone that can stop it. Thanos won again—he’s always going to win. He’s never going to stop coming. 

Peter’s dying all over again. 

“Pete—you’re okay. Peter! You’re not dying—kiddo, please listen to me!” 

He’s going to die. 

Ashes. 

Ashes. 

Peter lets out a choked sob, only to throw up more bile. “I-I can’t-” he sucks in a sharp, choked breath. “Can’t breathe-”

Black dots dance around in his vision as he opens his eyes, finding a blurry figure in front of him, feeling cold hands on his face. 

“Pete you’ve gotta listen to me, bud. You have to breathe.” 

“I c-can’t,” Peter chokes out around a sob, squeezing his eyes shut again. “I-I can’t—I c-can’t!” 

“Yes, you can. You can breathe. You’re not going anywhere. I promise you, Pete. Please. Come back to me. Try to take in a deep breath, okay? Think you can do that for me, kiddo?” 

Peter sucks in a gasping breath, feeling horribly lightheaded now, but he tries. 

“That’s it, Pete. That’s it, kiddo. In and out.” Tony soothes. 

It feels like forever until Peter’s lungs give in, letting air in and allowing him to breathe. He sucks in a shaky breath that triggers a harsh round of coughing, before he opens his eyes and blinks a few times to clear his blurry vision. 

“T-Tony?” Peter asks, seeing the man kneeling in front of him with a worried expression on his face. 

“I’m right here, Pete,” Tony tells him in a soft voice. “You back with me?” 

Peter blinks, his brows pulling together as he shakily nods. He closes his eyes against the pounding behind them, mixed with horrible nausea churning away in his stomach. “I don’t feel good,” he mumbles. 

“I know you don’t kiddo. I’m so sorry,” Tony says, feeling a hand brush away a strand of damp curls that are stuck to his sweaty forehead. “How about you take a minute to catch your breath and we’ll get you all cleaned up and back into bed, okay?”

Peter blinks hard as he looks down at his lap again, but closes his eyes at the disgusting state of his lap. He opens them back up again and looks at Tony, brows pulled together. “I-Is this… is this real?” He asks. 

Tony’s face falls as he reaches up and gently wipes a trail of tears from Peter’s cheeks with a calloused thumb. “Of course it is, bud,” he softly says. “This is real, I’m real and you’re at the cabin with me, Pepper and Morgan.” 

Peter sniffs wetly. “B-But… it just felt s-so real.” He whispers. 

Tony nods as he runs a hand through Peter’s hair. “I know, Pete but I promise you it wasn’t. It was just a nightmare.” He says in a soft voice as he places the back of his hand on Peter’s forehead, frowning. “You’re burning up, kiddo. It looks like this is more than just a migraine.” 

Peter breathes out a sigh at that. “‘Course it’s not.” He mumbles miserably. Good ol’ Parker Luck. 

“How about we get you cleaned up, hmm?” 

Peter wordlessly nods as Tony helps him stand up, grabbing him a change of clothes from the dresser before slowly leading him out of his room and down the hallway to the bathroom. Tony is practically carrying him with how wobbly his legs are, but they manage to make it to the bathroom and Tony helps him sit on the closed toilet seat. 

Peter closes his eyes against the painful throbbing going on behind them, letting himself slowly slump against the wall next to him. He’s barely aware of Tony wiping his face with a warm washcloth until he’s gently shaken. 

“Pete, you gotta open your eyes for me, bud,” Tony says softly. 

Peter lets out a low, hoarse groan as he blinks open his eyes, squinting against the LED lighting in the bathroom. 

“Arms up,” Tony instructs as he helps him out of his ruined t-shirt and into a clean one. “Think you can stand up on your own so you can change your pants?” 

Peter binks slowly. “M’ kinda dizzy,” he admits.

Tony frowns at that as he goes back to the task at hand and helps Peter slide his ruined pajama pants off, grateful to have a pair of boxers on to save him any further embarrassment. Tony helps him stand up on shaky legs to pull on the clean pair of sweatpants he grabbed, helping Peter pull them up to his waist.

“I think you’re good to go, bud,” Tony says, offering him a small smile.

Peter tries to smile but he thinks it comes out more of a grimace. Tony wraps an arm around his waist and helps him out of the bathroom and back down the hall towards his room at a slow pace. When they walk back into the room, Pepper is throwing a white duvet over his bed and she looks up at them, offering Peter a warm, sympathetic smile.

“How are you feeling, honey?” She asks.

Peter makes a weak sound at the back of his throat as he blinks sluggishly, too tired to form words anymore.

“He’s feeling pretty crappy,” Tony answers for him as he guides him over to the bed and helps him lie down on the clean sheets, which Peter suspects Pepper changed while they were gone.

Despite how out of it he is, Peter feels guilty that she cleaned up after him.

“M’ sorry,” Peter mumbles as he blinks open his eyes as Tony pulls the covers up to his chin. “M’ such a problem.”

Tony frowns as he exchanges a look Peter doesn’t catch with Pepper before he looks back down at him as he sits on the edge of the bed. “No, you’re not,”

Peter shakes his head, feeling tears pricking at his eyes. “I am,” He argues weakly. “Y-You shouldn’t have to deal with me.”

“Peter,” Pepper says as she sits down on the edge of the bed on the other side. “You’re not a problem, honey. You’re sick and you’re tired. We want to help you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “Besides, it’s part of the job description.” He says with a small smile.

Peter honestly doesn’t know what he’s done in life to deserve such an amazing and caring family.

“Why don’t you try to get some more sleep?” Tony says as he fixes the blanket around Peter and tucks him in.

“Okay,” Peter mumbles as he blinks up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Feel better, honey,” Pepper says softly as she smoothes a hand over his hair before she stands up and walks out into the hallway.

A spark of fear shoots through Peter as Tony stands up and he thinks he’s about to leave too. “Can you stay?” Peter slurs tiredly.

“Of course I can,” Tony says, the corners of his lips turning up in a small smile as he walks to the other side of the bed and settles against the headrest.

Peter slowly rolls on his side so he’s facing him and wiggles himself up so his head is resting against Tony’s chest, earning a chuckle from him in response.

“Feeling a little cuddly are we?”

“Mhmm…” Peter hums as he closes his eyes, feeling Tony’s hand settle in his hair, hearing the faint, comforting thumping of Tony’s heart against his ear. “T’hnks for taking care of me,” he mumbles sleepily.

“That’s what I’m here for, Pete,” Tony tells him, warmness in his voice as he cards his fingers through Peter’s curls.

[janekfan]

Ten Seconds

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25814524

One can do anything for ten seconds. And then all you have to do is start with another ten seconds and well. You can do anything for ten seconds. Jon blinked back the encroaching, smothering black.

Ten seconds.

Martin deserved ten seconds. Ten thousand seconds. Ten billion seconds. But at the moment, Jon can only spare him ten. And then he would spare him ten more.

Ten seconds.

Martin’s hand was cold, pale, and Jon worried that without his ability to See, there would be no one beside him on the train. Awkwardly, he pressed trembling lips to the soft head of auburn hair settled against his chest. (Was there even a heartbeat under there?) He could do this now, he was allowed.

Ten seconds.

Jon stayed there for a full count, breathing in the comfort of Martin, there, with him, against him. Solid. Not quite warm yet. But there. His weight grounding Jon as his mind attempted to race and came up only with

Hungry. Hungry. Starving. Hollow. Empty. Empty. Empty. Painhurthungerempty there’s a statement in the second car and pleasejustletmeeatsomethingiamstarvingandsosoSOHUNGRY.

Ten seconds.

Swallowing down the intrusive thoughts past the clot of agony in his throat, Jon could feel every scar one hundred fold. Itching. Aching. Stretching like mouths in his ashen skin to reveal what monster lay underneath and he couldn’t let it because then everyone would Know like he Knew. He offered the elderly lady across from him a wavering smile and she returned it and it was so normal and nothing had been normal for so long. He buried his face in Martin’s hair, sweet, exhausted, Lonely, Martin who needed him to be strong for just once in his greedy life.

Ten seconds.

He cried, silently, hidden from sight, every nerve alight as he strained the limit of his unwanted powers to make sure nothing was following them.

Ten seconds.

That’s all he needed before the train pulled to a lurching stop at the small, but well kept station. Jon shouldered their backpacks, cupping Martin’s cheek and touching his forehead to his.

“Up you get, darling.” Martin’s eyes were hazy and grey, brightening to strawflower blue when he acknowledged Jon. “If we don’t disembark now, we’ll have left all the good cows behind us.” Despite his own slightness and Martin’s greater height, Jon guided them both to the platform, looking around to clear his head. “Come, love. I know the way.” Gentle. To make up for all the times he was not. That’s what Martin deserved. Kindness and gentleness and softness.

Jon was worried his sharp edges and temper and hunger would never be enough.

Ten seconds.

Huffing, wheezing, he hadn't been particularly fit before and wasn’t that a poor position to be in when most of your job relied on running from individual eldritch horrors, Jon struggled to hitch them both up the small slope to the tiny village. Though there were spare, flickering street lights, most of the windows were dark and if Jon hadn’t just compelled a being to death, he might have been frightened. As it was, the cottage came into view and Jon turned the key in the old lock and pushed in, going down under the heavy weakness in his legs.

“...Jon?”

“S’alright, Martin.” Just taking a short rest.

Ten seconds.

Before making it to the couch and taking Martin’s hands in his own. Gingerly, Jon rubbed his thumbs over the back of his hands, trying to impart some warmth, any warmth, into that frozen skin.

“I’ll make us some tea.” Get Martin warm. Warm and safe. Packs in a pile, Jon spread a knitted throw over him, tucking it around his shoulders and making quite sure he wouldn’t end up with a crick in his neck.

Ten seconds.

He locked the door.

Ten seconds.

Piled wood into the fireplace and checked the flue, no good would come of smoking them both like a fish.

Ten seconds.

And ten more again.

To work up the courage to strike a match and light the tinder and his hands shook so badly the first guttered out. The scar on his palm burned like the day he’d received it. Strike the match. Light the tinder. Stoke the fire and check the draft.

Ten seconds.

To cry and shake on the hearth. To rock back and forth, hands rough against his face, tears wet and uncomfortable and all his stifling made his head throb. When finally he could stand again, Jon checked on Martin, kissed his cheek because he was allowed to do that now, and stumbled into the kitchen to turn on the hob and heat some water.

“Oh.” He could see in the dark. When had that happened? He distracted himself with locating tea, so old, and Jon could pinpoint the exact date it had been manufactured, when it arrived on the shelf. When Daisy bought it and how long she took to put it away and when the last time a human, or somewhat human, hand had touched it and Martin would no doubt find it flavorless, but it was normalcy. A few dry goods in airtight containers, things that could be whipped up by adding water, stocked the pantry. They would need to go to the market but could survive for several days on what they had here. Or Marin could. Jon wanted only what he could not have. It would worry Martin. So he would try to eat. He could try anything for Martin. A sharp pang lanced through his middle and he curled up around it, gripping the counter for dear life and clapping a hand over his mouth to cut off the noise.

Ten seconds.

And the tea was done. And the lamp next to the couch worked to cast a cozy yellow glow over the room. Jon set his own chipped mug on the table before waking Martin to press another mug, warm from the tea, into his hands.

“Nothing could measure up to your tea, but it’s hot.” When Martin smiled, Jon’s whole body tingled; he wanted to make Martin smile always.

“Thank you, love.” The endearment made his head swim. This was his. To selfishly keep and to hold and to horde and because the Eye wanted to do that anyway, it was that much easier but no less unbelievable. More color flooded into Martin’s face at the first sip, and the expression he made, caught between polite and disgust, made Jon chuckle.

“We’ll have to stock up.” Martin continued to sip despite the taste, becoming more and more aware with each swallow, and Jon wanted to ask if he could. Maybe. “C’c’ould I. Perhaps.” Now that the idea was in his mind it was almost louder than the hunger and he couldn’t think of anything else. Martin raised an eyebrow because of course he did, because he wanted to hear Jon to say it. “I. I.” Breathe. “J’join you?” The only dignified way he could think of saying ‘if you don’t hold me now, I may fall completely apart, and you need me to not do that to you this time.’ Martin grinned widely, face soft and open and so, so beautiful, set his empty mug on the table and opened up the blanket. It was all Jon could do not to leap at him and cling like a limpet, and instead sideled into his embrace, melting against his side. Safe. Safe. He was safe. They were safe. He would always be safe here. Nuzzling his cheek into a broad chest and winding both hands into his jumper, Jon sighed, letting the steady heartbeat quiet the voices, the Knowing, listening to the quiet. Like Daisy said, just listen to the quiet. When he looked up, Martin met his gaze, and Jon charted the freckles like constellations dusted over his cheeks and knew he would never forget any of them even if someday he could.

“You look tired, Jon.” Martin frowned and no, no, no, Jon didn’t want him to do that, anything but that. Not because of him. So he chuffed, in that way that mimicked disbelief and ire. It was easy. Too easy. To build those walls back up again. But he’d hurt him so much already. He had to protect Martin from himself. From the monster that was hired right along with him.

“It’s been. Well, a bit of a day.” His legs were folded up on the couch and when had that happened? pressing his boney knees into Martin’s soft thigh. He’d been starving before he dove into the Lonely for Martin, to retrieve what was his, and he’d used up even more of himself destroying Peter Lukas, then most of the rest to leave with his precious, invaluable prize. “Bit of a decade, really.”

“Shall we, then?” Jon felt himself flush red and buried his nose into Martin’s chest. Because yes. yes. He wanted to lay beside Martin at night. Watch him wake up next to him. Last action of the day to kiss him good night, first of the morning to kiss him awake. “Oh, darling.” The amusement in his quiet voice made him flash hotter and Martin’s arms wrapped him up so completely he felt cocooned within the sanctuary of his hold. Cherished. Something that still had value despite being so, so ugly.

Ten seconds.

He couldn’t let himself cry. Not where Martin could see. Not when it would only make him worry.

“Y’yes, please.” This time Martin grabbed their packs, held Jon by the waist when the change in position made his head swim. “Heh. T’t’tired.” It wasn’t a lie, not completely, but it left a sour taste on his tongue either way. They were changing for bed when Jon realized Martin had turned self conscious, and he pressed himself into his surprised arms, skin singing like he’d been struck by lighting the moment they touched, tugging him down to meet him for a sweet kiss. “I love you.” Now it was Martin’s turn to blush and it only made Jon kiss him that much more. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The bed was just big enough for the pair of them to be comfortable and though Martin dropped off quickly, he was now warm to the touch, their faces scant centimeters apart. It was dark but Jon could make out every precious feature made prettier by the soft moonlight, lashes darker and swept over cheeks Jon wanted to kiss over and over and over again. Like this, in this tentative peace, Jon felt he finally had space to take a full breath. They were safe here. It was called a safe house. It was in the name.

But just in case he would stay awake to keep watch. To protect that which was his should something decide now was a good time to get cheeky.

Ten seconds.

He kept himself still so as not to disturb him. Watching. He needed to rest and recover and he wouldn’t be able to do so if Jon was rolling about the sheets. When the hunger threatened to crescendo, to beg him to extract any and all statements from Martin and he had so many, he distracted himself by memorizing all that he could.

Ten seconds.

The way his freckles were splashed more heavily on the left side of his face.

Ten seconds.

There were exactly seventeen dusted over his nose, with one close to the corner of his right eye.

Ten seconds.

Depending on what size and how pigmented, Jon could map Ursa Minor using the one nearest his lashes as Polaris. Ursa Major was too far away in terms of accuracy--

A wave of ache crested in his mind. The Eye no doubt tired of his little games.

Ten seconds.

In terms of accuracy, but was there, tucked closely to his ear, hidden partially from sight by a stray curl. Jon giggled, slightly hysterical, clamping both hands over his face. But there was a veritable zoo with Draco and Pegasus and Cignus.

Ten seconds.

Waiting for Martin to stir, his nose to scrunch up as he came awake on his own before pouncing and kissing him the rest of the way to consciousness.

“Good morning to you as well, Jon!” Martin was laughing. Hugging him close and kissing him back. He was allowed to have this.

Ten seconds.

“You need feeding up, darling.” Martin ran his fingers over Jon’s shivery ribs, playing them as though they were piano keys, pausing at the space left behind by the Boneturner. “You’re practically hollow.”

Ten seconds.

If he only knew. Instead.

“There are instant porridge oats in the pantry.” The thought of food made his stomach turn.

“As good as we’ll get, I suspect. At least until we head into the village.” They got ready squashed together at the small bathroom sink. It was nice. Domestic.

Jon watched Martin read the box, selecting two packets and pouring them into two bowls, He tipped a careful measure of hot water from the kettle over the gravel dust lining each before turning to pass two mugs of tea to him.

“Even my tea making abilities didn’t stand a chance.” He set a bowl before Jon, sliding a spoon across the table. Something must have shown in his face because Martin covered his hand with his own. “I know it’s. It’s not what you want. But.” Jon startled, knowing his eyes were wide in surprise as he looked up at Martin. “I’ll contact Basira. We’ll get you what you need.”

“Martin. N’n’no, it’s alright.”

Ten seconds.

“It really isn’t.” And he kissed his forehead.

Ten seconds.

“I’m not. Sure. If I, I can go to the village.” Jon tugged his mug closer to him, fingers leeching the warmth from the porcelain. “I’m. I’m not safe.” Barely above a whisper, he didn’t want to admit to this weakness in him. But he needed to be honest or he’d just put them in more danger.

He couldn’t protect Martin if he was chasing meals and out of his mind.

“No worries, love. I can go for the both of us.” Martin stirred his breakfast before taking a bite and not wanting to disappoint him, Jon forced a mouthful himself and the regret was instantaneous. “Oh, Jon.” He leaned into his palm as it cupped his ear.

Ten seconds.

Ten seconds.

Ten seconds.

Jon was dizzy, freezing. Like he’d taken the Lonely inside himself and housed it right next to where the worst of his hunger resided. He was so relieved Basira was shipping statements because if Jon were being honest with himself for once, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist just taking the statements from the one he loved most.

Ten seconds.

How many more until he could have any small respite?

Ten seconds.

At least it was quiet here. With Martin. They saw plenty of truly lovely cows on the walks they took hand in hand and side by side and Jon got to spend all the time he wanted curled against him, letting the rhythm of his pulse quiet the ravenous need.

Tonight though, he couldn’t seem to get warm, caught between chills and hunger pangs he kept to himself even though Martin could see right into his soul it seemed. He often wondered if Martin hated what he saw.

“Soon, love.” Oh, and the pain in Martin’s voice. This isn’t what Jon wanted at all.

Ten seconds.

When he was sure Martin was asleep, Jon crept out of bed to retrieve the jumper he’d discarded and pull it over his head, sighing with relief not because he was any warmer, but because now Martin was all around him. Even as he tried not to, tried to keep watch, Jon succumbed to sleep tucked tightly against Martin, drowning gently in him.

When Martin woke, he allowed himself a few moments to appreciate the small body snuggled up close because there was a time where he wasn’t sure he’d ever have a moment like this again. He brushed his fingers through prematurely greying hair and tucked it behind Jon’s ear so he could press his lips against his forehead, both eyelids, his cheek, his nose, to the corner of his slack mouth, smiling against the stubble there. Jon didn’t stir and Martin decided to let him sleep as long as possible. He wasn’t well. Pale and gaunt, haunted by the things he’d seen and been forced to do. Jon destroyed Peter Lukas, dragged him from the Lonely, got them all the way to Scotland.

Jon wouldn’t hear of him giving a statement, maybe he could give him this.

He was doing the washing up in the kitchen when he heard unsteady shuffling behind him followed by a hoarse, bleary voice.

“Martin. Y’were gone.”

“Jon?” Martin had just seconds to appreciate how small, how adorable Jon was swallowed up in his cable knit, swaying there like a bit of weed caught up in the tide. It hung off one narrow brown shoulder to fall mid thigh revealing bare, scarred legs and mismatched socked feet. His thin hands were fisted in the ends of the sleeves, one of them sleepily rubbing at an eye limned with shadows so dark Martin would have thought they’d been blacked had he not known better.

Just seconds before he crumpled like wet paper or a house of cards, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, his temple striking the wooden floor far too hard for Martin’s liking.

“Jon!” Fluttering, his hands lingered over Jon’s limp body like butterflies, lighting only briefly before resuming their frantic flight. He wasn’t sure he could move him. Touch him. What if he made it worse? Would he heal from this? When he was starved as he was?

“Mmh…” A bare sliver of unfocused dull brown appeared between lashes parted a hairsbreadth.

“Jon?” Delicately, Martin brushed aside his hair to get a better look at where he struck his head and violently, Jon flinched away from the light touch, breath picking up, trembling beginning in earnest now. At least there was no blood, only a nasty contusion that already seemed to be healing, albeit slowly, and he attempted to shift. “Hush, hush, don’t move. I’ve got you, darling. It’s Martin and I’ve got you.”

“Mmmartin.”

“Yes, I’m going to lift you.” Frighteningly limp, Jon weighed almost nothing in his arms and Martin tucked him closer, into his neck, protectively. “You’re so cold, love.”

“Martin.” The small whimper was little more than an exhale against his jaw. “Martin.”

“I’m here.” He settled him on the bed, still turned down from where Jon untangled himself to go looking for him just moments ago. “I’ve got you.” And to his utter dismay a painful sob wrenched itself free from Jon’s throat. “Oh, darling, shh, it’s alright.” Martin pulled the blankets up around them both and Jon turned into his chest, clutching him as tightly as he could, tears coming silently in a torrent, slipping over the bridge of his nose and soaking the sheets. “Alright, alright.” Gradually the shaking died down, and the hitching in his breath evened out into panting, and further into something approaching sleep. Saltwater damp lashes brushed against Martin’s skin and he stroked his palm up and down Jon’s back, pressing his lips wherever they could reach until his body relaxed completely, the hand once gripping him for dear life now loosely curled on the pillow where his head rested. Martin was sick with worry. He’d never seen Jon lose control like this; not even at his most paranoid.

Retrieving a damp flannel, Martin swept it delicately over Jon’s face, concerned when he didn’t so much as twitch, before setting it aside and settling in to wait. This time he would be here when Jon woke.

To give in to the Eye and watch (take) is to be rid of the pain of resisting.

It is equal parts loss and failure.

Monstrous. Untouchable, but afraid, so afraid.

Watching himself being watched by himself, being watched by himself, being watched by himself, being watched, infinitely, forever, because what watches the Ceaseless Watcher but itself? Through the hole torn in the very fabric of the sky, gloating, glutted, on truths and falsehoods it wasn’t supposed to have, to know, to keep like it had right.

Eyes forced to see, too many eyes, eyes that didn’t belong to him (all eyes belonged to him), feeding, gorging on information and Knowing, Knowing, Knowing, unable to shut the doors, unable to keep them out, out, out because now they were open and staring and wide and he didn’t have the strength to shut them again. Nothing but a conduit. A seemingly unlimited vessel somehow filled to the brim and bursting, seeping through the cracks of himself, rivulets of Knowing like acid, like hot, burning, blazing blood that he tried to keep inside through force of habit because no matter how much he lost, there was always more. More. More.

Too much. Too much. Too much.

But he needed it to breathe. To be. To suffocate him. Pain. But beautiful. The euphoria of holding one’s breath beneath the sea, silent, soft, soundless but for the muffled cadence of your heart in your ears.

Ten seconds.

To fill his lungs with water.

Ten seconds.

To decipher the reverberation beating against every sense.

Ten seconds.

“Martin.”

Ten seconds.

His throat ached.

Ten seconds.

To open his eyes, his two eyes. To see Martin’s frantic face above him. To feel wetness splash his face.

Ten seconds.

“Martin.” Shaky, he pressed a palm to his cheek, thumbed away a stray tear. “What’s wrong, darling?” Martin huffed, lips pulled into a trembling smile, and covered the back of Jon’s hand with his own.

“You’ve gone absolutely daft.” Martin scrubbed his face furiously, but it didn’t stop those blue eyes from welling up. “You, Jon.”

“M’alright.”

“Nope. Try again.”

“Martin--”

“You were screaming, Jon. I’ve. I’ve never. I didn’t know a person could sound like that.”

“I’m not quite a person though, am I?”

“Do not start with me, Jonathan Sims.”

“Oh, full name.” It hurt to speak, but felt so good to tease, to put a degree of separation between whatever this was and the nightmare he’d just been pulled from. “Am I in trouble, Mr. Blackwood?”

“You’ve not escaped this conversation.” Martin flopped to the pillows beside him, tugging Jon to his chest and he went willingly, melting under the kisses dotted amongst his hairline. Letting go of the residual tension. Losing himself in the quiet.

Ten seconds.

“S’sorry.” He felt Martin chin move against the top of his head.

“Whatever for, love?” Jon gestured weakly at the whole of himself, hand falling to the quilt at the end of its path, letting himself be squeezed tightly. “It’s not ideal, no.”

Ten seconds.

“But it doesn’t change how I feel.” Jon didn’t know he’d been holding his breath until it rushed out of him all at once, dizzied with relief. “You’re insufferable, but that’s just part of your charm.” A sweet kiss cut off his sputtering.

The gnawing, empty, ache was still there, buried deeply below the distraction Martin provided, buried beneath the love there and Jon could have wept at how lucky he was.

“Up you come, Jon.” He was still in the jumper, shy under Martin’s affectionate adoration as their fingers threaded together; the spaces between made for each other. “I’ll make us some tea.”

[xempasuchil-love-blog]

Hope (Harry x Uma) one-shot

Summary:  Sometimes the VK’s cannot believe that true love exists. It is something so alien that it sounds like a farce, a story that parents make up to scare. Mal proclaims from the rooftops that she has found it, but her false smile is fooling no one. But when the VK’s see Harry and Uma, they can't help it. They feel hope. They do not know what it is love, no one has taught them, so they cannot name what they see between those two, they only know that it is a bit similar (and so different) to what Auradon calls love.

HOPE

10 years

Uma, daughter of Ursula; and Harry Hook are two of the most unusual children on the Isle of the Lost. The adults know it, and they try not to run into them, because the monsters know no limits. No one respects a good villain anymore these days (most are just old and pretty tired, though the evil hasn't left their dreams and bones), and if you run into the pair of bored kids, you're more than likely to end up being the target of some particularly painful joke. No, thank you very much.

A villain, on one of his good days, can put either of the two children in their place; drag Uma by the braids to her mother's shop (though it would surely end with a good handful of scratches and bites) or lead Hook's son by the ear to the docks (who gives a real hook to a ten-year-old boy, anyway?), but it happens that they are never separated. And together… together they are a true force to fear.

They ravage the isle like a tornado, robbing stores, painting walls and emptying pockets. They spend every stolen penny as innocent as they should be at their age, buying sweets and trinkets, and enjoying them on the deck of the Jolly Roger. (They always share their loot.)

The girls on the isle want to be like Uma (until Mal has a fit of envy, throws a bucket of shrimp at Uma's head and, since everyone is afraid of her mother, they decide they want to be like her), and kids envy Harry's hook.

11 years

A year has passed since the incident, and Uma has not been able to get the shrimp smell out of her braids. Every day for the past year she has gotten up earlier than everyone to earn some soap in the daily supply shipments, but even when she gets it, the smell never goes away. Uma screams and curses Mal in all her rage, because during that year in which Uma's life has taken a nosedive, Mal seems to win everything. She is considered one of the meanest girls on the isle and Maleficent has given her a bit of territory to terrorize; all Uma gets are screams from her mother, the beginning of a severe case of anemia, and the nickname Shrimpy.

But Harry is there for her, her faithful friend. He holds her when her legs buckle from exhaustion, lets her hit him when she's so mad at the smell of her hair that she wants to burn it, and threatens to hook on anyone who dares to call her Shrimpy.

Maybe Uma has gained something: a best friend.

12 years

Harry is about the perfect age to look like Peter Pan, and his sly, cheeky personality causes his father to throw him off the ship for a few months. He won't admit it, but he's scared. The only consolation he has is his hook, and suddenly a wonderful idea occurs to him. His father will want him back when he sees that he has a real hook hand, right? So, he leans over the water and waits for hours for Tick tack to show up. When the crocodile finally starts to close his mouth over his hand, Harry panics, somehow manages to get a punch at him and runs all the way down the dock towards Ursula's shop, his hand dripping with blood because anyway, the crocodile's teeth ripped a bit.

Uma yells at him more than she has ever yelled in her life, even more than with the shrimp, and she is not at all soft when heals his wound. She is beyond angry, she is so furious that she cannot see him in the eye without starting to insult him; she looks so exhausted, and Harry notices that sometimes it is hard for her to breathe, but she gives him a place in her bed (even though they fight at night over the only blanket she has) and steals some of the food from the store for him.

When his father finally lets him go back to the Jolly Roger, Harry promises himself that he will find a way to make Uma's heart beat slower, to erase the daze from her face; so, he struggles and every food he steals, if it is edible, he gives it to her. Uma giggles in his face, cheeky, but in the end, she ends up eating so hungry that it hurts Harry to watch. Still, he looks.

(He can't deny that he cares about her).

13 years.

Uma's heart beats at a normal rate, she has regained her strength and demands that Harry teach her to fight with swords. She's tired of feeling weak and small, so she runs in the morning, she trains with Harry every night, and her arms start to get muscle. Like, real muscle.

She wants to be a pirate, the sea in her blood calls her to have adventures and be free, take whatever she wants and live each day as if it were her last. Harry is not only satisfied with teaching her, he pushes her to the limit until one night she seems to forget everything and the only thing that can be heard on the beach is the thunder of metal colliding with metal, furious, and suddenly Harry is no longer giving blows but stopping them, until he realizes that his sword is lying on the ground and Uma smiles triumphantly, screams with joy and turns on the beach laughing, her arms outstretched and her braids moving in the suffocating sea breeze. Harry could only stare at her in a daze; because he suddenly notices that there is a delicate curve in her waist and her features are more delicate.

Two months later, when Harry walks into the Chip Shoppe one morning, as usual, he can't find Uma anywhere. Without daring to ask Ursula, he sneaks into the tavern and runs up the stairs to where Uma's room is. He worries that she's gotten sick again and hasn't told him, or something like that; he remembers seeing her grumpy for the past week, but what he doesn't expect is to find her curled up in her bed, scared.

"Uma? Are you okay?” Harry asks, and she looks up at him. He is her best friend, she should trust him (even when everything on the Isle is about mistrust, they like to break the rules), right?

But she seems torn between shame and fright. Harry approaches her bed, and she looks away from him as she forces the words out of her lips, even a few angry tears escape because she is not used to being afraid.

"I'm bleeding."

But no matter how hard Harry looks for a wound on her face or arms, he can't find it. So, she seems to want to die of embarrassment and it all fits into Harry's mind, because he remembers Harriet crying the first time it happened. He is relieved to know that Uma is fine, but he is still a thirteen-year-old boy, so his face turns red. He swallows his pride to place a braid behind her ear with his hook, in a gesture that pretends to be affectionate (but he does not know affection, so he does not know if he achieves it very well).

“Don't worry, it's normal. I'll go find Harriet to ask for her help and I'll come back. Right?"

Uma nods without looking him in the eye, and when Harry is about to walk out her bedroom door, he hears her say thank you. Uma has never said thank you or please, so he can't stop a smile from spreading across his face.

That year, no one attends her birthday party (The Sinister Thirteen) because Mal has decided to have her birthday party on the same day. Harry and Gil, Gaston's youngest son, take her to steal some alcohol and get drunk for the first time in their lives.

Uma doesn't want to know why alcohol makes her want to be closer to Harry or what is this strange feeling in her belly that she can only name as needing. She never says anything about it, anyway.

14 years

Harry is upset. He has had to listen to several guys say how hot Uma is, how much they want to kiss her face and that her waist is so provocative. He has been wanting to break faces all week, but he can't do anything, because he reminds himself that he lives on the Isle and that any little weakness he shows can be twisted in the worst way. He reminds himself that he would be putting Uma in danger, because the Isle has a motto: "if you can't have it, break it." They would break her just to amuse themselves with his anger. So, he grits his teeth, squeezes his hook until his fist turns white, and goes on his way.

There is a part of him that doesn't understand why he gets so upset. Uma is one of the most beautiful girls on the Isle, so she is more exposed. But he has heard the same comments about Harriet, Mal, and other girls. He realizes that what bothers him about that is the way they talk about her, as if she were just another girl, when Harry knows that Uma has divine heritage running through her veins.

They should have more respect for goddesses.

For what else could she be, whose laughter sounds like the tempest, whose blue-green braids are like the tide, whose voice can be as sweet as foam and as cruel as a typhoon?

The next time he says her name, he can't help it sounding like a prayer.

15 years

Sometimes Uma wishes Harry would stop flirting with everything that moves. (She's not jealous at all!) But there is something about it that irritates her. It seems like a lie, and although everyone on the isle lies, she doesn't like to see him lying to himself. She can't help but wonder why he does it if his eyes fill with pain as he smiles (and the girls swoon at his feet).

One night, Harry steals his father's alcohol, and they hide on the beach, staring at the sea and cursing Auradon (because they realize their future is having no future) and making fun of Mal and her entire gang, and Uma feels so good to be there with him that she forgets to be cautious and gets drunk.

She is tired. She hates working for her mother, she hates the Isle and she hates lies. She hates secrets. So she, emboldened by alcohol, decides to be honest with herself. She looks at Harry, who seems happy and relaxed, staring up at the sky, always trying to find the Neverland star, and she tells herself that she's sick of this shit: she accepts that she's in love with him.

Uma doesn't try to deny it. She has no patience for such nonsense.

"I want you to be mine," she tells him (it's the closest she can dare to say her feelings), and Harry is so shocked that he accidentally drops the rum bottle, spilling its contents all over the beach. She is claiming him, more or less, and Harry feels incredible satisfaction from that fact.

"I already am," he tells her, all dangerous serenity.

Uma kneels on the sand, impatient, and then sits on Harry's lap with her legs on either side of his hips. Her sense of need returns, but she finds that she feels a little sated if she rubs against him. She likes the way his lips moan and his eyes blur, for her.

Harry kisses her, his lips taste of rum and adventure, just like a pirate should. Just like she always imagined Harry would taste. Afterwards, they look for any excuse to lock themselves in closets and rooms. Lust is common on the isle, but Harry's touch is reverent, and Uma finds the most tender side of her, which is like the sea breeze and calm waves, to caress his lips.

And he does not make her his as a prize, an easy conquest, an object that is used or a simple means to satisfy his needs. When he makes her his, he makes sure Uma knows that he loves her. (He can no longer deny it).

16 years.

Harry and Uma are unusual on the isle. Sure, everyone fears Mal and her gang, so when they are sent to Auradon, basically betray the villains and forget about them, the fear easily turns to hatred and desire of revenge. Uma and her new crew take over Mal’s old territory and, although it is impossible to believe, things improve a bit, because Uma doles out the supplies and the fear that Harry instills keeps the territory, to some extent, safe. The safest thing that can be being the Isle of the Lost.

It is not a secret that Uma hates Mal, it is not a secret that she wants revenge on her. Everyone on the isle knows that now the queen of the place is not a queen part fairy, but a Pirate Queen, everyone knows that she is dangerous, deadly, and that she would not hesitate to cut a neck with her sword.

Sometimes the VK’s cannot believe that true love exists. It is something so alien that it sounds like a farce, a story that parents make up to scare. Mal proclaims from the rooftops that she has found it, but her false smile is fooling no one.

But when the VK’s see Harry and Uma, they can't help it. They feel hope. They do not know what it is love, no one has taught them, so they cannot name what they see between those two, they only know that it is a bit similar (and so different) to what Auradon calls love.

And not even the cruellest dare to break it. It is like seeing a single flower being born in the middle of a field where nothing has ever sprouted, it is like finding an oasis in a desert that stretches across the entire horizon.

Uma smiles at Harry, and he looks at her like she is the world.

Although the swords hang from their hips.

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker - No more fondue on my watch

This got a little out of hand... Hope you like it @peterwandaparker​​!

Plot: Peter and you have been together for a while now, but nothing can go past Captain America eagle’s eyes.

Warnings (or notes): SMUT or nearly smut, but there is a dick. And this is Peter Parker x Rogers!reader. Let’s be honest, there is a bit of Stony

You bit your lip, uncrossing your legs and doing it again just by pure nervousness. Or boredom, that worked too. There was a ray of sun that had moved since you had arrived the length of the table. If you fixed your eyes there for a long time, just like you had been doing, you could see it moving; and it was the most entertaining thing you had done since you had woken up. And you had woken up really, really early.

But that’s what you got when you lived in another district, you wanted to look presentable for him, and your father was Captain America, who could have a heart attack if you were late once more. Who wasn’t as punctual as your father was Tony, the engineer who still was in his lab for sure.

You weren’t uncomfortable in the tower, but you had places to be instead of the living room. Like, your boyfriend’s room.

“Hey dad” you tried.

Steve was wearing what you called ‘I’m gonna meet my crush’ attire. Tight grey shirt, black jeans and a fairly big amount of hair gel. He was reading a book of his list of ‘things I missed under ice’, which in your opinion was too long and boring. But he insisted in completing it, maybe just for the sake of Tony, who wrote it.

He raised a brow at you, his eyes not leaving the book but letting you know that he was aware. You coughed to make you sound as casual as possible, because sneaking out on Captain America wasn’t easy.

“How… much longer?”

“I don’t know” he gave you the same answer for the fifth time. “Whenever Tony finishes what he’s doing. It’s not like you have anything better to do, Y/N”

You bit your remark about your plans; any plan, actually, was better than waiting in the compound in silence since seven in the morning.

“But I’m hungry” you said, and Steve raised his head finally. You contained the proud smirk.

“Didn’t you have breakfast at your mother’s?”

Steve Rogers was a man of a diet. He didn’t have chocolate, sweets, fried stuff or anything that could be bad for health, and he forced anyone who lived with him to have 5 meals per day. The thing was that you were still a minor, and you didn’t always live with him.

Your mother and Steve didn’t have the perfect relationship, you could say. They were both wonderful people, but too stubborn to get along. So it pained you to lie about her, but that was the only way to get around your dad.

“Not really, since you woke me up at five” you almost barked, still hurt that he had blasted your phone away. “But mom wasn’t awake and there was no milk”

“I can’t believe that’s how she raise a child” Steve tightened his jaw. “What’s next? Telling me you had pizza for dinner?”

With extra cheese, actually

“No, dad” you lied again, salivating at the thought of pizza. “Can I eat something or should I starve to death?”

Steve was quiet for a while. He was against every type of snack; and if he ever pardoned one, was that tasteless rice pancake without fats, sugar or salt. It felt like eating cotton. He looked at the clock of his wrist, and sighed, going back to reading the book.

“Try not to raze Tony’s pantry, please” he gave up. “And don’t eat anything that has … just try to avoid eating Nutella from the jar”

You chuckled and hoped off the sofa, speeding to the kitchen. Closing the door behind you, you marvelled at the huge space in front of you. It was probably bigger than your father’s and mother’s apartment. Without wasting another beat, you walked to the fridge and enjoyed the opportunity of the free card of food.

The fridge was full of things that you couldn’t even name, but you were more than aware that that’s who Tony was. You contented yourself with a ham and turkey sandwich. Knowing you weren’t going to go back to your father, you made another one and reached for the bag of chips in the top counter.  

You were just putting everything in the tray along with two juices when your phone sounded.

Petey-pie [9:39]: i’m getting up early 4 u

Petey-pie [9:39]: hurt not to wake up by u smashing a pillow on my head

Petey-pie [9:39]: where are u

You sent a quick reply, telling him to stop being so needy and that you would be there in a minute. His room was on the other side of the compound, so you weren’t worried about running into your father; besides, luck seemed to smile at you, because you heard Tony’s voice from the living room greeting him.

And you knew that Tony was enough to keep your father busy for a few hours; after all, he didn’t put the ‘I’m gonna meet my crush’ attire for nothing.

You picked up the tray and tiptoed toward the other end of the kitchen, where the door for the main hallway was. You ran past your ‘room’, the one you used when Steve went on a mission with the Avengers and didn’t want you to stay alone, or with your mother. That he wasn’t living there anymore didn’t mean he wasn’t a part of the team, much to your mother dislike.

There weren’t many things there, but you quickly changed from your boots to soft padded socks with small cute bears decorating. Once you were comfortable enough to spend the whole morning there, you closed the door of your room and skipped to his.

Peter wasn’t facing you when you opened the door, but rather looking out of the window daydreaming. He turned around once you were in, and gave you the most beautiful smile you had ever seen. He still had his eyes swollen by sleep, and his pyjamas were on. But he seemed awake enough to pick up the tray from your hands and set it aside, cornering you in the bathroom’s door and locking your lips.

You smiled into the kiss and raised your hand behind his neck. Peter’s room smelt a lot like Axe, a bad habit in your opinion that he had gotten from his dad mentor. The window was half open and his bed was still undone, which gave you a sense of home that you hadn’t felt in a while.

Peter’s lips against yours weren’t nice, but demanding. He pressed himself against your body and cradled your head with his hand, tilting it so that he had better access. When you ran out of air, he teared away and looked at you with a lovestruck gaze.

“Hi” you managed to say, out of breath. It came out a little high-pitched.

“I missed you” he whined, and pouted like a puppy. Your heard literally broke with his look, so you leaned forward and kissed him again.

The spring break was hard for everyone. There was no highschool, and even if it was good news for every teenager, for you wasn’t. It meant you couldn’t see Peter every day, that you lived with your mother during the week, and that you could only sneak around your father some weekends. Peter was probably who felt it the worse, since he was a rather clingy boy, and had made it known in the three months you had been together.

Peter broke away to keep pressing kissing on your cheek, nose and forehead. They were light kisses, so fast that you ended up giggling and tossing between his arms. When he felt like he could let you go, he gave you a final peck and stepped back.

“Breakfast in bed” he said, giving a side glance to the trail of food. “Is it any special service?”

“Only for the best” you chuckled, and walked to the bed.

Peter’s bed was probably the softest one. When him and May had moved over, Tony had made sure he spoiled Peter rotten. With May’s help, they bought him the comfiest cushion, the nerdiest stuff and the best computer. He didn’t accept half of it, but the bed was different. You let yourself be drowned in it, pale blue sheets surrounding you and making you feel like in a cloud. You closed your eyes and rested your head on his pillow, that smelt like him and made it ten times better.

He followed you close, and you felt the bed dipping under his weight. Slowly, he crawled until his head was resting in the space between your neck and shoulder, and you could caress his hair. His body was covering yours, and when Peter threw the covers over the both if you, it felt like you were in your own perfect little world.

The tray laid forgotten on the desk as Peter curled into a ball by your side, hugging your body as if it was his personal pillow. He tangled your legs together and intertwined his fingers with yours. When he was comfortable enough, he talked, and his hot breath hit the side of your face.

“I missed you” he repeated.

“I missed you too” you answered, turning your head so that your noses were touching.

“You know what I missed the most?” Peter asked, and by the smirk on his face, you knew that shy-Peter wasn’t making an appearance. “This”

Peter’s hand rested on your bare belly, and from there he kept going down. He was met with the hem of your trousers, a baggy sweaters that you had snitched from your mom before leaving that morning. Peter’s skilled fingers started undoing the knot of the front, and his body rocked against yours slowly.

“I hope you know what you’re doing” you teased.

By any answer, Peter shifted so that he was hovering over you, his hand still placed between your bodies and his eyes boring into you with burning love. He gave you a lazy, lopsided smirk and finished with the knot of your trousers.

He didn’t bother in tugging them down, but sneaked his hand down and his thumb touched the lace of your panties. He didn’t have to look to know they were the purple one, because he knew your wardrobe by heart; and because with the spider bite, came a constant flood of teenager’s hormones.

Your skin was soft and warm against his finger’s pad, and he gifted you with a soft grunt that made you clench your thighs and trap his hand in between. Peter chuckled.

“I don’t think I can stand another two weeks without seeing you” Peter said.

“Let’s just enjoy the moment”

And that’s exactly what you did.

Peter kicked off the covers and let his lips be lost against your neck. They nipped, kissed, licked and bit your whole neck, never leaving any mark but testing your limits. He knew where to touch you to make those noise, and he spent his time there. His hot breath hoovering over you was enough to make you come on your panties.

But he didn’t have enough, so he ended up tugging your pants down and off the bed and letting his hand be lost in your pussy. He ran one lazy finger up and down your lips, parting them and creating a delicious friction against your clit.

“Peter – Peter, oh – wait – stop, Peter!” you cried out an pushed his hand away.

Peter’s eyes almost got out of their socket and you saw panic filling his features. He was off you in a second, and what a sight. His hair was messy from tugging too much, t-shirt gone and pyjamas pants holding a tent of its own. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes, begging to yourself to last a big longer.

“Get inside” you moaned, opening your legs again. “Please – please, I need – I need –“

You hadn’t seen Peter move so fast in his life. He was standing in front of you when you blinked, fighting with his pants and boxers at the same time. His erection bobbed up and down until it almost touched his stomach, and you were sure he was as turned on as you.

You were about to take off your t-shirt and mount him yourself when the door was kicked open and both Peter and you screamed.

“Y/N!”

“Peter!”

“Dad!”

“Mr. Stark!”

You didn’t think the mood after not seeing your boyfriend for two weeks could go down so fast, but it did when a very flushed Tony Stark and a totally mortified Steve Rogers opened the door of Peter’s room. You covered yourself the best that you could with Peter’s sheets, and he took the pillow to hide his dick.

“What the hell were you doing?!” Steve screamed, and you had to remind yourself that it wasn’t a good moment to say ‘language’. “What – why are you – Y/N Rogers, you’re so grounded!”

Your father’s face was as red as his shield, only discerning from an apple by the blue and white of his eyes. Tony’s shock seemed to be wearing off, and he was simply leaning against a the wall with a hand covering his evident smile.

“Haven’t you heard of knocking, dad?” you asked, your voice still too high for your liking. “You can’t just burst into someone’s room”

“I can’t – I can’t?!” wrong answer, you guessed. “You can’t do… that! And with him!”

“Mr. Rogers, I – “ Peter tried to talk.

“Shut up” Steve growled, and Peter’s Adam apple bobbed up and down. “Listen to me, you end this right now. And don’t ever expect to see him again.”

“What?!” you let the sheets fall to your lap, exposing your thankfully still covered front. “You can’t do that!”

“You don’t get to say what I can and can’t do!”

“Steve –“ Tony tried.

“I can! You only see me on weekends, I live with mom! You can’t say who I can and I can’t see!”

“Then maybe you will come and live with me” Steve said, and your jaw dropped. “Get dressed. I’ll – “

“Just because mom and you don’t love each other anymore doesn’t mean I can’t love someone!” you screamed out.

The room got silent, and Steve actually paled. The thing about him was that he wasn’t a bad father at all. Your mother had thrown you at him when you were younger, and even if she loved you, you knew that most of the arguments came because she loved to make his life impossible. Steve was patient, loving, funny and cared for you like no one.

But he was also afraid. Afraid of you going to parties, afraid of you getting a sleepover, and afraid of you having a boyfriend. The man had lost so much, that it terrified him that he could lose you too.

For the first time since he had heard the noises in Peter’s room, he got to finally look at you. You had tears in your eyes, your cheeks red and your lips pursed as if when you were going to cry. He knew what a bratty teenager was, and what he saw in your eyes wasn’t the tantrum you throw sometimes when he didn’t let you go somewhere.

He looked at Peter, then. The boy looked even more devastated than you. With just a pillow covering his lower half, Peter was chewing on his lip and looking at Steve lacking all the respect he always had. There was only desperation, and Steve felt bad.

“It’s not about that” Steve whispered, and sighed. Even if he didn’t age like normal people, he felt like greys hair coming out. “How… for how long, you know? This?”

“Three months” you whispered back, and a tear rolled down your cheek. You quickly caught it with your finger, and rubbed a furious fist against your eye.

Steve slumped against the wall, and closed his eyes tightly. There was a headache coming his way, and at full speed. His daughter with Tony’s son protegee, his daughter doing… that with Peter, and his daughter growing up and him being left behind.

“Just – just be careful” Steve made a small grimace and coughed it away. “Say goodbye, we’re leaving. And please… next time lock the door, Parker”

You knew you had to talk about it with your father, that he wasn’t done, but for the moment, he muttered a quick goodbye and left the room. You felt like your heart was beating again. Tony had a smug smile on his face, and rose up from his leaning position too.

“And here I thought you didn’t bring girls home because you were a shy boy” Tony teased, and Peter felt like dying. “We’re talking about this later too, Pete”

With that, Tony left and the door was left ajar behind him. It was silent for a while, until Peter’s knees gave away and he sat beside you in the bed. The pillow fell to the ground and he put his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands. The decision of not saying anything was for the sake of your father, because you wanted to wait until he had everything figured with his feelings for Tony in case he felt obligated to stay away for you.

You raised a hand and placed it on Peter’s shoulder, and you swore he gave a small relief sob. Your suspicious were proven when he finally said something.

“I can’t believe that just happened” he whispered. “I thought I was gonna die”

“We’re not off the hook yet” you joked, and kneeling in bed, pressed a small kiss to his neck. “But for now we’re okay”

“Yeah”

Peter gripped your hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He looked at you sideways, and attempted to smile. It was shaky and hesitant, but it was enough for you. Even if you hadn’t been dating for long, you had known the boy for your whole life, and you didn’t want to think what to do without him.

“I should get going” you muttered, and crawled out of bed. “I don’t want him any angrier”

Peter stood up too, and even if the mood had been killed and felt more like throwing himself off a window, he pressed his lips against yours one last time. Not a second after you had moved your hand to cradle his cheek, a barking voice came from the hallway.

“No more fondue when I’m around!”

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

@delicately-important-trash

@lexxxistrips

@smilexcaptainx

@aikaterrina​

@zalladane​

[dianapocalypse]

Alright y’all, with the release of Mass Effect: Legendary Edition, it’s time for me to share my playlist for the entire trilogy.

I’ve refined this over like six years so scientifically speaking it’s probably good right. oh also it’s four hours long. so if you have a road trip or a boring job, this one’s for you. disclaimer, it’s entirely possible I have garbage taste in music. I also missed some characters and moments because there’s 65 songs here and I am merely human.

If you don’t have the patience for four hours, I recommend starting at track 45 and listening to the end, as the Mass Effect 3 portion is the strongest in my opinion.

UNDER THE CUT FOR DESCRIPTIONS WE GO!

FIRST MOVEMENT - MASS EFFECT 1

1. Atlas - Coldplay Eden Prime

“Sometimes the wire Must tense for the note Caught in the fire, say oh We're about to explode“

I really like the atmosphere of this song. It’s ominous, but also somehow hopeful, and makes me feel like Something Huge Is Coming.

2. I Will Not Sing A Hateful Song - Constantines Paragon Shepard

“But I was also born and raised To always speak and listen clear To know the last sound that I make Could be the last sound that I hear“

OK, listen, I think this song is about vampires, and I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be a metaphor or not. But I think this is a great song about controlling one’s temper, about knowing that you have to Rise Above the parts of you that want to lash out sometimes to get things done and have peace. Seeing as how paragon Shepard, to me, always seems like they’re three deep breaths away from snapping, but manage to keep it in check, it fits them to a T.

And also maybe they’re a vampire.

3. Hard to Kill - Beth Crowley Renegade Shepard

“So I let the rumors Turn me into a legend 'Cause I'm only human But a good myth is hard to kill”

This one’s a recent addition, but holy cow, I love it for Renegade Shep, particularly an Earthborn or Ruthless, but it works for any of them.

4. We Own the Skies - Five Iron Frenzy Joker

“My hands are bleeding where they often crack The stars will sometimes burn with longing Through the choking black Of night shifts piling each against the next”

This really vibes with Joker’s backstory for me, his super driven serious self in flight school, contrasted with who he is when he can fly a ship. He’s the best pilot in the goddamn fleet and I love him.

5. I Just Wanna See - Smash Mouth Kaidan Alenko

“Mister moon checkin' on how y'all livin' The stars all winkin' at the day that's dimmin' I just wanna see”

This song fits into his reactions to first showing up at the Citadel and his former romanticism about living in space. Ironically, it’s a song about Earth, but I feel like it works well for him. Also, Smash Mouth absolutely sounds like the kind of music Kaidan would listen to, no I will not be taking questions or constructive criticism.

6. Don’t Give Up - Noisettes Ashley Williams

“She's got a talented face and a suitcase Ain't got no desire to go no place In her case she's got no desire with her hand in the flame say's she don't feel the fire “

The energy of this song is just perfect for Ashley’s no-nonsense chip on her shoulder attitude.

7. About As Helpful As You Can Be Without Being Any Help At All - Dan Mangan The Council

“I was thrown in the boat/Cast out to sea Friendly with waves/There were sharks below Hungry for me/So I dangled my leg”

I mean, the title says it all.

8. The Captain - Guster Anderson

“Courageous, just like the captain Marching forward with no doubt in his head”

I have adored this song ever since my friend played it for me, and it’s the ultimate mentor-protégé jam for me.

9. Secret Agent Man - Johnny Rivers Garrus Vakarian

“Here's a man who leads a life of danger To everyone he meets he stays a stranger Oh, with every move he makes another chance he takes The odds are he won't live to see tomorrow”

I have to poke a little fun at Garrus and how seriously he takes himself in Mass Effect 1. I romanced him across four playthrus, I’m allowed!

10. I’m Getting Too Old For This Shit - Kill Lincoln Urdnot Wrex

“This random apathy/I swear it's killing me But I guess it's all the same, till the devil knows my name”

I don’t know ANYTHING about this band, but this song fits Wrex’s disillusionment with the Krogan well, plus, like. The title. (And also, that he secretly DOES care what happens to the Krogan.)

11. Bird Song - Juniper Vale Tali’zorah nar Rayya

“I want to dance on the horizon line But there is something I am caged behind I have a heart made for take flight But I'm low, so low”

I adore this song and the sound of Juniper Vale in general. The etherealness of this one, combined with the youthful optimism, feels very Tali. The line about ‘something I am caged behind’ works well for the suits, too. This one’s especially good if you’re a Talimancer!

12. 11. Green Garden - Laura Mvula Liara T’Soni

“And I’ll fly on the wings of a butterfly High as a tree top and down again Putting my bag down, taking my shoes off Walk on the carpet of green velvet”

I really like this song’s vibes and I feel like Liara fits it well, particularly in ME1, before all her youthful optimism is stripped from her. The scenery descriptions feel very Thessia, too.

13. Feed Me (Git It) - Little Shop of Horrors The Thorian 

“The guy sure looks like plant food to me!”

Do you get it. Do you get my joke. It’s because the Thorian is a plant that eats people. (I’m not funny)

14. Blindness - Metric Matriarch Benezia

“I was a blind fool, never complained All the survivors singing in the rain “

I don’t love the use of blind here as a negative, albeit metaphorical, descriptor, but I think this song fits Benezia’s indoctrination and death well. If you have suggestions for another, though, let me know!

15. Technologic - Daft Punk Saren

“Buy it, use it, break it, fix it, trash it, change it, mail, upgrade it”

I just think it’s Neat

16. Watershed - Vienna Teng The Reapers

“ While you were building your empires I was still sleeping”

I think this is the song that inspired the entire playlist. Vienna Teng sat down and decided to write a song from the perspective of a natural disaster, and it’s so ominous and gut-wrenching.

17. Hourglass - The Hush Sound Virmire

“This is how it ends We believe every lie and say we'll be friends How long will it last? Before we scratch all the scripts and we rework the cast “

hahahahah rework the cast get it because you have to pick who DIES

Seriously tho I really like this song for Virmire and that moment of choice that feels like it lasts 100 years on some playthroughts.

18. Pompeii - Bastille The Siege of the Citadel

“ And the walls kept tumbling down In the city that we love”

Throwback to when this song was on the radio like three times an hour. Which is around the time I made the first draft of this playlist, incidentally! It’s such a good Final Battle Jam for the Citadel, and the part about “if you close your eyes/does it almost feel like nothing’s changed at all” I think work really well for Shepard in this sequence. Shepard knew the Reapers were coming, had been fighting them all along; this attack on the Citadel is just retreading familiar territory for them, as horrifying as the war being brought to their doorstep is for the Citadel’s citizens and the council. James Vega has some good dialogue about that kind of thing in ME3.

INTERLUDE THE FIRST

19. Starships - Nicki Minaj The Normandy Crew

Starships were meant to fly Hands up and touch the sky

I like to have a little fun OK

20. Gravity - Yoko Kanno The Death of Commander Shepard

“Am I alone? is somebody there beyond these heavy aching feet still the road keeps on telling me to go on”

Welcome to mood whiplash, it’s my specialty! This is the part where you die. I think it also works for her coma very well, when she’s just drifting between life and death, not sure what’s going on, but something keeps trying to pull her back to the world.

SECOND MOVEMENT - MASS EFFECT 2

21. The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy The Lazarus Project

“Hey young blood, doesn't it feel like our time is running out? I'm gonna change you like a remix Then I'll raise you like a phoenix “

this song has no right to go as hard as it does and if  you think it’s melodramatic shut up

22. My Body Is A Cage - Peter Gabriel Commander Shepard

“I'm living in an age Whose name I don't know Though the fear keeps me moving Still my heart beats so slow “

This works particularly well if you romanced The Virmire Survivor, but this song captures the energy of Shepard freaking out bc they are trapped with Cerberus, because Cerberus rebuilt their body from the ground up. That jarring, caged feeling is so palpable in ME2 that when they gave me back Joker the first time I played, I BURST INTO SOBS from relief.

23. The Lady is a Vamp - The Spice Girls Miranda Lawson

“That's all in the past, legends built to last But she's got something new”

Listen. She’s a bond babe. Handbags, heels and pistols rock. She’s got class. This is a song about Miranda. That is all.

24. Kryptonite - 3 Doors Down Jacob Taylor

“ I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon After all I knew, it had to be something to do with you “

This one’s about the Vibes for me. Also can apply to his past relationship with Miranda. I’m also super showing my age on this song, oof haha.

25. Stable Song - Death Cab For Cutie Colony Abduction

“Rows of deserted houses all Our stable mates highway bound “

I really like the mood of this one for showing up on the very first abducted colony, the eerieness and sadness of it all and Shepard’s resolve to do something about it.

26. Konichiwa Bitches - Robyn Kasumi Goto

“I'm so very hot that when I rob your mansion You ain't call the cops, you call the fire station”

THAT COUPLET ALONE MAKES THE ENTIRE SONG. I love how playful and cheeky it is.

27. Seven Nation Army Glitch Mob Remix - The White Stripes, Glitch Mob Zaeed Massani

“And I'm talking to myself at night Because I can't forget Back and forth through my mind Behind a cigarette”

Pretty sure we all had this on some playlist or another when it came out, and it’s the perfect Badass With A Grudge song.

28. Science is Real - They Might Be Giants Mordin Solus

“ And when a theory emerges Consistent with the facts The proof is with science The truth is with science “

This one actually got added by my wife to replace a song that wasn’t on Spotify, but that has the same energy; Hank Green’s “I Fucking Love Science”. I get more into the emotional side of Mordin in the ME3 section, but I also really just love his Hamster On Coffee energy and this song captures it really well.

29. Prove Yourself - Radiohead Garrus Vakarian

“I can't afford to breathe in this town Nowhere to sit without a gun in my hand Hooked back up to the cathode ray

I'm better off dead “

The absolute rock bottom mental state Garrus is in when you get back to him in ME2 is so heartwrenching. Might not always agree with my boy’s methods, but he’s one of my favorite fictional characters of all time.

30. Rat a Tat - Fallout Boy Feat. Courtney Love Jack

“We are professional ashes of roses, this kerosene's live You settled your score, this is where you come to beg”

It helps that Courtney Love sounds exactly like Jack to me, NGL.

31. Defeat You - Smash Mouth Grunt

“Hey I know what you've done It makes it that much better to defeat you “

Only I am brave enough to put two songs by Smash Mouth on the same playlist, to be shared in 2021

32. The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot - Brand New Horizon/The Virmire Survivor

“If it makes you less sad I will die by your hand Hope you find out what you want Already know what I am “

Hits harder if you romanced the Virmire Survivor. Mostly from Shep’s perspective. This is a Shep that feels Bad after that encounter rather than Mad, so Your Mileage May Vary.

33. Violet Stars Happy Hunting! - Janelle Monae Tali’zorah vas Neema

“I'm an alien from outer space I'm a cyber-girl without a face a heart or a mind”

I just like the vibes of this one for Tali! I know it’s more about an actual AI but...IDK. I like it. So there.

34. Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd Thane Krios

“There is no pain you are receding A distant ship smoke on the horizon”

This song works both on a Literal level with his Kepral’s syndrome struggles, but also Metaphorical re: his Battle Sleep. Plus, Thane is a dad, so he gets Dad Rock.

35. My Medea - Vienna Teng Samara

“For I have made her prison be Her every step away from me And this child I would destroy If you tried to set her free “

Mom of the year award, here

36. Toxic - Britney Spears Morinth

“There's no escape, I can't wait I need a hit, baby, give me it You're dangerous, I'm loving it”

If Morinth weren’t so under-utilized after recruitment and didn’t get killed off in the background of ME3 I’d probably actually recruit her sometimes. I almost did on my most recent playthru bc that Shepard just HATES SPACE COPS. Anyway the song explains itself

37. Turn me On - David Guetta feat. Nicki Minaj EDI/The Collector Attack

“My body needs a hero Come and save me Something tells me you know how to save me”

I know this song is a metaphor but also it works really well both literally and metaphorically for Joker saving EDI

38. Robots - Dan Mangan Legion

“Robots need love too They want to be loved by you “

The Geth just want to live peacefullyyyyyy 

39. Be Still - The Killers Love Interest Theme

“Be still / someday you’ll leave fearlessness on your sleeve”

This song works so well for the night before Omega-4. If you had an ME2 love interest, anyway. Also “fearlessness on your sleeve” is one of my favorite set of words ever written.

40. No Cars Go - Arcade Fire The Omega-4 Relay

“We know a place no spaceships go We know a place where no subs go “

This one’s pretty literal.

41. Rocketman - Elton John Suicide Mission

“ And I think it's gonna be a long, long time 'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find I'm not the man they think I am at home “

I like sneaking some Classics onto my playlists, and I think this is how I generally approach Shepard’s mindset during the Suicide Mission, mostly the chorus. I’m also a sucker for ballads during action sequences. This one isn’t a perfect 1:1 but the Vibes check out.

42. Blast Off - David Guetta feat. Kaz James The Normandy Crew

“Got all my people with me And none of us give a fuck So put dem hands up higher Let's smash this party up”

You have to imagine they partied HARD after recovering from Suicide Mission, but before Shep got arrested, right??? This is the Starships for ME2.

INTERLUDE THE SECOND

43. I’m Not Your Hero - Tegan and Sara Liara T’soni

“ Feeling like I am now lighting up the hall I was used to standing in the shadow of a damaged heart Learning all I know now, losing all I did I never used to feel like I'd be standing so far ahead “

This feels like a good coming of age moment for Liara, as she copes with the choices she made in the 2 years of Shepard’s death (giving them to Cerberus), losing Feron, etc. This is her coming into her own as the Shadow Broker. She’s not meant to be an uncomplicated Big Damn Hero, but she can do good from this position.

44. The Well and the Lighthouse - Arcade Fire The Alpha Relay Incident

“I'm serving time All for a crime I did commit You want the truth? You know I'd do it all again“

These opening lines I feel capture the Alpha Relay Incident really well, and how Shepard did what they HAD to do there, and would do it again, but it still feels like shit. I always wished there was more choice on that mission, but also, having something like that happen without player agency is interesting. Shepard is at their most interesting, I think, in times where we DON’T have a say in what happens to them.

45. Reignite - Malukah Commander Shepard

“Crush my heart into embers, and I will reignite”

Is it cheating to use a Mass Effect fan song on my playlist? I certainly don’t think so, and this is the best Mass Effect fan song ever written.

THIRD MOVEMENT - MASS EFFECT 3

46. This Is War - Thirty Seconds to Mars Leaving Earth

“It's the moment of truth, and the moment to lie The moment to live and the moment to die The moment to fight, the moment to fight To fight, to fight, to fight “

It feels Too Easy to use this here but I’m gonna anyway. You’ve seen AMVs of this set to everything. It’s the ending song of DA:O. It’s the quintessential World At War song.

47. Battleborn - The Killers James Vega

“Up against the wall There's something dying on the street When they knock you down You're gonna get back on your feet”

James Vega is massively underrated and I will love him til I’m cold in the ground. Aro icon.

48. Handlebars - Flobots The Illusive Man

“I can hand out a million vaccinations Or let 'em all die of exasperation Have 'em all healed of their lacerations Have 'em all killed by assassination”

The way this song escalates fits TIM and Cerberus’s fall back into being Just Full On Evil really well. Perfect song for a power trip.

49. Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect - The Decemberists The Virmire Survivor

“And I am nothing of a builder But here I dreamt I was an architect And I built this balustrade To keep you home, to keep you safe From the outside world”

I like this song for how the Virmire Survivor feels about their survivor’s guilt and also about Shepard. I honestly wish they were both more heavily utilized in ME2 and 3, but I realize it’s hard to write a ton of content for characters who just aren’t in half of all peoples’ playthrus.

50. Heaven Knows - The Pretty Reckless Grisson Academy

“One, two, three and four, the devil's knocking at your door Caught in the eye of a dead man's lie Show your life with your head held high“

This song is so perfect for Jack and her biotic kids that she’s one of the only returning characters that gets her own song on this playlist

51. The Great Fire - OK Go Javik

“But when the flames die down, and everything is gone, Will there be fire under the ashes still?”

Self explanatory. Javik is the fire remaining under the ashes.

52. Bring the Hammer Down - Paragon Priority: Tuchanka/Kalros

“ Hammer strikes the anvil A rage that breaks the chain Strikes down like a lightening In our ranks “

KALROOOOOS

53. Wake Up - Arcade Fire Curing The Genophage/Mordin Solus

“If the children don't grow up, Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up. We're just a million little gods causin' rain storms, turnin' every good thing to Rust I guess we'll just have to adjust”

I just really love this song as an image of Mordin’s spirit looking out over Tuchanka as the genophage cure is dispersed, and watching over future generations. If you didn’t cure the genophage, how dare you. No song for you.

Anyway started tearing up listening to this one while writing the description don’t look at me

54. Ballad of a Politician - Regina Spektor Councillor Udina/Priority Citadel 2

“A man inside a room is shaking hands with other men This is how it happens/Our carefully laid plans”

traitor

55. Cyborgs vs. Robots - Ludo The Geth-Quarian War

“But your iron fist will never knock me down 'Cause I'm powered By a conscious right to conduct my life without fear.”

This is probably a bit silly for this awful war. But also. It does fit. You can’t tell me it doesn’t. Just save them both at the end and you can feel fine having some fun with it!

56. Artificial Heart - Jonathan Coulton The Geth

“It's not a real heart It is a real artificial heart”

Just a little fun with the Geth! This works best with Reaper Upgrades.

57. With A Little Help From My Friends - Joe Anderson, Jim Sturgess The Citadel DLC

“What do you see when you turn out the light? I can't tell you, but I know it's mine

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends”

I happen to prefer this version to any other because of how much fun it sounds like they’re having

58. Dark In Here - The Mountain Goats Priority: Earth

“Steal away at sundown, pick a place to hide Check for signs of ambush, hunker down inside Tired of running, tired of never standing still Hear them riding up the hill“

You know I had to get the Goats in here. Would it be a fan playlist if there wasn’t one?

59. Adieu - Yoko Kanno Leaving your Love Interest/Shepard and the Beam

“My love for you burns deep inside me / So strong Embers of times we had And now, here I stand / Lost in a memory I see your face, and smile”

...do I need to say more than that?

60. My Way (Minor Key) - Chase Holfelder The Indoctrination of The Illusive Man

“Regrets, I've had a few/But then again, too few to mention I did what I had to do/I saw it through, without exemption“

This cover takes this song from something I tolerate when I hear it to one of my FAVORITE songs. The frenzied way he sings the “through it all” verse is PEAK Indoctrinated TIM.

61. I’m Alive - Disturbed Refusal 

“There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice To change myself, I'd rather die/Though they will not understand”

Honestly I didn’t “get” the Refusal ending until I heard this song, then I was like, OH, I SEE IT ALL SO CLEARLY NOW. This is my favorite in-universe Shepard take on the Refusal ending. I always got it from the player’s perspective of being dissatisfied with the options, but this one puts it into the world for me. This is a Shepard who does not trust the Starchild. This is a Shepard that chooses to end things on their own terms rather than submit to their designs.

62. Machine - Regina Spektor Control 

“I collect my moments Into a correspondence With a mightier power Who just lacks my perspective And who lacks my organics And who covets my defects “

I used to have Adieu here, actually, because like Refusal, I didn’t used to GET the Control ending. Now, I do, in part thanks to hearing this song. I mean, just go look at the full lyrics. If this song hadn’t been written years before the end of Mass Effect 3, I’d swear it was a fan song for it.

63. Maybe Tomorrow - Yuki Kajiura Destroy 

“The moon is gone And the night is still so dark I'm a little bit afraid of tomorrow“

I’m a Destroy Ending person, I won’t lie. Full on “the starchild is a liar and my synthetic friends are FINE” indoctrination theory level destroy ending. But this song is not about that. It’s about the canonical destroy ending, and if you prefer a Shep that survives it, this song’s for you.

This song captures the exhaustion and melancholy of the end of a long journey so well. Shepard is afraid of what comes next, the collateral damage resulting from their actions. But they know that, at least, it’s over now. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

64. Waiting For the End - Linkin Park Synthesis

“ I know what it takes to move on I know how it feels to lie All I wanna do is trade this life for something new Holding on to what I haven't got”

This is one of my favorite songs of all time. The hardest part of ending is starting again. Oof. Gets me every single time. Shepard finding the resolve to sacrifice themself for the hope of something better, of things not going how they planned, ever, of learning to make peace with that and the people who loved them learning to carry on without them? OOF.

65. Shine - Vienna Teng Epilogue

“Shine with all the untold Hold the light given unto you Find the love to unfold In this broken world we choose“

Vienna Teng is a master of capturing life’s softer emotions, and this fits perfectly with the epilogue scene for me. Tell me again about the Shepard.

“Find the love to unfold in this broken world we choose” has to be one of the greatest lines about the human experience ever written.

[starkerforlife6969]

To Be a Widow Part 2

starker, winter spider thanks again to the wonderful @wandering-night19 

Peter’s past three husbands have all died under suspicious circumstances. Detective Stark was convinced that pretty Peter had something to do with it, but more and more lately, Peter’s dangerously loyal butler Bucky has become his prime suspect..read the OG post here and my part 1 to this here 

The ropes binding him are impeccably knotted. No doubt, then, that Barnes has done this before.

It doesn’t stop him from testing them, from flexing his wrists and seeing if there’s any give at all, any sort of slack, any sign from God that he’s looking out for the loveable genius that is Detective Tony-

“Stark’s a liability.” Barnes hisses, voice tight and furious, even as his hands wrap bandaging over Peter’s wrist. Tony had barely even scratched him in his attempt to flee, but Bucky trails his fingers over Peter’s skin like he’s handling some precious gem, some delicate flower.

Peter sits on the edge of his bed, swinging his feet and humming. “I think we can reign him in.” 

Bucky kisses Peter’s now bandaged wrist, slipping down onto one knee like a knight before his King. “He hurt you.” He beseeches quietly, almost a whine, an attack dog, a wolf, desperate to avenge his master.

Peter strokes his fingers through Barnes’ hair, soothing, the same move he used on Tony. “James...”

“Just let me-” he cuts off, a shuddering whimper, and Tony frowns, straining to see and- ah. Peter’s slipper clad foot is pressed into Bucky’s groin. 

Tony feels hot under the collar, and he pulls hard on the restraints once more. Something creaks at the back of the chair and he freezes, but those honey eyes are on him. Peter smiles.

“James wants to hurt you, Tony,” Peter sighs, fingers tugging at Bucky’s hair, loving but firm. “He’s very protective of me, you know.”

“Yeah,” Tony pants, “I guessed as much.” There’s no getting out of his through brute force. Even if he managed to get out of the rope, Barnes has got a few feet on him, and Peter’s spry and nimble and surprisingly strong. “So,” if in doubt, talk it out, “you two are...”

“It’s not so much about us,” Peter drawls, “it’s much more about me. I’m trying to expand my business, Detective.”

“What business?”

“B Enterprises.”

“Never heard of them.”

Peter beams at that, getting to his feet, long silk robe of red trailing after him. He heads over to his desk, covered in important looking documents and lethal, heavy paper weights. He pours himself some scotch and toasts Tony. “Exactly. We operate in a...” Peter muses for a moment, “in a less than official capacity, I’ll admit. But we needed money. I got us some.”

“You’ve killed three people-”

“I haven’t killed anyone, Tony.” He hums sweetly. “But of course, all that aside, we do have a bit of problem now, don’t we?”

Tony swallows hard. “You gonna kill me?”

“Nonsense.” Peter waves him off, “I propose we all sleep on it. James?”

Tony barely has a second to register the grin on Bucky’s face, before he’s being hit by something blunt.

***

In the morning, sunlight trickles in.

It appears the cold spring has left then, and the beginning a of new summer threatens.

Tony blinks the black spots out of his vision, body aching. He’s still in Peter’s bedroom, still bound to a chair in the corner of the lavishly furnished master suite. Peter’s fast asleep, chest rising and falling, the height of comfort, no fear or concern creased into his angelic face.

Tony jerks when he realises Bucky is standing no less than two feet away from him: watching. 

“Jeez,” Tony mutters into the quiet, trying to slow his pulse, “do you not sleep?”

“I will rip you apart.” Bucky whispers, looking like a spring about to burst.

Okay, maybe another way out. Not brute force, but finding a groove and digging. He can do that. “Sure,” he nods, “except pretty boy won’t let you. Keeps that leash on pretty tight, huh?”

Bucky says nothing to that, but his eyes are ice blue. Piercing. 

Tony prods a little more. “You know, just because he didn’t have a physical hand in the killings doesn’t mean we can’t convict. We can still-”

He words are cut off suddenly when Bucky’s hand wraps around his throat, air immediately deprived, he starts to panic, can barely hear Bucky hissing into his ear. “You ever even dare hurt him I will rip you into pieces, I will-”

“Oh, James,” comes a sleepy sigh, and Tony’s dropped like he burns Bucky’s hands, gasping, choking for air, looking over to see Peter sitting up, curls a mess, adorable and defenceless. He looks like a kitten. “What did I say? I said: try not to kill our guest.”

Barnes looks like he wants to do nothing more than rip Tony’s head right off his shoulders. 

Peter holds out his arms, wiggling his fingers, and Bucky goes, led by a siren, into Peter’s warm embrace.

***

Breakfast is a very dignified affair.

Tony’s unbound, but Bucky stands in front of the only door, a gun at his waist.

Peter is in black satin, shoes like polished opals, lips cherry red. The table is laden with food: bright, vibrant pieces of fruit, pinks to oranges to ocean-blues, and Tony doesn’t dare move to serve himself, so sits with an empty plate, watching Peter place a few blueberries into his own bowl. 

“Please, Tony,” Peter purrs, “help yourself.” 

There’s no trembling now. Peter’s completely at ease. Certain. The frailness from yesterday is gone. He’s strong, nimble, elegant. Tony pokes at a piece of pear, but doesn’t eat it. 

“I’d hoped we could speak openly today, Detective. About a constructive way forward for all of us.”

Tony lifts his eyebrows. “I thought there was only one way out. You threaten to have your lackey over there kill me if I ever tell the truth.”

“Well, there’s no need for that,” Peter murmurs, popping a strawberry into his mouth. “You can tell anyone you like. Stories are just that, after all. From what I can tell, you haven’t a shred of evidence against me.”

“The books-”

“Gone now. An oversight. Thank you for alerting me.”

Tony smiles without humour. “Fine. So I have no proof. You’ll just let me go?”

“Well, I’d rather we left things on a more friendly note,” Peter pouts, long lashes batting oh-so-sweetly. “After all, Detective, I thought your desire for me was overwhelming you. A kind of madness, didn’t you call it?”

Tony can feel his cheeks heat, but he refuses to be ruffled. “A momentary lapse in judgement.”

“Really?” Peter sighs, reaching under the table, touching Tony’s knee. “That’s disappointing. I feel there’s a lot I could offer you.”

He refuses to get aroused. Refuses to react. “No, thank you.” He says curtly. “There’s nothing you have that I want.”

At that, Peter laughs. Melodic and triumphant. “Well now, I don’t think that’s quite true. I’m sure you’re used to being the smartest person in the room, Detective, but I’m afraid with me around, you might have to settle for second place. You can read people? As can I. You crave control. I can give you that- or, at least the allusion of it.”

He hates how he feels intrigued. Like a puppet with an invisible master. 

Peter’s voice drops into a whisper. “I could submit to you so sweetly. All yours for you to take whenever, however you want. In return....perhaps you don’t spread those nasty, baseless rumours about me. Perhaps you leave my tragic case alone. Along with any other tragedies that might befall me.”

Tony wants to laugh. Wants to mock Peter at using his body as his bargaining chip but he wants. He wants that. Wants to feel that body beneath him, he wants-

“I could play love with you, Detective,” Peter offers, more gentle, and he reaches out to take Tony’s hand, twining their fingers together. “I could be a widow, shaken, unsure if love is for me after all, but then you...you change that.” His honey eyes fill with tears. “Oh, Detective Stark. Thank you for keeping me safe, I’m so-so grateful.” Peter grins, and Tony realises he’s leaned in, holding hands tightly. “You could hold me. Play house with me, from time to time. I’ll make dinner, dance with you, I’m very good at playing pretend, Tony.”

Tony gapes, words stuck in his throat. The kid’s a master. An actor. Sliding into each role.

But he can feel danger along the back of his neck, and he turns to see Bucky, barely contained in his jealousy.

Peter takes Tony’s chin and guides his eyes back to him. “James won’t hurt you, Tony,” he promises, “he’s just protective, that’s all.”

“You play pretend with him too?”

Peter’s mouth lifts into a smile, and Tony hates the audible jealousy in his own voice. “No, Tony,” he murmurs, a beautiful lie, “I only play pretend with you.”

***

Bucky grits his teeth watching as Tony walks down the drive and gets into his car. As soon as he’s gone, he hurries upstairs to the master bedroom. 

Peter is stretched out on the bed like a pleased cat, naked, covered in red marks. 

Bucky wants to howl. He immediately gets a wash cloth and some warm water, cleaning Peter up. 

Peter spreads his lily-white thighs further apart, and Bucky groans at the sight. 

“He was rough with you.” Bucky whimpers, swiping in gentle strokes, fumbling to soothe any aches. 

“Only because I let him be,” Peter reminds, looking at Bucky over his shoulder, pink lips curving into a smile. “We can take him out whenever we like, sweetheart.”

“But you won’t.” Bucky mutters, two fingers sliding into Peter’s little hole. Gentle and soothing. “You like him.” It’s an accusation. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “I like being adored, James. That’s hardly a surprise, is it?”

“But...”

“Are you feeling left out?” Peter pouts, teasing. “You want to be the one to rule me, is that it? No,” he looks him up and down, and Bucky bares himself to the gaze. Wants to be seen. “No,” Peter nods again, “you want to wrap me up in cotton wool. Keep me safe, don’t you?”

Yes. Bucky thinks desperately, nodding hard. Yes, that’s what he wants. 

“He was so rough with me,” Peter hiccups, going pliant and soft into the bed sheets, slipping into Bucky’s favourite role. “Hurt me, Buck, he hurt me. Will you make it better?” He cants his hips up invitingly. “Please?”

Bucky leans down, eager, kissing down Peter’s spine, tongue finding-

“Oh!” Peter gasps, clutching at the bed sheets, “that feels-”

Yes. Bucky thinks, holding the boy’s hips, making him feel good. This is what he wants. This is what he’ll always want. 

And he’ll do anything to keep it. 

Tagging: @plueschpop @thestarkerisobvious @fogdog1738 @icandoakickflip @starker-stories @yeehawmyoatmeal @starker-prompt-dump @goldenmogar @everyonelovespetey @starkerintheparker @prettieststarker @itsrachael @silkystark @deliciousflapbanditfarm @prettyboy-parker @starkerrifics @angelstarker @firefandoming

[only-the-lou]

party night

Sooo turns out that i didnt fully finish my last story! Sooo here’s my attempt into putting the whole thing here :)

-

-

-

-

It was the end of finals week, and Peter couldn't be more happy. He had spent the last 2 weeks pulling all nighters cramming as much information as he could into his brain so that he could pass his tests. Sure he was really smart and he didn't really need to study, but that didn't stop Peter from worrying about failing one of his classes. But now that all that was over, he couldn't wait to just relax. He can finally get some decent hours of sleep, actually eat something healthy, and take care of himself. He had decided to call work off for the next two days, and was determined to sleep as much as he could because right now he looked like death, with his pale skin and eye bags so heavy you could put groceries in them. He knew he looked horrible, but he also knew that if he didn't get good grades he could get his scholarships taken away. He only had one more year of high school though, and then he wouldn't have to worry about this stuff for a while, So right now he would work his ass off so that he can have a good life in the future.

It was around 8 at night when Peter heard knocking on his apartment door. He was slightly confused, since he didn't remember inviting anyone over, and his food was already delivered. He put his phone down and walked over to the entrance, not having a chance to fully open his door before MJ and Ned busted right in.

"What 's up loser?" MJ said. She walked last Peter and into the kitchen, and helped herself into Peter's fridge. Ned walked in behind her and sat down onto his couch.

"Hey guys! What are you doing here?" Peter questioned. He wasn't expecting the two, but he also wasn't surprised that they showed up unannounced since they did that often. He closed his door and locked it before he made his way to the living room. He walked to his couch and plopped down next to ned and pulled out his phone.

"Well, it's a Saturday night, you have nothing to do, and there's a party over at Liz's house. So me and Ned decided to come pick you up so that we can have some fun!" MJ explained. She was currently opening up bag of Doritos and had decided to look for a soda.

"A party? Since when do you like going to parties?" Peter asked. MJ was usually the type to stay home and watch Netflix or read. Parties weren't her thing, so Peter was confused when she decided to go to one.

"Well, it is our last year before graduation and our last chance to relax before the second rounds of finals!" Ned chimed. He wasn't wrong, it was their senior year in highschiol and this was going to be their last week before they had to bury themselves in books and cry about life. MJ nodded, and Peter decided that this was going to be his way of taking care of himself.

"Alright. Lemme get ready and I'll meet you guys downstairs" Ned squealed and MJ high fived Peter. They walked out of Peter's apartment while Peter walked towards his room already planning out the night.

-

30 minutes later Peter rushed out of his apartment and ran down the stairs to meet his friends. He had decided on some torn black skinny jeans (that made his booty look bigger) and a plain white button up. He usually didn't wear makeup, but he had decided to leave his insecurities behind and did some light eyeliner with mascara and some lipgloss. He couldn't lie, he felt good about himself, something that was very rare. Just as he was going to leave the apartment he decided to bring his lighter and some blunts he was planning on smoking earlier and made sure that he had everything he needed before heading out.

Just as he was in his last set of stairs he heard MJ whistle and Ned compliment his eyeliner. He smiled and blew a kiss towards Ned and winked. MJ was on her phone texting Liz and letting her know that they were on their way while walking towards her car.

"Actually, do you guys mind if we walk? Her house isn't even far away. Plus, we can smoke on the way there." Peter asked. MJ and Ned nodded, and Peter pulled out a blunt and his lighter from his back pocket. He didn't usually smoke, and neither did the other two, but fuck it, tonight was all about having fun.

The trio decided to smoke as they walked to Liz's house, so they arrived there quicker. The music was so loud you could probably hear it blocks away, and by the time Peter had reached the house he could feel the music's vibrations in his chest. He liked it though, the familiar feeling of excitement coursing through his veins. The front lawn was filled with teenagers holding red cups, couples making out, and those people who partied a little too hard and passed out. Peter chuckled as he looked at them. Lightweights. The house itself was actually quite beautiful. It was big, with three pillars on the front and with 8 rectangular windows on the front part. It was a creamy white, looking homey if it wasn't for the blasting music and the lights inside.

The three were almost done with the 5th blunt and Peter tossed it to the floor and stepped on it to put it out. He could feel the drug start to take its effects, and so when he turned to see his friends he felt like laughing. The other two where getting high as well, so they also started giggling.

They walked in and were hit with the smell of beer, weed, and sweat. They didn't care though, too busy trying to go through the crowds of people to notice. Peter looked around to see if he knew anyone, and quickly noticed two guys whom he was sure didn't go to his school because no one was that hot in queens bay high. Peter sucked in a breath as he checked them out, too stunned but their beauty to notice Ned pulling his arm to walk. He practically got dragged to the kitchen by his friend, and when he looked back the pair were already lost.

"Damm it Ned, I was checking out two- oh hey Liz!" Peter smiled, forgetting about the two boys back there and He leaned in for a hug and kissed her on the cheek. Liz giggled and hugged him back, and fixed her dress.

"Hi guys! Glad you could make it. Theres snacks right over there and some beers! Make yourself at home babes!" She smiled. Peter looked at her outfit, wearing a red dress that went down to her knees and some black heels. She looked beautiful, and even though Peter was really gay, he would still date her. Ned hugged her and went directly into the snack table, and MJ quickly followed. She was too shy to hug her, although she was been crushing on Liz for the longest time. It was quite adorable Peter though, MJ being so bold around anyone but as soon as she sees Liz she completely melts. They would be a really cute couple, if it weren't for MJ's awkwardness around her.

He talked to Liz for a couple of minutes before hugging her again and walking towards the drinking section. He has decided on some vodka, and grabbed a soda to mix it with. He walked over to his two friends and leaned against the fridge.

"So, what's the plan?" Peter asked. Ned shrugged and MJ kept eating some chips, and Peter realized that their idea of a party was to stay near the snack area. He shook his head and smiled, telling them that he was gonna go out and dance.

"If you're gonna get fucked someone don't forget to use protection!" Ned hollered. Peter laughed and told him 'no promises!' knowing that he was going to use it. He wasn't planning on catching an STD, and even though it didn't feels as good, he didn't wanna get infected.

He walked around the crowds of people and bumped into a much taller male. Luckily he didn't drop his drink, or else it would've caused Peter to go of on the other person. He looked up to see who it was, and to his luck it was one of the guys who he was checking out earlier. He was tall and had shoulder length hair which holy shit made him look more hotter and was wearing all black.

"S-sorry I wasn't looking where I was going" Peter stuttered. The other male chuckled and Peter felt like he died right there. He was usually confident and bold, but that clearly went away when he saw the taller male. Must've been the alcohol, or the weed, or both.

"It's okay princess, no need to apologize. I'm Bucky by the way." Bucky extended his hand towards Peter, and it took a second for him to register what was going on, but quickly shook Buckys hand. The size difference in their hands was huge, making Peter feel smaller, and blushed. "I'm Peter. You don't go to queen bay right ?" He asked. Bucky shook his head and explained to him that his friend Tony was invited to this party and practically dragged him here. So that's the other guys name.

"And uh, what about you?" Bucky asked. Peter told him how he was going to spend the night with his two other friends, but they decided that food was more important. Bucky chuckled and Peter died yet again, suddenly aware that he was in heaven and Bucky was an angel leading him to the paradise because there is no way someone so perfect could exist. That's what he had thought until Buckys friend, Tony walked up to them and smiled at Peter. Peter smiled back and tried so say something, but was too scared that he was going to sound pathetic. He looked at Tony's outfit, similar to Bucky but instead of a leather jacket he was wearing a blue jean jacket with a white shirt and black jeans. Both of them looked so handsomely good, and Peter decided right then and there that he wanted both of them.

Peter was now very sure that he was high and drunk as shit, because his normal self would never dance on a guy (let alone 2) like he was doing right now, His dignity flying out the window as soon as he turned around and started moving his ass in front of Tony. He still didn't care when Tony grabbed his hips to close the gap between his crotch and Peter ass, and he didn't care when Bucky was in front of Peter and started kissing his neck. He didn't give two flying shits, too focused on trying not to moan when Bucky started biting his neck. He moved his hand to Buckys neck and tangled his fingers in his neck, softly gripping it whenever Bucky started sucking at his neck.

Peter didn't really remember how or when he ended up in a bedroom, or if he even was in the same house as before. All he remembered was dancing with Tony and partially making out with Bucky, and then he ended up in here. Not that he was complaining, because he really fucking wasn't, but he was just caught off guard. He suddenly stopped thinking about that when he felt Tony's lips against his own, somehow rough and gentle at the same time. He bit Peter's bottom lip, and Peter couldn't help but groan. He was suddenly aware that he was on top of Tony, his legs on either side of him p, with Tony's hands grasping on his hips, pushing him down to rock on Tony's crotch. The both of them groaned at the same time, getting pleasure from the friction. He decided to do it again, rolling his hips against Tony's, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

He didn't see how Bucky was looking at both of them from the doorframe, and didn't hear when he closed the door and locked it. He slowly made his way to the bed, and decided to get in on the action.

He saw Bucky laying on the bed, and he kissed tony one last time while getting off his lap, crawling towards Bucky, and got on top of him. He leaned down to kiss Bucky, running his hands down Buckys chest. Bucky then broke the kiss, and flipped them over so that he was on top, and started taking his shirt off. Suddenly Peter noticed that the three of them were fully dressed, and starting taking off his shirt too. He couldn't really see Tony, but he hoped that he was getting undressed as well. Once Bucky and Peter were just in boxers, Bucky leaned back down and started kissing peters neck. He found peters sweet spot and Peter big his lip to not let out a moan.

"You sure you wanna do this ?" Bucky asked. "You don't have to if you don't want, babe." Tony said. And although Peter wasn't sure if it was him or the alcohol speaking, Peter looked at both of the innocently and bit his lip. He saw how Buckys eyes flickered over to his lips and smirked, and he knew he was in for a long, fun night.

—

So there you go! Sorry it's really bad :( I'm not the most experienced writer haha 😃

[winnipegpatty]

to all the boys i’ve loved before [pt. vii] | s.m. series

a/n: one more chapter left!!! woo! so happy y’all have enjoyed this so far! catch up on the other parts in my masterlist!

“Oh my god, you’re home!” Sofia practically pounced on me the second I walked through the front door.

I laughed at my younger sister, but was a little more focused on the fact that my home looked different than when I left it two days ago. The entire home was decked out in Christmas gear. Garland adorned the stair rail, the giant tree was up in the entryway, the stockings were hung by the chimney, their Christmas family photos replaced the normal photos. I wandered away from Sofia for a moment, just taking in each room. I don’t know about you, but Christmas time makes me feel different. You ever just have that one thing that makes you feel a certain way? Like it just makes you feel more free, or happier, or excited somehow. Despite there really being virtually nothing different about the days leading up to the event than any other days? That was Christmas for me. The songs, the lights, the stories, the presents. It all just made me feel loved, happy, at home.

“You did all of this, Sof?”

“Well…” Sof drug out in the suspicious way she does when she thinks she’s being sneaky about something.

I turned around to look at Sofia, to see what she was hiding, when I heard from the staircase, “Hey sister.”

I looked up to see Ari looking down at us, smiling.

I squealed, in that obnoxious way girls do, and ran to my sister, pulling my arms around her tightly. “Oh my god, you’re home early!”

Ari just nodded, “Yep, finished my finals early.”

“I missed you so much,” I whispered into her hair, needing a big sister right about now.

“I missed you,’ she answered, welcoming Sof into our hug.

Later in the evening we were making chocolate chip cookies, just us girls. It felt good, it felt like my life had been righted somehow. Something so desperately important had been missing, but now was back where it should be. It felt good. Like old times. Times before a complicated fake relationship and awkward best friends.

“Tell us about England!” Sof asked.

“Okay, well,” Ari said, leaning forward like she was about to spill massive secrets, “Even when it’s freezing outside the girls still wear the shortest dresses and like no coats. They really do drink tea like four times a day, it wasn’t an over exaggeration. Driving on the left side of the road, is so weird. And everything is just really, really beautiful. The architecture is astounding, it’s just unlike anything you’ll ever see here.”

“Are you going to invite Josh over for dinner?” Sof asked quietly.

Ari sighed, “Why don’t we make it a girls night.”

“Plus dad,” Sof said.

“Girls night, plus dad. Just family.”

“Guess that means you can’t invite Shawn,” Sof said turning to me.

“Shawn?” Ari said right as there was a knock on the door.

“Uh, I should go get that,” I muttered, walking over to the door.

And of course, in true Shawn Mendes fashion, there he stood at my doorstep, looking like that lost puppy that he is when he is upset.

“Y/N, we need to talk.” He said firmly.

“Not here,” I whispered, pushing myself out the door and into the front yard. There was safety in distance from the house, right?

“Just so you know,” Shawn started rushed, “Nothing happened between me and Gen last night.”

“No, what happened, is that you went to her room in the first place! Right after you were with me, really?” I said completely hurt by what he’d done to me.

“Look, Gen and I dated for a long time, those feelings and that friendship doesn’t just go away overnight. We have history,” Shawn said, like that somehow made it okay.

“Well, I’m tired of being second best, or fake best, or whatever this is!”

“No, no, no,” Shawn rushed, grabbing for my hand, “You do not get it. Last night was--”

“Last night was a mistake,” I finished for him. “Look physical stuff may not be important or a big deal to you, but it is for me. And the fact that I even spent that time with you, was a big deal to me. You telling me you wanted to be my real boyfriend, Shawn that was a big deal to me. That was supposed to mean something.”

“Who says that it’s not a big deal to me, Y/N?” Shawn was beginning to get frustrated and it showed in the way he was starting to crawl into himself and retreat a bit, already feeling defeated.

“Says every single guy on the bus!” I raised by voice, “They’re just clapping and praising you like a god, and you’re just eating it up. And you didn’t even correct anyone, even though you know we didn’t even have sex! I went into your room to hang out. The only people who know that are you and me, and you let everyone believe it was for something else!”

“Okay, look I-”

“Shawn, just leave.” I said, resigned.

“Can we please, just go inside and talk about this, Y/N?”

“She asked you to leave, buddy,” I heard Josh’s voice behind me.

Great, just what I needed. A Josh Sanderson with a hero complex.

“Josh, go back inside,” I said trying to fend him off.

“No, it’s alright,” Josh said.

“No, no, no, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Shawn practically yelled. “Are you serious right now?” He asked looking at me. I looked at Shawn, then at Josh, a bit confused. “This isn’t about me and Gen at all, is it? This is about you and him. This is the reason you broke up with me? You’re really still in love with him?” Shawn spewed angrily.

“If Y/N broke up with you,” Josh spat right back, “It’s probably because she realized that you’re a monumental waste of time, and she’s finally come to the life altering revelation that she’s too good for you!”

“You’re in love with Josh?” I heard Ari’s voice from the door, who stood next to Sof, looking completely heart broken.

This day really could not have gone worse.

“Ari, no.” I said, running to my sister, but she was already inside the house, slamming the door in my face. I turned to both of the boys behind. Both whom were seeming like monumental wastes of time, to use Josh’s words. “Shawn, go home!”

Shawn looked tired and sad, running a hand through his hair. “God, Y/N you were never second best,” he said as last attempt before turning and returning to his Jeep.

In his absence, only Josh remained.

“I didn’t even know she was home,” Josh whined, always the lovesick puppy for Ari.

“Yeah, she came home early.” I muttered. “It was a surprise.”  

__

Well, at least the worst is over. I’m getting rid over everything. The contract, every romance novel I’ve ever laid eyes on, the works. Love is a fucking scam, and I’m done.

My phone dinged, and I had half a heart to ignore it until I saw Chris’ name appear.

Chris: Is this you!?

Attached was a video of me and Shawn making out in the hot tub, it was all over instagram.

__

I knocked on Ari’s door.

“I’m busy.” She said, as she was unpacking a suitcase.

“Please.  I need your help.”

Ari relented, and so I told her everything. Sat on her bed, I finally told my sister the truth. About the letters. About Shawn. About the contract and the ski trip. Everything. And then finally, I showed her the instagram video.

“Well,” Ari sighed, “You’re completely covered up, and we only see your back. So if you hadn’t been tagged, really it could have been everyone. Really, it’s worse for Shawn than it is for you.”

“It’s never worse for the guys,” I muttered as I fell back onto Ari’s bed. “I am so stupid.”

“We’re gonna fix this.” Ari said, like the perfect big sister.

“I accidentally made a sex tape, and you feel bad for me. That’s the only reason why you’re helping me. You must hate me right now.”

“I do feel bad for you,” Ari said, “but I’m just trying to figure out why you didn’t tell me all of this was happening in the first place?”

“I was lying to everyone in my life, and I knew I couldn't lie to you. Trust me, I wanted to be able to talk to you about it.”

“I thought you didn’t need me anymore!”

“Are you kidding me? Ari, look what happened while you were gone!” A few tears fell down my cheeks as I croaked out, “I made a sex tape, and I haven’t even had sex!”

“Come here,” Ari said, as she pulled me into a hug.

As I opened my eyes, I saw Sof standing at the door, and laughed. “How long have you been there?”

Ari turned to look at Sof.

“Not long,” she said, before caving quickly, “Long.”

She joined us on the bed, once again joining into our hug.

“Okay, time to make a covey sisters pact.” Ari spoke, like the true big sister. “No more secrets.”

“But…” Sof said quietly, “I have a secret.”

Ari and I looked towards her expectantly.

Sofia took a deep breath, “I sent the letters.”

My eyes flew wide, “I’m going to kill you.”

I lunged across the bed at her, and quickly Sofia and I were in an all out battle for blood.

“I knew you were lonely, and I could tell Peter liked you!” Sofia hollered as she hid behind a chair for protection.

“Don’t hurt her!” I heard Ari holler.

“Why would you send all five!?” I screamed lunging for the chair, ripping it away as she skidded towards the bed.

“I thought five chances at a boyfriend were better!”

I jumped onto the bed just as Sof fell off the bed and quickly crawled towards the closet, closing herself in.

“Alright! Back down!” Ari said, standing between me and the closet door.

“Look, her logic was off,” Ari said, “But her heart was in the right place!”

“Her face is gonna be in the wrong place, pretty soon,” I said as I pushed into Ari, to get to the door.

“Y/N, before you murder our sister,” she pushed me away from the door again. I stood with my arms crossed over my chest. “Could I ask you a question?” I rolled my eyes, but allowed her to continue. “If you really truly didn’t want the letters to be sent, why did you address them?”

“I didn’t put a stamp on them,” I stuttered.

Ari rolled her eyes, arms still held out towards me, in case I made another try on Sofia’s life. “Can we agree, that maybe don’t want everything in your life to be fantasy?”

“Maybe,” I mumbled.

“So,” Ari said, as Sof ventured to open the closet door, peaking out. “If I can forgive you for writing my boyfriend a love letter, can you maybe forgive Sof for sending them?”

I eyes Sof, “You owe me braid crowns for the rest of your life.”

Sofia sighed, “Oh thank god, I was really hoping to make it to seventh grade.”

__

It didn’t feel like Christmas when I knew my hot tub escapades had gone viral, but of course Ari knew just what to do. She anonymously emailed instagram to have them take down the video under child pornography laws. I couldn’t believe I had accidentally dabbled in porn before losing my virginity, but it’s been a strange year all around.

“Congrats, you’re officially PG-13 again.” Ari said, handing me my phone back.

I looked at it, to see a picture of Shawn and I cuddling together on the couch. That photo had been just for us. Not for instagram or snapchat. Not to make Josh or Gen jealous. It was just the two of us, being real.

“I guess I should change my background,” I whispered.

“You could,” Ari said, “Or you could talk to him.”

tagged: @peacedolantwins2 @rosecth @honestlygarbage @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @justanotherfangurl272 @mcufangirlqueen @my-sweet-escape-from-the-world

[haberdashing]

Three’s A Crowd

Into the Spider-Verse fic. Noir’s relationship with Ham becomes complicated when he grows attached to a man from his own dimension.

Inspired by this text post.

on AO3

Spider-Noir was surrounded by a group of Nazis who seemed intent on cornering him in a dimly-lit alleyway. It was a battle of one against several, and every time he punched out the lights of one Nazi, another one would rise up and take a swing at him.

A pretty typical evening for him, really.

A few blows landed with more force than he would have liked, but he could handle it. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before. He’d probably have half the details of the fight forgotten by the next morning.

What Noir hadn’t expected, however, was for a nice-looking man in a suit to see what was going on and join the fray rather than walk on by and pretend he hadn’t seen anything.

As the stranger reached into his pocket and slipped on a pair of brass knuckles, Noir wasn’t entirely sure which side the other man would be on. He hadn’t noticed his Spider-Sense increase upon the man’s appearance, but given that it was nearly overwhelming him as it was, that didn’t mean much. Noir watched the stranger carefully, ready to take him on if need be-

And watched as the stranger delivered a solid left hook into the jaw of one of the Nazis.

Noir nodded slightly in approval, and without sharing a word, the two men began to work together to tackle the threat in front of them.

Noir could have handled the fight himself, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t deny that it was nice to have a bit of help all the same. It meant a few less hits landing on him, a few less aches and pains he’d have to contend with throughout the night.

As the fight drew to a close, with all of the Nazis that had attacked Noir left unconscious, webbed into immobilization, or both, Noir turned towards the stranger that had fought alongside him.

The man extended a hand in his direction. “I’m John.”

Some small part of Noir wanted to reciprocate the gesture, to tell John his own first name, but the rest of him knew better than to share such important information with someone who was practically a stranger. Information like that always came with a cost, and even if this John really did mean well, it would be better for everyone involved if he knew as little as possible about Noir’s true identity, just in case.

“Spider-Man.” Noir took John’s hand. His grip was firm, but not overly so; his hand was warm, but not sweaty. The man knew how to give a good handshake.

John looked into Noir’s eyes- or, rather, the eyes of his suit- as he deadpanned, “Never would have guessed.”

Noir didn’t laugh, but the tips of his mouth did curl ever so slightly upward.

After they were reunited, after they had obtained a means of inter-dimensional travel that didn’t come with the risk of their cells violently glitching and dying in the process, the other spider-people had started to refer to their group as the “Spider-Family”, or “Spider-Fam” for short.

Noir wasn’t so sure he bought into that idea.

Okay, so Miles, Gwen, and Peni would be the kids of this supposed family, which made some sense to him, even as the three protested that they were mature and capable and didn’t need to be babied by the older members of their group. And Noir supposed that he could see Peter B. as the brother he’d never had, in a way.

But Noir’s feelings about Spider-Ham weren’t familial in the slightest.

They were... different.

The two had never outright talked about it, had never put a word to this strange attraction between them, but when it came time to rest the two always ended up side by side, body pressed into body, the feeling warm and soothing and right.

John had a knack for showing up when Noir was in the middle of a tough fight. If he hadn’t known better, Noir could have sworn that the man had a Spider-Sense of his own.

The second and third time they bumped into one another, they shared a table at a local coffee shop afterwards.

The fourth time the two met, they rented a hotel room nearby, though they both returned home well before dawn.

But it wasn’t until the fifth time that Noir and John came face-to-face, after Noir invited John up to his apartment, that the two really got a chance to talk.

Noir let loose a few things. That his name was Peter (though John still preferred to call him “Spidey”). That when he wasn’t Spider-Man, he was a private eye. That he was lonely. That last one almost felt like a lie, after he had gotten to know the other spider-people better, gotten to know Ham better, but loneliness had been ground into his soul for a long time now, and a handful of meetings with kindred spirits from other dimensions wasn’t enough to change that.

John let loose a few things, too. That he was a Chicago native, having moved to New York City only a few months prior to their first meeting. That he’d never gotten this close to another man before. That he was a radio host.

Noir listened to John’s radio show whenever he had the chance, in between hunting down bad guys both as a private eye and as Spider-Man. The man was talented, that much was for sure. Despite everything, John’s show always managed to make Noir laugh.

But then, that was what had first attracted Noir to Ham as well- that the pig could make him laugh.

He had gone so long without laughing, before.

“Noir? Hey, Noir!”

Noir snapped to attention. They were in Gwen’s dimension, now, in the middle of a movie marathon- horror films, mostly, as Halloween was quickly approaching.

(Halloween wasn’t a holiday that Noir particularly cared for; it was hard enough tracking down bad guys when they were the only ones wearing masks.)

Noir should have been enjoying himself, should have been focusing on the movies and on the other spider-people and on how Ham was squeezed in between himself and the wall, but his mind kept drifting elsewhere. And now, apparently, Ham at least had noticed.

“What is it?” Noir asked.

“What pizza toppings do you want?”

Oh, that was all. Somehow that wasn’t what Noir had been expecting. “I’ll eat whatever everyone else wants. I’m not picky.”

Noir almost went on to mention why he wasn’t picky, how he had learned too well how it felt when money was tight and having food on the table might as well have been a minor miracle, how to him food was just fuel and he would eat anything put in front of him just the same, grateful to have any food at all- but they didn’t need to hear all that. He didn’t need their pity.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Ham rested one arm across Noir’s shoulders. “You’ve been acting kind of weird today, Noir.”

“Weirder than normal, you mean?” Noir didn’t have to turn around to tell that the voice was that of Gwen, her voice muffled by the potato chips she was shoveling into her mouth. Neither Noir nor Ham deigned to dignify her comment with a response.

“Penny for your thoughts, mister tall dark and handsome?”

Noir’s face grew hot as Ham finished his sentence. That was about as blatant as Ham’s flirting ever got, at least when the others were around.

And then Noir remembered what, exactly, he had been so distracted by in the first place... or rather, who had been so distracting.

Ham deserved to know. It wasn’t fair for him to be carrying on with another man behind Ham’s back, Noir knew that. But Noir also didn’t want to get into it while everyone else was around, didn’t want to derail an evening’s entertainment with discussion of his love life.

Noir made a decision, one that he knew he might live to regret.

“...nothing. It’s nothing.”

Noir and John were side by side in Noir’s bed. Noir was getting tired, though he’d never admit it. It had been a long day, and a long evening as well.

“Pity what the world’s coming to these days.” Noir said.

John nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“I’m glad somebody does, at least. Just look at what’s happening in Germany- look here in America, even, Nazis taking to the streets-”

“At least we’re doing what we can to shut them down here.” John replied. As Noir murmured his agreement, John continued, “It is scary, though. And it’s personal for me- I mean, my wife is Jewish, and she’s wonderful, I-”

“Your... wife is Jewish.” Noir repeated.

It took a moment for John to realize what exactly he had just said, for his eyes to grow dark with emotions Noir couldn’t quite place. “Oh, that sounds bad, doesn’t it...”

“Your wife is Jewish.” Noir stood up and started to throw his clothes back on, his mind racing. He was disappointed in John, sure, but more than that, he was disappointed in himself. He was a private eye, for God’s sake, he made his living off of noticing details that others would overlook, and yet he hadn’t realized that he’d been sleeping with a married man.

“Spidey- Peter, it’s not what it sounds like, I can explain-”

“I think you should go, John.”

John stood up, but made no motion to put his clothes back on or to head towards Noir’s apartment door. Instead, he took a deep breath, then let it out before saying, “Annie and I have an... understanding.”

Noir’s eyes narrowed. “Explain yourself.”

“Before we got married, we each chose one celebrity that we could sleep with if we got the chance, regardless of our marital vows. She chose Gary Cooper. I chose Spider-Man.”

“You’re joking.”

John didn’t waver even slightly. “No. For once in my life, I swear, I am not joking. Scout’s honor.” John made a gesture crossing his heart before adding, “Granted, I don’t think either of us were expecting to actually take advantage of it...”

“Have you told her? About... about us?”

“I have, yes.”

“What did she say?”

“That I owe her a ticket to Hollywood.”

Noir couldn’t help but laugh, despite the circumstances. It was ridiculous, really. It was just ridiculous enough to be true. “I’ll help pay for that ticket.”

“I’ll let Annie know you said that. She’ll probably get a kick out of it.”

Silence loomed in the room as Noir picked his next words carefully.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely forthright with you either, John. There’s somebody else in my life, too.”

John’s eyes widened. “Really? Because your apartment screams bachelor to me...”

Noir wasn’t sure whether to take John’s comment as an insult, or an attempted joke, or a mere observation. Nevertheless, he pressed forward with his speech. “Well, he doesn’t live here. He doesn’t even live in this dimension, actually. His name is Peter, too, and he... he’s a pig. A talking cartoon pig. With spider powers like mine. Because he used to be a spider.”

John laughed. Noir hadn’t had the opportunity to hear John laugh much. It was a beautiful sound. “Now, Spidey, I’ve never heard you joke like that before-”

“I’m being deadly serious right now.”

John’s laughter died as abruptly as it began, replaced with a look of pronounced befuddlement.

“It’s a bit of a long story...”

The next time their group of spider-people got together, as they sat together on a rooftop in Peter B.’s dimension, Noir pulled Ham aside and cleared his throat before speaking.

“We need to talk.”

“Well, I’m always glad to talk to y-”

“Let me clarify. We need to talk, alone. I don’t want the others to hear.”

“Got it.”

The two swung over to another building before facing one another.

“There’s somebody else.” Noir’s voice was low, almost a whisper, partly because he didn’t want the sound to carry over to where the others were sitting, partly because he felt like saying it too loudly would make it seem that much more real.

Ham didn’t share the same mindset; his response was as loud as his usual speech, or perhaps even slightly louder. “Another spider? Well, I-”

“No, not another spider. Just a-” Noir faltered for a moment, and when he resumed talking, he couldn’t look Ham in the eye. “-a man. A nice man, who I’ve grown... close to, over the past few weeks.”

“From your dimension?” Ham asked.

Noir looked back at Ham and blinked a few times before answering. He had anticipated a number of possible questions from Ham, but that hadn’t been one of them. “Yes, from my dimension.”

“See? I knew your world couldn’t all be as doom and gloom as you made it out to be.”

“Is that a joke?" Noir’s voice grew louder with every word. Part of him knew that if he spoke too loudly, the others would hear; part of him didn’t really care at this point. “Is this all some big joke to you?”

“No!” Ham protested. “But- you’re not- is this your way of telling me we’re through?”

Noir held one hand against his temple. “Well, I- I care about you, but I care about him, too, and if I have to pick one of you I don’t-”

“You don’t have to pick.”

Noir let his hand fall to his side as he looked at Ham. “What?”

“You heard me. You don’t have to pick. Just because you care about one person doesn’t mean you can’t care about someone else. That’s not how it works.”

“So you’re- you’re fine with me being with... someone else?”

“Sure.” Ham paused for a moment before adding, “As long as he’s fine with it, too.”

“He- he is. We had a talk about it.”

“Man, would I have loved to be a fly on that wall.” Ham muttered just quietly enough that Noir wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to have heard it. In a normal voice, Ham added, “So, tell me about this new beau of yours.”

“His... his name is John, and he’s a radio host...”

John wasn’t usually in Noir’s apartment in the middle of the day, but then, that wasn’t going to be the most unusual thing about this particular meeting of theirs.

“When is he going to get here?” John asked.

“Any second now.” Noir replied.

Indeed, it was only a matter of seconds before Spider-Ham materialized out of thin air at Noir’s side.

Before Ham and John could utter a word to one another, Noir introduced the two. “Peter, meet John. John, meet Peter.”

The two extended their hands at roughly the same time, though John had to crouch down to complete their handshake.

“Pleasure to meet ya.” Ham said.

“Likewise.” John replied. A moment later, he added, “Now what is all of-” John pointed in the general vicinity of Ham. “-that?”

“Color. It’s color.” Ham clarified. “Specifically red-” Ham pointed at his mask- “And blue.” Ham pointed at his legs. “I know, you’re not used to the stuff.”

“You can say that again.”

As the two talked, Noir tried and failed to suppress a laugh.

Both Ham and John looked over at Noir.

“What is it?”

“It’s not that funny, is it?”

“No...” Noir replied. “It’s- the same voice. You two have the same voice.”

“What are you talking ab-”

“No, that can’t be-”

“Oh my God we have the same voice.”

Noir wondered if the voice similarity was part of some greater connection between the two. He tried to remember if any of the Peter Parkers- which Ham wasn’t, as he was Peter Porker, and from what Ham had explained regarding his origin story, he hadn’t even started out with that surname- had shared a voice. His voice wasn’t the same as Peter B.’s, that much Noir knew, but did it match that of the Peter from Miles’ world, the one who had died trying to stop what had both endangered the rest of them and brought them all together? Was Spider-Woman Gwen Stacy’s voice the same as that of the Gwen Stacy that Peter B. had alluded to before, but never seemed to want to talk about?

Noir didn’t know the answers to these questions off-hand, but nevertheless, it felt like two pieces that he had struggled to fit together in his mind for so long were finally fitting into place.

And, perhaps more importantly, both Ham and John had joined in Noir’s laughter, and the two were sharing jokes now, and...

And it had all worked out, somehow.

He had two sources of laughter in his life now, and it seemed that both of them were here to stay.

Perhaps he was ready to start making up for lost time.

[3rdgymbros]

I’m Sorry (I Fell In Love Tonight)

( PROMPT: We’re making out on the couch when a member of your family - who doesn’t know we’re friends with benefits - walks in and what do you mean I have to be your pretend girlfriend? )

A/N: I’M BACK!! FIRST STORY SINCE MY ARRIVAL IN ROME!! I’ll be posting sneak peeks of my stories, as well as edits and graphics on my Instagram (3rdgymbros), so do follow me there!! Comments and reblogs are appreciated! I love you guys!!

WARNINGS: Sin. But slight sin this time. 

Taglist (temporary, for this series only): @mashed-fandom-imagines | @gryffindoggo | @ardenthly | @hawkiye

Taglist (permanent): @mainspidey | @x-wing-starwriter |@tomsleftbrow |@tryn25|@tanglefire | @midnight-memorial | @tiny-friggin-human |@tacklemyackles|@fangeekkk |@beamagtuto | @captainaudreystark | @hellosuperewczi | @dasia-aye

Hands, warm and strong, grip your hips. Peter’s lips, so firm yet soft, press against yours. His mouth slants against yours, seeking and ravenous, sucking on your lips and tongue. Moaning, you arch into him, your fingers tangled in his silky hair.

Your thighs hit the mattress and you land on your butt, falling to your back with Peter leaning over you. He hitches you up with an arm banded around your back, centring you on the bed before he settles atop you. His hands cup your breasts, kneading and tugging gently.

“Look at you, (Y/n),” You think you hear Peter say. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

Figment of your imagination or not, warmth still spreads through you at his words. “Peter . . .”

Peter’s warm brown gaze slides over you, followed by his hand, which slips between your legs, gliding gently though your cleft. A soft sound escapes you, your eyes fluttering shut when his erection, so stiff and warm, rests heavily on your belly. Circling your hips shamelessly, you stroke your clit with the wide crest of his length, making him slick with your arousal.

“(Y/n),” Peter moans, sending shivers of delight through you.

A breathless laugh escapes you, only to turn into a low, keening cry as Peter seizes your hips and angles you, knowing just how to position you to make you fit him. The stretching is intense. Delicious.

Your core trembles, clenching desperately around Peter. He makes a rough sound of pleasure, pulling out just a little before sliding back slowly. Again, then again. You moan, welcoming the familiar soreness of having him so deep.

Undulating your hips, you take your pleasure, moaning Peter’s name over and over again. Your core clenches rhythmically, heated pleasure tearing through you. Shuddering, peter follows you over, his arms, tightening until you can barely breathe. His harsh exhalations are the air filling your burning lungs. You’re utterly possessed, completely defenceless.

You have no idea how long the two of you lie like that, tangled together on his double-bed, mouths sliding over shoulders and throats to soothe and calm. Your entire body tingles and pulses.

“Wow,” You manage finally.

Peter huffs a laugh, still peppering the crook of your neck with kisses. “Aunt May wants to see you again.”

“I saw her just now,” You say on a smile, recalling how Aunt May had immediately clasped you in a tight hug the moment you’d walked through the door. “I even said hi and everything.”

His brows lift. “For dinner this weekend.”

Oh. Oh.

“You still haven’t told her?”

“No,” His face changes, takes on a slightly anxious look. “It’s fine if you don’t want to do it, I’ll –”

“I’ll do it,” You say, cutting him off. “I like Aunt May. It’ll be nice to see her again.”

“Would you really?” Peter looks relieved and hopeful, all at once, and you smile as you drag yourself over to kiss him on the lips, softly and sweetly.

“Yep.”

His answering smile is glorious. “Thank you, (Y/n).”

“You’re welcome,” You say.

 What am I doing here, again? Oh, right. Peter asked me to pretend to be in a relationship with him, and I agreed.

You clutch a batch of freshly-baked chocolate-chip cookies in your hands, lingering outside the apartment for a few minutes to compose yourself.

You aren’t sure why you’re so anxious. It’s just May and Peter. You shift nervously from foot to foot, running a hand down your hip to smooth your gauzy dress. You’ve painstakingly pulled your hair away from your face, applying smoky eye shadow and smudge proof pale pink lipstick. Your maxi dress is pale yellow, bright and cheery, fluttering against your ankles with every movement.

The door opens, and you sway a little on your feet, stricken by the gorgeous, sexy-as-sin boy who greets you with a devastatingly handsome smile. He’s wearing a snug white T-shirt, a pair of comfortably worn denim jeans, and his feet are bare. Peter looks amazing – a mix of casual sexiness that has you licking your lips with pure, white-hot desire.

For a moment, Peter sees you and his smile freezes in place. For a second, your anxiety skyrockets – do you look hideous? Are you overdressed – but then he relaxes, and moves to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You look beautiful,” Peter says, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Thanks for coming.”

You have to suck in a deep breath, remind yourself that this is an act for Aunt May’s benefit. You smile, “Hey, Peter.”

“Is that (Y/n)?” Aunt May yells from the kitchen. “Invite her in, Peter!”

“Hi, May!” You call back on a laugh, moving further into the apartment so that Peter can close the door, effectively locking the world out.

Peter holds your hand ( it’s an act, just an act – ), and leads you into the kitchen. May’s just taking dinner – a pork roast and new potatoes with asparagus – out of the oven when you and Peter walk into the room.

“That smells delicious,” You say politely, setting your bundle on the kitchen counter. “Would you like some help?”

“It’s alright dear, I’m just about done,” May says cheerfully, placing the steaming pan on the dining table. “Peter, you can go ahead and set the table. (Y/n), why don’t you go ahead and take a seat? I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

“No, no, I’d like to help,” You say, looking around uncertainly for the cutlery. “Just as soon as I find out where the plates are.”

Peter surprises you with a throaty laugh. Still keeping his fingers intertwined with yours, he points out a drawer. “Plates are in there. I’ll get the cutlery.”

“What did you bring, (Y/n)?” May asks, bustling over to a pot on the stove. After turning the heat down to low, she peers into your basket, wrapped neatly in floral cloth. “Cookies! Oh, (Y/n), you shouldn’t have!”

You smile shyly, busying yourself with getting out a white and blue set of ceramic plates. “It’s nothing, really. I love baking.”

“I didn’t know that,” Peter pipes up, yanking his hand away before May can smack his hand away for trying to sneak cookies. When May raises an eyebrow, probably wondering why the caring boyfriend doesn’t know about his girlfriend’s hobbies, he hastily elaborates, “You’ve never baked for me before.”

“I didn’t want to poison you,” You deadpan, and both him and Aunt May laugh.

You, Peter, and Aunt May eat a candlelit dinner for three at the dining table, decorated with a lace tablecloth and tea lights. The conversation is kept light and general, with questions like, “How long have you and Peter been dating?”, “How’s school going?”, and “Did Peter tell you about his internship with Stark Industries?” All your worries melt away, a sugar cube in a cup of warm tea; it’s nice to have some quiet downtime with Peter and Aunt May.

“I should really get going,” You say apologetically, after you’d downed two cookies and a glass of milk. You’d tried to help load the dishes into the dishwasher, but May had quickly done it before you could so much as get out from your seat. “My mother wants me home in an hour.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Peter says, right as Aunt May prods Peter in the ribs, “Walk (Y/n) home!”

May surprises you when she wraps you in a tight hug before you can leave. “Don’t be a stranger, (Y/n). I’ll see you at the party next week.”

“Um, what party?” Your gaze flits over nervously to Peter, who shakes his head ever so slightly. “Oh, right. That party. Okay, sure. See you then.”

“Later, May!” Peter calls over his shoulder.

You make your way back into the hectic streets of New York, your hand clasped firmly in Peter’s. You’re uncomfortably aware of how warm and calloused his hand is, how perfectly right his hand fits in yours.

It’s dark out now, the city taking on a whole new life and energy from what it has during the business day. Steaming food carts dot the sidewalks, along with a vendor selling framed artwork, another hawking novelty T-shirts, and yet another who has two folding tables covered in movie and television episode scripts.

“So,” You say, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “What party was May talking about?”

Peter at least has the grace to look sheepish. “Oh, well. Aunt May might have accidentally told Mr. Stark you and I were . . . Well. And now they want to meet you.”

You know who they are, of course. How could you not?

You take a deep breath, hoping that the crisp air burning your lungs will calm the vibrating anxiety so that you can think properly. Meeting the Avengers. How did you get yourself into this mess?

“I have one condition,” You say. “Can we try being friends? Outside of . . .”

Peter sounds thrilled, and oddly nervous when he answers. “Yeah, sure.” You don’t dwell on that, chalking the happiness in his voice up to your own wishful thinking. 

It’s a start, at least.

[cecilspeaks]

Episode 103 - Ash Beach

We make money the old-fashioned way. We chemically convert lead into gold.

Welcome to Night Vale.

The Night Vale Tourism Board announced that after 12 years of super-fond site cleanup, Ash Beach reopened today to the public. The Tourism Board’s new brochure shows a young happy family having a picnic lunch and wearing respirator masks, building ash castles and flying kites against the blackened sky. We’re landlocked here in the desert with no body of water in sight, so back in the 1950’s, the city decided to create a public beach made entirely out of municipally burned books that were deemed too dangerous or too boring to reach.

Carlos and I are so excited about the reopening of the beach. We are already planning a trip in the next few weeks with the family. According to the Tourism Board, there will be a refurbished boardwalk there with food trucks and carnival games. Beachgoers can stroll down the pier and watch the surfers lie on their boards, as we all wait for the oceans to rise dramatically enough that Night Vale finally has a waterfront.

This Friday Night, Dark Owl Records will be hosting an album release party for Stevie Ray Vaughan’s new album called “Beyoncé”. Which is a collection of instrumental covers of Leonard Cohen’s greatest hits. Vaughan’s unique approach to music has always been to askew instruments altogether and simply read the name of each chord aloud. Vaughan will be at the store taking selfies with fans and asking everyone how he got here, and why he cannot hold tangible objects.

Sunday at the Rec Center is the annual gun show sponsored by the Night Vale chapter of the NRA. All patrons receive a free trucker hat that reads “Guns don’t kill people, unless you shoot those people with said gun and then they die. But other than that one specific situation, we’ve never known a gun to kill anybody.” Gun dealers from all over the United States will be at the show, selling handguns and hunting rifles and telling fantastical stories about a mythical government that would try, even in the slightest, to regulate gun ownership. The first 500 ticket buyers will have their government-implanted tracking chips surgically removed for free.

We’re getting reports that the grand re-opening of Ash Beach is going.. well, oh, not well as in good I mean well as in.. I’m not sure what to say next. So the beach, which is completely black and not at all connected to any body of water, is apparently really hot. And beachgoers are having a difficult time getting the dark ash stains off their burning skin. Also, there are reports of hazy humanoid figures emerging from the ash. They have long thin arms, gaping mouths with hundreds of tiny square teeth, round glowing eyes, and they shimmer in and out of visibility. Some witnesses reported hearing faint clicks and crunches, like someone rapidly chewing egg shells.

Amber Akinyi and Wilson Levy are celebrating their first wedding anniversary at Ash Beach today. They clam to have seen these ephemeral beings and moments later, experienced a flood of memories that never happened to them. Wilson remembered his wedding six years ago to his high school girlfriend Tanya. The memory was so clear, Tanya in her strapless white gown with ivory piping.. Ew. His best man Aiden accidentally dropping the ring and comically chasing it as it rolled into the third row. The string trio playing Pachelbel’s “Hey Ya” as ushers escorted guests into seats and pushed the safety bars down firmly over their shoulders. But Wilson claimed he never knew anyone named Tanya and was never married to anyone before Amber. Telling this story, he had tears in his eyes. The fond memory of the wedding he never had still fresh in his mind.

Amber remembered a vacation resort a few miles from Mount Kilimanjaro. She was only eight years old, she was standing outside the resort near her mother’s Toyota pickup truck. Her mother was speaking in Luau to an elderly couple. The couple said they wanted to ride to a camp checkpoint at the base of the mountain. Her mother offered them a ride as she was going to the same place. Amber, her mother, and the couple shared the cramped bench seat, as they rode toward the cloud-shrouded peak. The couple smelled like coffee and brand new sleeping bags. They offered Amber some kashata and told her about different types of birds.

Amber said that she had never been to Tanzania and that her mother passed away when Amber was only three. Nor does Amber believe in mountains, nor does she know what kashata is, and she doesn’t know a single word of Luau, so the memory could not be real. But she could understand the Luau in her memory, and could taste the soft coconut crunch of the kashata.

Wilson brushed Amber’s cheek and she kissed his wrist. They both cried quietly as they laid out some small shovels and buckets, rubbed UV protective lotion on their arms, unfolded beach chairs and elected a large umbrella.

More on this story as it develops.

Good news, listeners. Five-headed dragon Hadassah McDaniels and her legion of dragon lawyers, from whatever dragon world they’re from, have stopped crushing local businesses. And eating pets. And setting fire to public parks. The bad news is that we’re not certain what the dragons are doing right now. No one has seen them in over a week. It’s like when you see a spider and then you turn your head, and when you look back, that spider is gone. And that is the true definition of horror, because you don’t know where that spider is, and you miss it so much. It was a really cute spider!

The dragons were last seen visiting the Terrible Court of the Distant Prince. It was difficult to say for certain that it was the Distant Prince, because those who saw this visitation said it happened quite a long way away. Witnesses reported that they definitely saw the dragons talking with what looked like a young man wearing a crown, his form blurred as though moving quickly, even though he was standing still. But he was partially hidden by harbingers, as well as court shriekers and mangled servants. The witnesses did not mention seeing any hollow-eyed weepers, so it may not have been the Distant Prince at all. Maybe a Distant Viscount. At best, a Distant Earl. A Distant Countess, even?

Listeners. Old Woman Josie’s daughter Alondra wanted me to thank everyone for all of the good wishes and gifts to her and her dying mother. She asked that people please stop sending flowers though. She has nowhere to put them. And plus, flowers are sort of gross. “You realize that flowers are just water and manure and seeds and dirt,” Alondra Ortiz said. “They look and smell nice but just remember what the smell is made of. Gross! Stop it,” she said. Then she added, “I mean if you already sent flowers, they’re beautiful, thank you.” And then she rolled her eyes.

Carlos and I visited Josie last Saturday. We brought her and Alondra a framed photo of Josie breaking ground at the New Old Night Vale Opera House. For a picture that’s only a couple years old, Josie looks so young. It’s her smile, I think. Her smile never aged. In the photo, she’s wearing a hardhat, orange construction vest, tanned jodhpurs, and five-toed running shoes. She’s holding a shovel filled with dirt in front of a sign that says “Opera House: coming soon!” She was so proud of Night Vale that day. I showed the picture to Josie who was lying in her bed, eyes open. She didn’t respond. I wish I had visited sooner, but I was glad to have seen her again before she leaves us. Carlos patted her hand and I kissed her forehead. I said, “Josie, Carlos and I love you. As does Alondra. As do all of the angels.” And at this point, I heard the citywide “angels acknowledged” sirens go off, but I didn’t care. There were angels all over her house! There have been for years, and I’m sort of tired of pretending they’re not there. “The angels love you and will take care of you, Josie,” I said loudly over the sound of the blaring sirens, and I think I saw that young smile gently touch the corners of her dry pursed mouth.

In lieu of flowers, might I recommend donations to the Opera House in Josie’s name? Or any place that supports the arts. Nothing would make her happier.

We’re getting more updates from Ash Beach. Everyone at the beach today is covered in dark ashes, their skin burning, the sun muted by a cloud of char. They have all seen the waggling, hazy figures that fade in and out of sight. The figures open their long mouths and point their spindly arms at people, and those people in turn experience vibrant memories that never happened. Frances Donaldson, manager of the Antiques Mall, said she remembered winning a silver medal for figure skating in the Olympic games, but she’s never even seen ice in real life. Green Market Co-opt Board president, Tristan Cortez, said when the figures on the beach pointed at him, he remembered being lost in the wilderness with a Golden Retriever friend of his. They were soon joined by a Himalayan cat. They were all homeward bound, sharing an incredible journey together. But that never happened! Tristan said it was actually a Bullterrier and a Siamese cat, and that this new memory is false. 

John Peters, you know, the farmer, said he had a striking memory of his brother, Jim. The memory was from only two days ago. Jim was cleaning out the tractor shed with John. John said it was unusually warm for late winter and they were both getting tired. It was almost noon, and John wanted to break for lunch but Jim said, “Hey Johnnie, look at what I found!” John said Jim held up an old football. “It’s from when we was kids, Johnnie!” Jim said of a memory instigated by a physical object inside John’s memory from today of something that didn’t happen earlier this week. John and Jim went out into their untilled fields of imaginary corn and tossed the ball around for nearly an hour. John said he wished this memory was real. His brother’s been off serving in the blood space war for nearly 40 years now. “He probably ain’t even arrived at whatever planet he’s supposed to fight yet. What with the, destructive limitations on matter as it approaches the speed of light,” John said, sadly reminiscing about his long-lost sibling. “I bet they gotta be in a kinda frozen space sleep or something like in that documentary, ‘Aliens’,” he added.

Listeners, if you’re at Ash Beach, try not to look at the thin beings coming up from the ashes. Hide from their pointing hands, and above all, do not trust the memories they fill your mind with. They are untrue, they are fever dreams. They. Are. Lies.

Wait, in fact I’m just now getting word from witnesses that large waves are crashing down on Ash Beach. There’s no indication where the water is coming from as Night Vale, again, is in a desert. Some beachgoers began tearing hoods off cars and using them as surf boards. Someone has spelled out “HELP LOST” in seaweed, but the crashing waves washed it all away. Many people are being dragged out into a nonexistent sea by a dangerous undertow. Where is this water coming from? Until we know for certain, stay away from ash beach.

More soon, but now the weather.

[“Faded” by P.O.S. feat Lady Midnight, doomtree.net/pos]

The tide has ebbed, the beach is clear. The ashes are gone, washed out to.. well. Oh, not well as in I don’t know what to say in next, I meant well as in an old well, that appeared in the same spot it had stood two summers ago, draining the water into it in a direct reversal of a well’s usual role and then vanishing again, as old well’s often do.

Well. Ash Beach is neither ash nor beach anymore. Simply a great expanse of sand and less and dry. Those who saw the shimmering apparitions said the memories they were given are as real as ever. They were not merely daydreams, nor vivid hallucinations, they are actual events that never happened.

Simone Rigideau, the transient who lives in the Earth Sciences Building of the Night Vale Community College and who recently began teaching courses there, much to the chagrin of the college administration, said she was at Ash Beach today and she saw the figures. She saw their pointing, wriggling translucent appendages, she saw their numerous flat teeth in their long gray mouths, she saw their bulbous white eyes, she heard the sound of crunching like chewing egg shells, and she had a memory. She remembered the college campus. She remembered it was 1983. She remembered students with boomboxes, Trans-Am muscle cars. She remembered the news anchors that day, Tim and Trin, with their feathered-hair double-Windsor neckties, shoulder pads, and deep maroon nail polish. She remembered the news of missiles already launched, apologies for a miscommunication, a mistake in a training drill. Apologies not accepted. Missiles launched to retaliate. She remembered the news anchors Tim and Trin trying not to cry, trying to report the news. She remembered students and faculty gathered around the television, trying not to cry, trying to receive the news. She remembered… the world ending. Not with a bang, not with a whimper, but with silence. The absence of thought and feeling. Everyone went missing all at once together – time, body, memory… gone.

 Simone then said she remembered something else, from the new memory she received today. A woman with a deer mask had appeared on the television screen, her face flickering through the loud static and obscuring the faces of Tim and Trin. She spoke in a language unknown to Simone but… she recognized the name of the woman. Huntokar. 

[cheerfully] “Oh, I know Huntokar,” I said. “She did this, Cecil,” Simone said. “Huntokar is super weird,” I said, “makes sense that she would be behind this whole ‘Ash Beach’ thing.” “I’m not talking about the beach,” Simone said. “Then what are you talking about?” I said. “She is the destroyer!” Simone said, shaking her head. Simone said she remembered the world ending, it was so clear, so vivid. But it did not end. She touched my arm and said that we are here. How are we here? I told Simone, “You always say the world ended in 1983, I don’t see how this is so special for you.” She said, “I knew it ended. I just couldn’t remember it ending. Now I do. The world ended, Cecil, I saw it on the news!” “Oh then it must be true,” I said. “Are you being sarcastic?” she asked. “Why would I do that?” I replied. “I still can’t tell if you are or not,” she said, eyeing me suspiciously. I don’t understand what she was getting at.

Whatever our truth, Night Vale, you can feel your body. Hear my voice. See the sunlight through dissipating ash clouds. I do not know if we are real. But we are alive. We are tangible, feeling, and whole.

Stay tuned next for the sound of something trying to dig its way out of your chest.

Good night, Night Vale, good night.

Today’s proverb: if you’re not wearing a denim vest, then this conversation is over.

[floridian--mermaid]

I'll be that guy, 1-150?

1.Who was the last person you held hands with?-The little boy I nanny 2. Are you outgoing or shy?-I can be both3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?-No one really? 4. Are you easy to get along with?-I tend to think so5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?-No6. What kind of people are you attracted to?-Someone who's honest and funny. Someone who has a good manners. Someone who won't up and leave for no reason.7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?-Probably not8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?-I'm not saying 9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?-Nope10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?-Samantha 11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?-"Oh well fuck 'em😂"12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?-Carrie Underwood Church Bells-Kelsea Ballerini Peter Pan-Penatonix version of Hallelujah -Thomas Rhett Star of The Show-Carrie Underwood Dirty Laundry There's a lot more but it's hard to pick just 5😂13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?-Yes😍14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?-Depends what happened I guess15. What good thing happened this summer?-All the times I went to the beach?😂16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?-Nope17. Do you think there is life on other planets?-There could be yes18. Do you still talk to your first crush?-Nope😂19. Do you like bubble baths?-Sometimes yes20. Do you like your neighbors?-One yes. The other creeps me out. 21. What are you bad habits?-Over thinking everything 22. Where would you like to travel?-Ireland. Anywhere in the mountains. Italy. England. 23. Do you have trust issues?-Fuck yes😩24. Favorite part of your daily routine?-Eating 😂25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?-My stomach and nose26. What do you do when you wake up?-Check my phone 😂27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?-Wish it was somewhat tanner28. Who are you most comfortable around?-My mom and 3 best friends29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?-Yes30. Do you ever want to get married?-I hope so31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail?-Yes32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?-Oh gosh😅33. Spell your name with your chin.-63q4tw4 close enough right😂😂😂😂34. Do you play sports? What sports?-No35. Would you rather live without TV or music?-TV...I could always watch netflix on my phone 😂36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?-Yes37. What do you say during awkward silences?-Nothing 38. Describe your dream girl/guy?-Isn't what I kinda already described in #6? Haha but someone who loves me for me. Who will stick around when I'm at my worst. Someone I can joke around with. Someone who's as sarcastic as I am. 39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?-I love Target 40. What do you want to do after high school?-Well I've been outta high school or like 4 years now😅 but I want to be a teacher41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?-Depends why they lost their first chance 42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?-I'm sad or hurt or upset43. Do you smile at strangers?-I do44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?-I've always loved outer space but there's so much at the bottom of the ocean we don't know about so ocean45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?-Reality and adulthood46. What are you paranoid about?-Never finding someone to love me47. Have you ever been high?-No48. Have you ever been drunk?-Yes49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?-Nope50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?-Navy Blue with a patriots logo on it51. Ever wished you were someone else?-I have52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?-My smile and nose?53. Favourite makeup brand?-I don't really have a favorite. I have a lot of makeup😂54. Favourite store?-Target55. Favourite blog?-To many to name56. Favourite colour?-Teal57. Favourite food? -Tacos, spaghetti, cheese burgers, pizza, donuts58. Last thing you ate?-A Dunkin Donut donut 😍59. First thing you ate this morning?-A donut haha60. Ever won a competition? For what?-Cheerleading 61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?-Nope I haven't62. Been arrested? For what?-I haven't 63. Ever been in love? -Yes64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?-Gonna sound cliché but it was at a middle school dance 😂65. Are you hungry right now?-Yes66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?-I like them all equal67. Facebook or Twitter?-Neither68. Twitter or Tumblr?-Tumblr69. Are you watching tv right now?-No70. Names of your bestfriends? -Samantha, Katelyn, Megan and then a few on tumblr71. Craving something? What?-Cuddles and sex72. What colour are your towels?-I have a lot so there's not one specific color72. How many pillows do you sleep with?-I sleep on 4 and then cuddle 2😂73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?-No74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?-To many75. Favourite animal?-Giraffe 76. What colour is your underwear?-Purple77. Chocolate or Vanilla?-If it's Ice Cream or candy then chocolate. I just don't like chocolate cake or cupcakes78. Favourite ice cream flavour?-Chocolate chip cookie dough 79. What colour shirt are you wearing?-Light blue80. What colour pants?-Blue81. Favourite tv show?-Chicago Fire82. Favourite movie?-Titanic and The Little Mermaid 😂83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?-Mean Girls84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?-21 Jump Street85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?-Karen86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?-The turtles87. First person you talked to today?-My mom88. Last person you talked to today?-Right now Kaitlyn 89. Name a person you hate?-Not going there90. Name a person you love?-Not going there either 91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?-Yes92. In a fight with someone?-No93. How many sweatpants do you have?-A few94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?-A lot of sweaters but only a couple hoodies95. Last movie you watched?-Legally Blonde came on tonight 96. Favourite actress?-Shit...Ummm I don't know97. Favourite actor?-Same as this one...I don't know 98. Do you tan a lot?-Yes 99. Have any pets?-Yes100. How are you feeling?-I'm feeling good...confused but good101. Do you type fast?-Sometimes102. Do you regret anything from your past?-Yes103. Can you spell well?-Decently I think104. Do you miss anyone from your past?-Yes105. Ever been to a bonfire party?-Yes...went to one last night 106. Ever broken someone’s heart?-Yes but he's over it and moved on but it was best for both of us107. Have you ever been on a horse?-Yes108. What should you be doing?-Sleeping109. Is something irritating you right now?-Yes big time110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?-Yes111. Do you have trust issues?-Didn't I already answer this? Yes I do112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?-I can't remember113. What was your childhood nickname?-I didn't have a specific childhood nickname that I can remember 114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?-Yes115. Do you play the Wii?-I did when I had one and I do when I nanny because that's what they use for netflix 116. Are you listening to music right now?-Yes117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?-Yes118. Do you like Chinese food?-Yes...im craving it right now actually 😭😩119. Favourite book?-I don'thave a favorite book 120. Are you afraid of the dark?-Sometimes yes121. Are you mean?-Not usually but I can be122. Is cheating ever okay?-Hell no 123. Can you keep white shoes clean?-No124. Do you believe in love at first sight?-Not really no125. Do you believe in true love?-I have no idea anymore126. Are you currently bored?-Kinda127. What makes you happy?- A lot of things128. Would you change your name?-No129. What your zodiac sign?-Cancer130. Do you like subway?-Yes131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?-I don't know 132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?-Samantha 133. Favourite lyrics right now?-I don't have a favorite right now134. Can you count to one million?-Probably not135. Dumbest lie you ever told?-There's a lot of dumb white lies I've told136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?-Closed137. How tall are you?-5'5 138. Curly or Straight hair?-Naturally straight 139. Brunette or Blonde?-Right now I'm a dirty blonde140. Summer or Winter?-Summer141. Night or Day?-Both142. Favourite month?-May?143. Are you a vegetarian?-No144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?-Milk145. Tea or Coffee?-I'm not a big fan of hot tea, so coffee146. Was today a good day?-Ottawa was decent147. Mars or Snickers?-Snickers148. What’s your favourite quote?-"Love like crazy" I can't think of any but that song is playing so it's what I put 149. Do you believe in ghosts?-Yes 150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line-"The next day Abbie sat across from Jonathan in his car on the way to the hospital"