#that also pisses on the poor trying to comprehend reading

[questioningmyexistence432]

'ᴘʀᴇʏ.'

warnings - fear kink? predator/prey. hair pulling. pinning - manhandling. outdoor sex. the setting is outdoors. can be read as a part two for this. however, was thinking of making a series with yandere simon and captive reader, which also fits this. let me know if that's something anyone would be interested in!

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simon planned to prove to you why his callsign was ‘Ghost’. he’d given you a head start - not before playing with your hair a little. installing the ‘prey mindset’ for you - it was clear when you had taken off into the forest. simon grinned at the sight. he’d take so much pleasure in hunting you down. 

but, simon also planned to toy with his favourite prey. he wouldn’t make it that easy for you. making sure his steps were loud sometimes when he knew you were near enough to hear them - his footsteps were silent out of instinct by now so making them loud enough for you to hear was his unique way of taunting you. calling out and attempting to coax you with sweet words - ‘he’d take it easy on you if you just came out now.’ he absolutely wouldn’t. he knew where you were hiding anyway. he could grab you by your hair and drag you out from behind that tree if he wished. he just didn’t want to spoil the fun early. 

“c’mon, love, i’ll count down to one.” he threatened - all with that same grin on his face. he crouched to the woodland ground and picked up a small stone - rolling it over in his palm as he counted. 

“three.” his back was turned to the tree you were hiding behind. you held your breath. raising your hand to your mouth to muffle any sounds coming from you. 

“two.” you peeked out from behind the tree just to get a good look at him. his back still turned yet his whole demeanour gave away he was relaxed. that surely wasn’t a good sign - not for you. 

simon couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction he experienced as you didn’t come out from your ‘hiding place.’ it was a piss poor idea to hide from him in the first place - but staying in one place when he was this close to you? he might’ve, at least, praised you if you had decided to do the brave thing and run. the learning experience in this activity was trial and error really. you wouldn’t escape - he knew that and deep down he’s sure you knew that too. but, he wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity to find out very clearly one of your fear responses was freeze. 

he, briefly, wondered if you’d ultimately resort to fawn when he made it known he knew where you were. would you willingly let simon pin you down to the ground as he ravished your body like any good predator would do to its prey? or, would you flee? sprint into the darkened forest with no hope of knowing where you were going. 

“one.” you still didn’t move. you couldn’t force yourself to do so. a cold sweat running through your whole body. 

he tutted, a sound you really didn’t want to hear, as he turned around. your breath caught in your throat as you ducked your body behind the tree - pinning your back to the bark as you, uselessly, hoped he hadn’t seen you. you wanted to scream -  how could you be so stupid? he gave you a second before hurling the stone at the tree. the sound of it echoing in your ears as your body went rigid. 

then, you heard him. his boots crunching the leaves as he made his way closer.

the night had ended as expected, simon hauling your body over his shoulder as he carried you back to his car. mumbling sweet words that your mind couldn't comprehend in your state. a mixture of his cum and yours leaking down your thighs.

simon had taken your panties as a souvenir after he had straddled you down to the forest ground - grabbing both of your wrists with his one hand as you struggled against his weight. trying to buck him off but doing nothing but managing to tire yourself out. you looked up at him with glossy eyes - pleading with him silently. he knew he couldn't hold himself back after that. his callous hands grabbing at your hips roughly through your clothing. leaving marks you were sure would bruise by tomorrow. simon had a way of marking what he considered his.

[toweroftunes]

csm 167 thoughts

Trying to come out of my posting hiatus after seeing some, let’s say, interesting reactions to the most recent CSM chapter. While it’s totally normal to be disappointed as a sympathetic or empathetic reaction to the protagonists being violated, it’s another for your take away to be that Fujimoto has “lost the plot” or that he was simply “horny,” which I’ve seen people say on Instagram (like, ???).

A non-consensual sex scene in Chainsaw Man, a manga with central themes revolving around sex and bodily autonomy, is not narratively out of line. And I would argue that being disappointed, feeling uncomfortable, is an expected reaction, maybe even an intended one. Of course we as the audience want Denji and Asa (Denji especially because we’ve followed him longer, know his trauma more intimately) to have happy relationships — to be able to find trust, love, and comfort in others. They deserve better. They always have. That’s what makes Chapter 167 so heartbreaking.

Idk. Seeing readers say that Fujimoto was simply “horny” is like hearing people say that Nabokov was a pervert for writing Lolita. The point of depicting these perspectives in media is often not for self-satisfaction, but to make us think critically about how we engage with these topics. It’s really worrying that there are readers who cannot comprehend this and do not realize that sex itself is a natural phenomenon that can be depicted as a neutral, negative, or positive depending on context and perspective.

Just because Denji had a physical reaction to being touched, does not make it “horny.” Things like hardness, wetness, and/or ejaculation are physical reactions to either stimuli or the expectation of sex. They are often involuntary reactions, not indicators of pleasure or consent.

Again, it’s what makes this heartbreaking. This is something that happened to Denji and Asa, not something that they were, either of them, active, consenting participants in. Yoru has no regard for consent, as War has no regard for consent. War takes. War leaves its victims to pick up the pieces in their trauma, confusion, and anger.

Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve done any meta, CSM or otherwise, so I’m definitely not putting everything succinctly as I’d like. I just think it’s important to critically engage with the text, even when it makes us uncomfortable, and I’ve seen some piss-poor takes on this topic.

And, hey, I could be proven wrong depending on where the story actually ends up going! I think a lot of how I’ll end up reading this scene will also depend on the context that follows, not just the context that has preceded it.

[witchy-scribblings]

the way he cares

haganezuka hotaru x reader

synopsis ➳ somehow, the worst part of being involved in a mild car accident isn't the actual accident, but having to deal with your annoying mechanic.

warnings ➳ car accidents, cussing, can be read as either platonic or romantic, lowercase

wordcount ➳ 0.7k

[crossposted on ao3]

“care to explain what the actual fuck happened to you?”

you had been dreading this moment all morning. well, actually, you had been dreading it for way longer than that. from the moment you were released from the hospital and fully comprehended the damage that your car had sustained, you had known that hotaru, your trusty (and that was the only kind way you could put it) mechanic, was going to give you absolute hell.

you were so not looking forward to it that you seriously considered pretending you weren’t home when you saw his old but reliable towing pickup truck pulling up in your driveway. alas, you had been the one to call him to get your car (if it could be considered a car anymore) to his workshop, so he knew that you were home and you knew that he’d kick down the door if you didn’t come out yourself.

“some fucker hit my car from behind and i got whiplash.” at this point, you had explained what had happened so many times, to the doctors, to your car insurance advisor, to your family and friends, that you had exhausted any patience you would have once spared the infuriating man. hotaru was known for asking the right questions in all the wrong ways, it was just that today you weren’t feeling like putting up with his usual bullshit. “so? can you fix my car or do i need to find a new mechanic?”

at that, he looked downright offended. “of course i can, who the hell do you take me for?” he delivered a hard look to your poor car and its misshapen rear, clicking his tongue. “you’re lucky this is covered by insurance. all this fucking damage…”

“no shit, haganezuka. i have eyes,” you scoff, and he doesn’t answer. instead, he sets to work loading your car onto the tow dolly attacked to the back of his pickup. you watched silently, wanting nothing more than to go back home and rest because your neck was a constant pain in the arse and the relentless july heat was making your neck sweat and itch uncomfortably under the cervical collar.

“you should be more careful,” he speaks suddenly, roughly, bringing you back from your thoughts, and you would have caught the hint of care if you hadn’t been pissed off by the way he dared to express it.

“don’t give me that fucking shit, hotaru. as if it’s my fault that someone else wasn’t paying attention on the road-”

“didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed raggedly, running a hand along the back of his neck, trying to collect the stray hairs that escaped his long ponytail. he didn’t bother elaborating, you didn’t think he had it in him. but you understood, regardless.

“i know,” your voice comes out surprisingly soft, and you see his lips press into the tight line that you’ve long associated to him trying to conceal any visible emotion other than anger.

hotaru is hopping back onto his own vehicle sooner than you can realize and, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was avoiding looking at you. looks like that was more sincerity than he could stand in one morning.

“the towing service isn’t covered by insurance, but you can manage the fee, it won’t sting like a bitch.” he’d do that, start rambling when you knew he was feeling embarrassed. “i’ll call you when it’s ready to pick up, or bring it back here myself, whatever, but know that it’s gonna take a shit-long time. not that you can drive like that, anyways.” he buckled up, checking his mirrors reflexively and still not bothering to look at you. the fucker.

“maybe i’ll just start calling you to drive me places,” you tease, and that does earn you a hurried, offended glare to which you would have shrugged if your neck wasn’t so messed up. “i mean, i have groceries to buy, for example, which i might also need help with taking inside and putting away.” 

“you’re such a brat,” he grumbles, and you grin despite your predicament. his lips curl into a small, sneering smile of his own. “i’ll charge you for that.”

“of course you will.”

[jestersmaskblog]

you people are so fucking stupid

perhaps the reading comprehension on this site is piss poor because the only thing you people can comprehend is incomprehensible to anyone who goes outside ever Is "all rap is sexist/violent/whatever" a stupid take? YES but some of it is and some people have only listened to like... 2 artist before AND there have been other rappers who have talked about the sexism in the industry HELL in the shit that started this entire bullshit one of kendrick's bar's literally mentions "theres weird shit in this industry" motherfuckers were tryna get tory lanez off for shooting megan the stallion, chris brown is STILL allowed to do whatever, and believe it or not, it's pretty easy to find on my acc that I am in fact a woman, and yk other motherfucker, down with the ship down with crew, it wasn't even that long ago it was a bigass topic that female rappers were talkin about men the same way male rappers talked about women, but i guess yall aren't ready for that conversation since it's easier for man to try to switch the topic away from exploitation and double standards against women and like i FUCKING SAID, i like rap, theres a lot of rap artists that make music that isn't violent, is chill, is introspective, gets into your feelings n shit, I also really only listen to female rap artists sue me But I want yall to go back and actually fuckin dust off that 8th grade reading level, and read the original fucking post i reblogged, doesn't matter what the intention was it was 100% fucking phrased like rap is the only music POC make, or the only music by POC people know is rap, it's fucking not, because it had no fucking mention of what people have been saying which I by the way haven't fucking heard anyone say and i've heard a TON of people talking about the kendrick drake beef, because i talk to people that exist off tumblr.com and once again the way the phrased it only works if there wasn't people of color on the top 100 chart, and stop being fucking weird about mixed people, mixed people are still fully allowed to identify with their heritage and some of yall, are just fucking weird, yes I did name artists that aren't mixed, i just happened to also name artists that are mixed? what happened to not erasing mixed people's cultural identity? you do realized the person i fucking responded to to begin with is not only mixed, but it's also not with black at all, tumblr really has this issue where they feel like they can only defend one community by diminishing another and it's fucking gross, as for me mentioning growing up in a mixed community, that was, as i stated multiple fucking times if you people weren't morons, only in relation to me having seen first fuckin hand different kinds of POC can be racist to eachother, as in, once again, the motherfucker wasn't black, sure they were POC, but not black, so they're on equal standing with me in this SPECIFIC conversation since i need to spell it out for yall, since yall seem to forget different POC experience different things and people of color aren't a fucking monolith that all experience the exact same things in conclusion, you can all kill yourselves now <3 and you've all become the very thing you hate, some of yall are sexist, some of all are gross towards mixed people, and some of yall are just straight up racist by generalizing xoxo, i regret nothing, and it's completely worth it to get your GED <3

[gunitnekoh]

Look

As much as tumblr HaTeS tiktok (and I understand why)

We also joke/not joke about the piss poor reading comprehension on this site

Tiktok is visual and auditory and usually quick (although that’s changed some since they added 10min videos) media to consume comprehend

I’m not trying to advertise for tiktok (especially since the government is working on banning it nationwide very soon) but the HATE y’all give that app makes y’all sound like Boomers

[deviantartdramahub]

All about DeviantART drama! (tumblr.com) <- The Link

Gelly thinks we all pissed off, nice fucking try sweetie, sure you arent confusing us with your salty ass? I mean ffs you get pissy when tam decides to forgive his friends that you hate cuz they dont sniff club’s diapered ass.

Gelly is an intelligent young lady who couldn't confound herself with you losers if she tried. And she's correct, you're all angry because we continue to ruin what you call fun, which includes bullying, harassment, stalking, slandering, fabricating lies, taking words out of context, impersonating other people, and getting people you HATE banned from websites…anything else? Oh yeah, you don't follow your own rules, which state that none of the actions listed above should be performed by any of your members, including yourself Mod-S!

Gelly thinks we all pissed off, nice fucking try sweetie, sure you arent confusing us with your salty ass? I mean ffs you get pissy when tam decides to forgive his friends that you hate cuz they dont sniff club’s diapered ass.

Wow, could you possibly be any more hypocritical? At least Gellygirl has a reason to be angry with you, since you're being exposed as a group of liars and scumbags rather than the "innocent individuals" you so desperately attempt to portray as "the truth."

If anything WE TALK IN CAPS BECAUSE IT SEEMS YOU ARE STUPID AND CANT UNDERSTAND UNLESS WE MAKE IT VERY CLEAR TO YOU AND THAT DIPSHIT CLUBBY PEDOMAN. Now understand? =3 Nah, you just gonna cherry pick this like the ‘poor wil victim you are boo hoo’ wanna tussle sweetie? Move your tumblr account on over here and mouth off to us so ol mod can ban your ass. (or someone can point out Gelly’s comment on drama hub so they can save mod the trouble of searching so they can ban her ass quicker.)

Gellygirl is not ignorant; as stated previously, she is actually quite intelligent. Are you sure you're not mistaken when you refer to her as "stupid"? It is common knowledge that if you use the caps lock, you intend to bellow rather than speak; therefore, are you certain that you are not thinking about yourself? Do you need me to write it with coloured paint so that you can better comprehend it?

Also, labelling someone a "dipshit" is equivalent to calling them "stupid," and it's "the poor wee victim you are, boo hoo" rather than "poor wil." xD The more I read this, the more convinced I am that you were referring to yourself when you dubbed Gelly "stupid."

If anything WE TALK IN CAPS BECAUSE IT SEEMS YOU ARE STUPID AND CANT UNDERSTAND UNLESS WE MAKE IT VERY CLEAR TO YOU AND THAT DIPSHIT CLUBBY PEDOMAN. Now understand? =3 Nah, you just gonna cherry pick this like the ‘poor wil victim you are boo hoo’ wanna tussle sweetie? Move your tumblr account on over here and mouth off to us so ol mod can ban your ass. (or someone can point out Gelly’s comment on drama hub so they can save mod the trouble of searching so they can ban her ass quicker.)

No one on our end of the blog-boat will ever block, restrict, or even report certain users. Our blog was created long before you even considered doing the "same" thing, but you decided to use your blog as a shitposting blog rather than a blog that provides actual evidence and honest answers… you're just shitposting about people you hate.

Yes, you would have done the things we don't because, as I said, you're a fake blog, nothing more than that of a terrorist cult… which doesn't exactly help prove you're innocent in any sense of the term. Maybe go outside and touch grass for once, rather than locking yourself up in your mother's old, dirty basement to pretend to be tough online, get your head seen too as well, maybe?

If going after Club-Dreamiverse’s associates now (with clear particular interest in them) is their way of guiltlessly going after Club-Dreamiverse after it was mentioned how it might not look good for them (grand finale much?), most of us can see right through it.

The kind of treatment they give to dissent, and them handing out accusations of that and other things without proof despite saying upfront they always look for proof (twofaced much?), is the reason Gelly and the rest of us defend Club in the first place.

[tanzaniiite]

can i request the trend of tiktok “the faster you get to me the more kisses you get!” with tsukishima, akaashi, bokuto and hinata? 🥺👉👈

“THE FASTER YOU GET TO ME, THE MORE KISSES YOU GET” TREND

w/ tsukishima, akaashi, bokuto, hinata & iwaizumi

requests: OPEN

warnings: talk of pee and poop in iwaizumi’s

a/n: of course you can! thanks for the request! 💓 (also the trend is used more as a prompt than it is as the main focus whoops 🤡)

i added iwaizumi bc he was requested in another ask so i just merged the two. my character limit is still four max!

who gave him the right 🥵

the salt lick himself

this dude is annoyingggg

you already knew what his reaction was gonna be,, so why bother?

welll you just wanted to be like all the other tiktok girls 👉🏽👈🏽

you wait until you see tsukki and yama walking out of the club room and towards you

you’re bracing yourself for the embarrassment

“babe! the faster you get to me, the more kisses you get!”

no shit, he stops in his tracks. yama’s just looking at him like ‘what you finna do?’

you know what he does? turns around and starts walking in THE OTHER DIRECTION

you are… baffled

when finally catch up to him, you’re pouting

“dude, what the hell?”

he glances at you, then flicks your forehead dummy hard

you’re triggered, “did you just flick me?”

this snarky mf is now laughing at you

btw yamaguchi is very uncomfortable rn

tsukishima the leans down, bean pole headass, and kisses your forehead

“sorry i don’t do dumb tik tok trends”

“it’s not dumb! you just didn’t want to kiss me”

he looks at you with an unimpressed look, as if saying, ‘we both know that’s not true’

alas you’re still pouting

yama: “haha this is me, see you guys tmmr” *leaves in awkward*

tsukishima knows your not gonna stop acting like a baby until he gives you what you want

he sighs, walks a couple feet away from you, pulls out his phone and starts recording

“say the thing”

“huh?”

“the trend thing. say it”

your eyes light up so much and tsukki smiles a bit

he’s so soft for you uwu

“the faster you get to me, the more kisses you get!”

because he’s a tall boi, it only takes him a few steps to get to you but when he does, he kisses you hard

like damn, okay sir

when he pulls away you’re flustered asf, he chuckles and stops recording

“happy?”

this poor boy wouldn’t know a tiktok trend if it punched him the face

i hate to say it, but he’s a boomer 😔🤘🏽 just like dadchi

he’s at your house picking you up for a date and your sibling is bombarding him with questions

when you come out, akaashi is like ‘oh thank goodness’

you smile at him, then wack your sibling in their side

“stop bothering him you weirdo!”

“what we’re just having a nice lil chat”

you shake your head and start to walk away but your sibling is holding akaashi back, giving him the typical ‘you hurt her, i kill you’ speech

now you know your boyfriend is great when he’s under pressure but.. this is new territory for him

you remember a trend that you saw a while back and decide to do it now

you know keiji wants your family to like him, so he’ll be conflicted between going to you or staying and listening to your siblings speech

it’s perfect really

so you pull out your phone and start recording

“baby! the faster you get to me, the sooner we can go on our date and the more kisses you’ll get”

my guy just blinks, “it is getting late..”. plus he’s not opposed to the kissing part so he starts to walk towards you

“hey! i’m not done talking to you”

‘that’s true, it would be rude of me to walk away mid conversation… if you could even call it that’ he thinks

you laugh slightly, you can practically see the gears spinning in his head

“keiji come on we don’t have all day”

“don’t you walk away from me”

akaashi sighs loudly. the longer he spends talking to your sibling the less time he has with you. if he walks away, he’s at risk of your sibling hating him. he’s stumped.

suddenly he turns to your sibling, “sorry l/n, we can continue this discussion later. y/n and i have a date that’s very time sensitive. i apologize”

he then walks to you and grabs your hand before walking off

“y’know my crackhead sibling was just mess with you right? you could’ve just walked away”

“i figured, but that’s still rude”

ugh we stan boy who has manners

“so.. um, may i get a kiss now?”

omg he’s so cute i love him 🥺

you grin and pepper his face with a bunch of kisses, making him blush slightly

tbh you don’t even need to ask, this dude is infatuated w/ you

he’ll run to you any day of the week

but what had happened was.. y’all were on a date and bokuto went to go get ice cream

but that was like 15 mins ago and you’re just sitting on the park bench looking like a fool

and ngl you were a little worried bc bokuto is so easy to distract you’re thinking he fell into a pond or something

so you go to look for him and tbh it doesn’t take long cause cmon,, it’s bokuto

he be loud asf

n e ways, there he is in all his glory playing with a German Shepard who looked like it was trying so hard not to bite him

the owner looked nervous asf but was probably too nervous to say something social anixety be like that

bokuto spots you and waves at you frantically

“hey babe! look at this dog! it’s so cute!”

ugh bless him

you send the owner an apologetic look and turn back to bokuto

“it is cute but i think you’re aggravating it.. i don’t want you to get bitten. let’s go”

“it won’t bite me!” *to dog* “right? you’re too good to bite me, yes you are, yes you are”

*inhales* this stubborn kid, so now you got to think of a new tactic

you suddenly remember that bokuto is affectionate x1 mil

he would never miss a chance to be smothered in love

this was as good a time as any to do this trend and save your bf in the process :))

you whip out your phone, “hey baby? the faster you get to me, the more kisses you get”

when i tell you his head SWIVELED

the dude is an owl confirmed 🙌🏽

literally almost trips trying to get to you, now he’s looking at you like an excited puppy ready for pats

the owner gives you thankful look and leaves

bokuto is still staring at you, waiting for his smooches

so you deliver 😌 you grab his face and kiss all around and place a final kiss on his lips

bokuto looks so happy, like he’s smiling so wide rn

all hail tiktok it rly be saving your stupid boyfriend

my bby 🥺

he loves you so so so so much

hinata will do anything for you yes anything

and the feeling is mutual, but sometimes you cannot comprehend what goes on in that mind if his

like,, you could not, for the life of you, understand why he ran into MOVING TRAFFIC

let me tell you what happened

so you were shopping with your friends (and just to clarify y’all were a strip where there’s a bunch of stores on each block)

you guys were just casual walking and then your friend pointed out that it sounded like someone was calling your name

you looked around and there was your orange fuzzy bouncing up and down on the other side of the street

“BABY! BABE! Y/N! LOOK!”

too cute i swear

you smiled and waved, “hi baby!”

“wait until i get across this street imma kiss you so hard!”

cue your friends gagging

you giggle and decide to reference a tiktok cause why not?

“the faster you get to me, the more kisses you can get!”

b-but he thought you were serious

so yes he ran into the middle of a busy street

you are traumatized, paralyzed with fear if you will, you thought your boyfriend was going to die right in front of you

when he finally reached you, you scolded him mother hen mode activated

“why the hell would you do that hinata?!”

uh oh, you used his last name.. not good

“but you said–”

“i was joking!”

oh. now he’s embarrassed and sad bc you’re mad at him

at least he thought you were until you grabbed him and hugged him tightly, “don’t ever do any dumb shit like that again, okay? you scared me”

“i won’t,, but since i did risk my life, can i get a kiss?”

“NO.”

i feel like y’all have a relationship where you guys can be mean(?) to each other w/o getting offended

so you guys are at your house watching Netflix together and he suddenly gets up and leaves your room

“where are you going?”

“gotta piss”

istg i hate the word “piss” but IK he says that instead of “pee”

n e ways you resume watching the show but your bf’s been gone for like 10 mins

you go to the bathroom and knock on the door, “hey, you good in there? it doesn’t take 10 minutes to pee”

you hear him groan, “fuck off”

and then,, it all clicks, “are you constipated?!”

“FUCK OFF”

now you’re laughing your ass of bc what the fuck

“don’t clog my toilet nasty”

“y/n i swear to god if you don’t leave me alone–”

“what? are you gonna fling your doo doo on me?”

you finally stop teasing him and go back to your room

you send him a text, ‘still constipated? 💩’

‘breaking up w/ you is looking mighty tempting rn 🥴’

‘rude 🤧 but hey, the faster you poop, the more kisses you get’

this dude left you on read

and didn’t return until 20 mins later

“damn i know my bathroom stinks now”

“shut up and give me my kisses”

you raise an eyebrow, “i– you took 20 mins”

“okay.. did you want me to get up mid shit and come to you?”

you don’t why but that shit had you cackling, you reach up and pull him close to you

you give him a couple of pecks and a deep kiss

aww he’s smiling 🥺

“i love you my lil doo doo machine”

he pushed you off your bed

tanzaniiite © 2020 — all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or copy. do not plagiarize. thank you.

[wheeler-beretta-harwood]

So I’m writing in your inbox because this is easier than making a new comment on each of the fluffy number request you have made so far. Last night I had the worst panic attack I’ve ever had after getting into a huge fight with my husband. so I’m legit laying in bed all day watching cartoons, eating Chinese food, coloring and reading these magical golden nuggets you keep writing.

#30 I have been watching AEW for over a year now and I still don’t know which one of Matt and which one is Nick

#29 This is giving me seriously 😻 for Mox. Of course he has always been hot, but this is making me vibe hard.

#25 See above

#21 Kyle looks like he got hit in the face with a shovel when he was 12 and it never healed all the way, but this made me swoon. “His cheeks turn a soft shade of pink, but now he is confident enough to mouth a silent 'I love you' in your direction”

#1 this is something that I would dream about happening to me in high school 💕

#15 love this. Do you think Kenny is a dog or cat man?

#6 I was grinning like a fool reading this

#7 I always feel so inappropriate crushing on Hook, but I’d totally be down to being the big spoon.

#11 I need to hear OC giggle.

#20 Are you a mind reader? The last day and half Ive been all about Chuck. I watched like two interviews of his and I need more. This just made it a legit crush. And know I have to write a story or something with him. In my mind he can’t draw and the reader just figures out what he meant with time and the caption

#18 your such an amazing writer you have me cheesin over Bobby fish

#5 oooooh Trent 🤤 🙌🏼

#14 Ricky as the bragger makes perfect sense

#24 this is why I’m so ashamed of having a max caster crush because this would 100% be him in real life. No shame at all grinning at that old lady like he just didn’t honk his ladies tits 😂

Your the best and I can’t wait to read more sweet tits!!!

Okay first of all: Are you feeling better yet? I am freaking out right now! Message me if you want to, I am here.

Also: Do I need to fly over and take care of your husband? Because I'll do it! (I've saved enough money for a flight to the US...I just can't get back to Germany then, so you'll be stuck with me.)

And now, trying to make you think nice thoughts (WTF?! Weirdest sentence I've written in....ever.)

#30: Ah, the Bucks Dilemma. I see you're familiar with it. Took me forever to tell them apart. I now know that Matt is the one that annoys me, and Nick is the one I like. Super not helpful for you, though.

#29: at some point in life, I have fallen out of love with Mox. But this little fluff game has put him back in my head. If he's staying there?Time will tell

#21: Poor Kyle!! (I actually laughed harder than I'd like to admit.) I think he has his very own, sweet charm. At least it is working on me.

#15: Kenny loves them all. I know he has a cat, so maybe he's leaning more to cats, but he'd just be as delighted if you brought home a dog one day. Kenny and animals is the kind of thing that warms my cold, dead heart. I actually have a few pics of him cuddling dogs.

#6: Girl, let me tell you. I am not an Adam Cole person. He pisses me off. Which is good for him, I guess, he's a heel after all. But everytime see him with Britt, I think he must be an adorable boyfriend. Which then melts my brain, because guy's a douche...the duality is too much for me to comprehend.

#11: I'd kill to hear OC giggle at this point.

#20: I don't know why, but Chuckie has never crossed my mind. Until now. I feel like writing these little notes would be totally Chuck...but I also don't know much about him. Please, please write a story with him. Make me fall in love 💗

#18: writing for Bobby Fish was actually a tough one. Not that I don't like him, I do. And I wanted to include him in this game, so I'm happy you enjoyed this little bit about him.

#5: Goddamn Trent 🤤 he's creeping his way into my heart.

#24: Max Caster.....that's it. I don't have anything else to say. 💚💜

[khaleesiofalicante]

Ykow I was rereading the shadowhunter academy and the shadow market (cuz I haven't in a while) and I got sooo sad after Matthew's story because in both we can see him enjoying taking care of others soooo much and just being there for them but now he can't even truly take care of himself. And he hated himself and wasn't close to his family even before the accident and the drinking.

Now while a lot of people are pissed because of Paris I think that this was the best option. And I don't think that when it comes to time that it was the worst or even bad either. Tho of course when they learn what they missed they will be angry with themselves and feel super guilty. Even so:

Even if we want them there to help look for Lucie neither is really in the right state right now and probably would slow them down. Cordelia is doubting herself soooo much right now and would think Lucie's disappearance was somehow her fault and would dissappear into herself. Same for Matthew and especially after almost losing his brother.

And of course we would feel sad for James and we want all the miscommunication to end but he literally JUST learned about this. He has to have time to really comprehend exactly what has been happening. Beyond this he HAS to be by himself for a bit. He has been under the bracelet's influence for 4 YEARS. He has to figure himself out again and that just won't really happen if he jumps straight into marriage and probably both Matthew and James feeling the bond differently in such a close proximity ( when Jace was under Sebastian's control Alec felt the bond differently BUT he felt his life-force still and when parabatai are close the connectionis stronger)

Now why I think that it's a GOOD thing that they went to Paris. Matthew truly does love taking care of people. He may not be in the best condition right now but while we think that Cordelia is gonna be there to help him I think that the reverse will happen. Matthew was introduced for the first time as mother hen fairchild or the caretaker of the group. He KNOWS how to take care of people. We also see that his love for Cordelia is actually real and when he sees that she is not doing good he will help her. And I think that THAT may be his wake up call. Seeing a person he loves in so much pain and he "the caretaker" can't sober enough to help.

I'm not saying he will sober up for her but sober up for ACTUALLY doing what he enjoys doing. Helping people.

As for Cordelia she is strong and will find a way to both detach from Lilith and have a happy ever after with James. With the help of her friends

I love, love, love this.

It's such a clearly written explanation that makes so sense.

Tbh, I was so pissed when I read that scene. But now months after reading it, I'm like...It kinda makes sense?

I think that is also an important factor. The last couple of chapters they happened so quickly - and while as you very clearly explained there are deeper factors at play and these influences make a lot of sense - there is also the fact that all of this was just spur of the moment. Them going to Paris. James chasing after them. Will trying to save Lucie. They are all just in the moment trying to do what feels right then and there.

Honestly, who we are to judge?

And you are 100% right about Matthew. He is such a care taker. And even though he might have feelings for cordelia and even IF something happens in Paris, I don't think he ever intended to take her to Paris for himself. He just wanted to help her. I agree.

I really hope things get settled for all of them soon. They are just jumping from one thing to another. They really need to take a moment and think. But poor bebes can't catch a break :(

[onlyhereforangst]

WWR 

Ok y’all if you thought 18x05 was long, you in for a trip. Get ready for lots of caps, lots of not PG-13, and lots of overanalysis. I hope this lives up to the hype since it took me forever and a day (literally almost every minute of the 20 minutes of scenes took practically an hour to breakdown, I have a problem I know). Anyways, let’s get sweaty under the cut because the day ain’t young no more 👇🏼

Their bickering in the car but Nick smiling the whole time is a huge married vibe but also he’s so happy she’s alive and will take any shit she gives him vibe and I’m here for it. Pluuuuus Ellie avoiding nicks question about the phone call 😭 he’s so freaking concerned for her (he’s been through his own version of PTSD), his voice drops all the teasing and he actually opens up a little bit - really wants to make sure she’s ok. He needs to be there for her and ugh poor Ellie, those walls are going back up after that hug- a momentary lapse in her usual self. She’s so far outside of her comfort zone talking about feelings and weaknesses and she immediately deflects. Nick respecting that deflection is also huge growth for him, knows it’s not ok to push through like a person like him would normally do and force her hand. He knows she needs space but also clearly ready to be that ear to listen or shoulder to cry on whenever she needs it.

His joke about notable mustaches only to be the butt of the joke about using the word notable later is hiiiiiilarious. 

Her comment about Zillow 😂 um excuse me ellie you looking for houses and to settle down 👀 but then(!!) Nick pushes her down the stairs first when shots start, getting her out of harm’s way and putting himself in danger like he always does my heart 😩 like he’s still on the stairs by the time she’s in a cell “safe.” And side note damn they are good shots, oof. 

The toilet bowl scene is easily one of my favorites. Nick freaking out over Ellie moving hers and him not being able to had me DYING. Like legit cackling over his worry she’s suddenly way stronger than him 🤣🤣 and then he gets SO pissed they took their car hahaha like so mad he hugs the damn wall in frustration. But then he claims he’ll rip out the bars of the window (you know, to make up for not being able to move his toilet and still prove he’s macho) and Ellie’s comment about superhuman strength & his agreement LOL. His anxiety level of being trapped and more so Ellie being trapped is getting to him already. He is reaching for any possible way to get them (read: her) out of there safely it doesn’t matter that the plan sounds outrageous. Cue him moving back to pissed and breaking the toilet with his damn foot like 🥵 we get you strong Nick but no need to show off. Hot damn. His “I really think we’re stuck in here” after that IDK why but had be laughing again. I’m pretty sure I said “no shit Sherlock” at my TV watching live because thank you Captain Obvious. 

Aaaaaand then when she pauses and finds the bomb bricks but goes so quiet oooooof he’s on high alert. You can practically hear his heart pounding and then he goes and starts panicking slightly when she doesn’t respond with our first use of a first name, “Ellie we have a wall between us, what is it?” But his tone is so frantic and his eyes are darting around putting the whole picture together and my heart aches for him. He’s starting to realize just how helpless he is to save her. The exact thing he likely swore he’d set out to never let happen again (Ellie in danger) after last episode, is happening again. And this time, it’s not like he can go hunt the guys down, he’s quite literally stuck. Helpless with no way out. Aaand here’s where Nick starts to lose his patience. Pissed at himself for not saving her before, not being able to save her now. Pissed at everything. He cannot comprehend how she is in this situation AGAIN and he can do nothing. But oh lord, he doesn’t even realize it’s about to get worse...

Him brooding over this crappy situation in a corner and being the cautious one is so unlike him (but also so telling as to how unnerved he is by her being in danger once again and not wanting to do anything to make it worse) and Ellie calls him on being “so careful, cowboy” and hot damn again she really does like a man in uniform doesn’t she??? 👀🔥 and she not picky on the type of uniform either 😏 but Nick immediately deflects because he’s not *quite* ready to talk feelings so let’s get down to business about counting bullets BUT the second Ellie starts to worry again he goes into hyperdrive protective and caring boyfriend partner. Without hesitation he tells her they’re going to figure it out because goddamnit he HAS to figure this out for her. He can’t fail, again. And he’s so so SO worried about her & her mental health right now and I sincerely love it. I know Ellie doesn’t want to have that conversation but I stan (I can’t believe I’m using that word, I’m not hip enough for that word) an empathetic boyfriend who supports their significant other when facing mental health issues (like PTSD in Ellie’s case) ❤️❤️❤️ Nick breaks my heart, he wants to be there for her- wants to be the one she feels comfortable enough to open up to and he just gets so dejected when she rejects his probing again (but I don’t blame her, it’s *hard* to open up about these difficult topics), his body language slumped over the bars and tone is just so defeated even if he tries to snap back into his usual Torres self (newsflash it ain’t working bruv because she’s not totally wrong in calling you hovery). Yet naturally he gets annoyed because he JUST CARES ELLIE DAMMIT LET HIM CARE. Like you go through this entire list of him trying to protect you from everything that could go wrong because HE CARES. HE WAS TERRIFIED HE LOST YOU ELLIE. HE TRULY THOUGHT HE’D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN. NEVER TOUCH YOU AGAIN. NEVER TELL YOU HE LOVES YOU. HE CARES. AND HE CANT LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU AGAIN. HE LITERALLY WANTS TO SAVE YOU (his own words because god damn this show plays with my emotions 😭😭) FROM ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING BECAUSE HE COULDN’T SAVE YOU FROM GETTING KIDNAPPED AND HAVING TO FIGHT YOUR WAY OUT OF A PLANE RIGGED TO BLOW. Ok done with yelling for now but man this part gets me. The implications are so important even over trivial stuff. He felt helpless and Nick Torres cannot do helpless, so he tries do to everything else in his power to keep her away from any danger no matter how little it seems. Even hot coffee is too much for his precious babe and while he knows she’s not some delicate, fragile flower- he knows she can hold her own (& has called her a badass as proof), his heart can’t possibly take another explosion on an airstrip. Even if that airstrip is something like a burnt tongue. Ok I die now 😩😩😩

But let’s come back to living because this bullshit Nick “I always tell you what’s going on with me...you ask I tell you” exCUSE ME. Is this the same man who claimed he was being overprotective and that Ellie was like a sister to him?!???!! Yeah, I call bullSHIT that you tell Ellie what’s going on with you. (And Ellie calls BS too, btw buddy). 

But when Ellie finally decides to open a little I love it. I think she finally understood at least just a bit that he just, simply cares about her & her well-being. So she gives him a tiny taste of what she’s going through. And god Nick’s face when he understands the gravity of what she’s having to face mentally. Like I know he knew but I don’t think he knew just how bad. And you can just see that hatred towards his perceived failure turning inward once again as the mood shifts in these cells to somber. Plus Ellies last comment here with them *needing* to find a way out of there- girrrrrrrl poor baby girl 😭 she’s struggling so hard right now and trying so hard to not let it show and not let it get to her but you know she’s terrified. You know she’s desperately triggered. UGH Ellie 💔💔

We cut to Ellie desperately trying to figure out a solution to getting the fuck outta there and once again my heart aches for her triggered self. Nick seems desolate and frustrated, shutting down slowly as it seems less and less likely they’ll get out. Buuuuut then the GUM. Ahahahahahah Ellieeeeeee how do you know about that last piece of gum for “breath emergencies”??? AHHHH this man’s jeans are so damn tight (& yes trust me I would know, I observe) but like also you staring at a spot on said tight jeans that’s only maybe five inches from a different outline 👀👀👀 GIRL I FEEL YOUUUU. GET. IT. Plus she knows exactly what he calls it and I freaking love that. His excuse for why he has to save it is also hilarious 🤣 his breath emergency later hmmm doubt you wanted to save it to MacGyver something Nick sooooo you got another thing in mind?? 😏 and then LMAO it’s mushy because his pants are sweaty I’m rolllllling. Your pants too tight Nick? (this is not humanly possible btw) ALSO is this why later Ellie says she expected Nick to be more sweaty??? If it is and now rewatching I kind of feel like it is, omg what a great callback on her part 🤣🤣

Nick trying to coach her on the proper way of opening the cell door is hilarious because bitch which one of you was able to move their toilet Nick 👀😂 but oh damn now it’s when shit goes downhill fast. 

Nick not being able to see anything and his frantic questioning is amazing compared to Ellies absolute panic realizing she is once again facing down a bomb. I feel like her calming breaths are a coping technique Jack has been helping her with but man kill me now, Nick’s face?? When he realizes what he thought was helplessness earlier has just shot yo exponentially??? Oof with a capital O. This poor man needs a damn drink and yet all he can have is a club soda boy I *feel you* on that (side note #letsgetthisbabyoutmybellyasap). His woman has gone and gotten herself into another bomb encounter for the second time in a week. And he CANT DO A DAMN THING ABOUT IT. Can you imagine the absolute inner (and outer, give it a sec) freak out he’s having?? He wants to save her from hot coffee for Christ’s sake and now he can’t save her from a rigged bomb. Talk about a shitty situation. 

I just love the Torres Teachable Moment little discussion. Like Nick’s smirk gets me. I really don’t think he knew she had a name for it or realized that she caught on to what he was doing (trying to help her grow as an agent without being obvious or “degrading”). And then we move on to comparing arm length and I crack up 😂 “my arms are longer than yours” and “no they’re disproportionately short for your body” HAHAHA like what the hell have you guys been doing to know this?? Do you stand *that* close together with your arms down to know their lengths comparatively and how much do you stare at Nick, Ellie? Daaaaaaamn. From his gum to his arms to his body I see you 👀 I’m not hating tho I would too 😏 I think what I loved most about this whole jail scene (aside the ending obvs) is the quick flipping back and  forth from joking & teasing to dead serious & worried. Like they’re both trying so hard to keep it above board and light- trying desperately not to think of the implications of what’s happening but then (usually Nick) those intrusive thoughts sneak through and he can’t help but redirect them back to serious. It shows their inner warrings with themselves and just how hard this is for both of them. How much they want to appear strong and unflappable but they both know deep down the whole situation is eating away at them. And Nick bringing up her standing on a bomb only moments before he tells her he’s going to shoot the wall- OOF. Ellie’s genuine terror for him injuring himself and her then not being able to do a damn thing about it because she’s standing on a FREAKING BOMB is so painful to watch. Like she’s stuttering she can’t get it out fast enough, she needs to stop him, she can’t fathom him getting hurt while she’s helpless (uh, hello there theme of the episode how have you been). Nick’s facial expressions through this scene are also so telling. He goes from “this isn’t a big deal” to “oh shit she’s panicking” to “holy shit is she going to open up, is she really talking about this” to “fuck it’s my fault she had to go through that and it’s tearing me up inside every second” to “hooooooly fuck is she about to say what I think she’s about to say?? Is she about to confirm what I know deep inside but am too afraid to say aloud?? Is it true??” And ELLIE OH ELLIE. Reliving that *has* to be hard, has to. To finally bring it up after she’s been dodging it all damn day...you know the thought of him getting seriously injured had her more than rattled. And she cracks open those cement walls around her heart so briefly, the glimpse in it provides I think a turning point for Nick. Finally seeing that it’s not just him, she’s in deep too. Even if she can’t say it, can’t say she was fighting to see him again 😩💔 he knows. She says he only has one bullet left and to save it and they’ll figure some other way with tears in her eyes my HEART. But Nick gets it. Nick gets it because he’s been in the exact same situation. His eyes as they process the implication of her words and the fear for his life running through them 🥺 his simple “ok” is so unlike his normal self, you just know he’s once again doing anything and everything he can for. Even if that means standing down and not fighting for his way (the natural instinct for him). He knows what she needs is reassurance he won’t accidentally shoot himself. So he does it 😭 But him pacing (as a man of action suddenly faced with forced inaction) & Ellie begging for an inventory over and over (a woman of logics and data faced with PTSD) is so painful. You can tell they’re both struggling and neither wants to admit it but also they both need to do something - for Nick that becomes finally deciding to shoot a foothold in the wall and for Ellie that meant trying to go over their facts again and again but suddenly she’s once again terrified Nick is going to injure himself. The one man she fought to see again might hurt or even kill himself and she can’t do a damn thing because she’s standing on a bomb for fuck’s sake. Aaaaaaand cue the blow up. Cue Nick voicing his worst fears of Ellie accidentally triggering the bomb. Cue Ellie getting defensive because she’s so damn used to be babied and treated like she can’t take care of herself. Cue the “overprotective hovery man crap” line that had me rolling on the floor (tbt ROFL). Cue Ellie calling herself a girl but Nick calling her a woman like DAMN get me where it hurts Nick- that right there is a man who respects the living hell out of this fiiiiiiine representation of a woman in front of him 🔥. Cue Ellie saying because I’m “me” like um FUCK YES IT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE YOU AND HE’S TOO SCARED OF LOSING YOU ELLIE. Cue Nick finally losing his shit and getting reeeeeealllllllll like hallelujah do you hear the church bells?! Even Ellie knows to finally pause and listen. Nick never loses it on her, never. She knows this shift is serious and it’s happening. And omg his confession can I just have a moment of silence for the GROWTH.

Thank you, it needed commemorating. The same Nick who didn’t belong to a team is the Nick that is out here claiming he can’t sit idly by while the love of his life might get blown up again. He’s NOT OKAY WITH THAT AND NEITHER AM I. NOT AFTER THIS GODDAMN SCENE. His head bob accentuating just- how- important this is to him is so in character (thank you Wilmer) and theeeeeeen shoot me the way he has to fucking collect himself from almost crying. The emotion- there just aren’t words. Literally he has to look up to the sky and blink back those tears you know are threatening to fall at the thought of the woman who he still *technically* hasn’t told that he loves her could potentially die, again, for the second time in a week. So guess the hell what? He’s telling her (sort of). He’s telling her he would do anything, anything, put himself in danger’s way if it meant there was even the tiniest chance it would save her. Pardon the callback but- HE WOULD RISK HIS LIFE TO SAVE HERS. DON’T YOU REMEMBER ELLIE. YOU SAID I KNOW. DO YOU KNOW NOW. DO YOU. BECAUSE GOOD LORD CAN YOU MARRY THIS MAN ALREADY BEFORE I DIVORCE MY HUSBAND AND DO IT (jk love you honey 😘). But like damn, she knows it now. That look- she bites her lip and has tears in her own eyes at the realness she can feel even through a cement block wall. It’s a feeling she’s not used to. She isn’t used to being a person someone would literally risk death for. She doesn’t think she deserves it (sip on that like whiskey, mull it over, let it sink in & cry about it). Even if she knows she doesn’t need saving (and so does Nick), she finally realizes it isn’t about that. It isn’t about he feels like she can’t do it. It’s about the overwhelming pull that your life isn’t greater than the one you love. That love, real true love, is knowing you would do anything for that other person (and they the same) because the world would be worse off without them in it. And Nick will never be okay with a world without Ellie. Never. Their joint quiet after his confession is so powerful. There’s no claims of falsehood, there’s no trying to quip back at him, there’s no trying to stop him. It just settles into the room- into their hearts. They’ve crossed a line and it means so, so much. Nick can feel a weight lifted off his shoulders as he loads his gun and gets ready and Ellie can feel a weight settle on hers from the need to reciprocate. And not out of pity, it would be out of truth. But she knows it isn’t the right time. She knows she has to do it, and she will. She held back earlier when she couldn’t say she was fighting for Nick, but his outburst and confession gave her the courage in this scene. She finally has confirmation she means to him like he means to her. And she has to know, she has to know if he means it or if it was heat of the moment so when the dust settles she inquires, “what’s going on over there?” A pulse check. A way of asking without asking—did you mean that? And the shock of confirmation of her face as Nick, dead as a doornail serious says, “close calls make you live harder”….holy hell. That’s the moment it snaps for her, everything snaps into place—the agony he’s gone through not only this week, but the past couple years of close calls. He’s done beating around the bush, he’s living harder, he’s going all in, he’s getting what he wants. He refuses to let anything like a damn jail cell rigged to blow stand in his way. And she knows, she knows just how important she is to him. He might not have said those three words, but that phrase- that phrase was a direct window into Nick Torres’ soul. And by god I love it. 

But Nick pulling a prank on Ellie like that is also so Nick- the little shit. The genuine concern in her voice when she yells his name 😭 like dude, her worst fear, something causing ongoing trauma in her head right now is the ONE THING you decide to tease her with??? I should expect nothing less but damn that’s low 😂 her checking on his status update with Gibbs though feels like such a role reversal from earlier and it cracks me up, side note. 

When they’re getting ready to stand down the returning brother and Nick gets in position next to the wall but can’t even look ahead- he’s just staring at Ellie, oof. In that moment he’s brutally and painfully aware she can’t hide for cover. Not only can she not hide, he can’t cover her because he’s (locked in a cell but also) out of bullets. He’s once again near helpless and the woman he loves (and has now finally kind of told) is a sitting duck. Someone get this poor man a damn club soda, I repeat. 

And the little talk between the two parties- I love that Ellie takes point. Love that Nick lets her. Like damn that’s a supportive partner right there and I 👏🏼 AM 👏🏼 HERE 👏🏼 FOR 👏🏼 IT. He knows she can handle this shit and he will willingly let her. But nooooooowwwww weee gettinggggg to the goooooood paaaaaaart. 

Ok first, “good to see you” - this man has missed her face. Straight up dying to see her in the flesh. Just listening to her voice and not seeing the emotions written on her face is not enough. Seeing her alive, smiling at him, he needed it. But of course, let’s keep it light, act natural Nicholas. 

“I thought you’d be sweatier” - excUUUUSE ME ELLIE. Not only did you just call out his reference to his sweaty jeans earlier, you also WANT TO SEE HIM SWEATY DON’T YOU. THAT SMIRK SAYS YES DON’T LIE. And honestly, I don’t blame you shhhhh.

“The day is young” - can I get another excUUUUSE ME NICK. Words- they don’t- function. Because that knowing smile of hers- SHE’S OKAY WITH IT. GET YOUR MIND OUT THE GUTTER YOU TWO THERE’S A HOMICIDAL MAN UPSTAIRS. YOU’VE GOT TIME TO GET SWEATY TOGETHER TONIGHT YOU HEAR ME. THAT DAY IS YOUNG AND SO ARE YOU SO GET THOSE BRICKS AND THEN YOU CAN GET TO BANGING LATER. I just fucking can’t with their smirks. I can’t. This isn’t the normal banter, this is the fuck me banter and I’m okay with it. Because right after the I-wanna-get-in-your-sweaty-jeans banter we have Ellie putting her HAND ON HIS GD HIP AS HE PASSES ONLY TO MOVE UP TO BOTH SHOULDERS. AND THEEEEEEEN HOLY HELL SOMEONE LIGHT A MATCH BECAUSE THIS BITCH ABOUT TO EXPLODE FROM SEXUAL TENSION. Is it possible to rewatch this scene a thousand times in slo-mo and still not have watched it enough? Because that is me. That will always be me. How are they so in tandem, so in sync as they look up mere inches from each other- directly into the other’s eyes knowing exactly how serious this situation is and yet pausing to freaking gaze longingly (read: have eye sex) at each other. And I’m sorry Nick looks down at her lips like three times??? For a good while too?? Sir nothing you said required you to look there. nothing. And also there’s no way his hands aren’t on her I thiiiiiiink they’re on her upper arms (based on the last shot as he’s walking to get the bricks) but like hold her tight Nick please. Also while Ellie doesn’t look at his lips (in this scene) holy shit those are some come-hither eyes if I’ve ever seen them. “I’m sure” ABOUT YOU. SHE’S SURE ABOUT YOU NICK. SHE’S SURE SHE’S READY TO GET SWEATY WITH YOU NICK. Like literally, this girl had been leaning up against the cement wall for a looooong time before he has to pass her and now, NOW that Nick has to pass her- SHE STANDS UP TALL. TO GIVE HIM NO SPACE. WHILE SHE’S STANDING ON A BOMB. BITCH YOU WANTED IT. That was a damn power move Ellie and I am not mad about it. She so easily could have leaned back, given him a ton of space to get around, but nooooooo she stands right there, middle of the tight opening and says yes Nick come get 1mm from my face, touch me here, touch me there, touch me everywhere don’t care 👀 while you pass. I’m sure I’m okay with it because you’ve just eye fucked me and it’s exactly what I wanted. And I mean come oooooooon just the underlying emotion behind both of their words. Nick isn’t just asking if she won’t move her foot- it’s his way of asking if she’s ok and she looks SO much better, more relaxed now that he’s with her. The tense, anxiety-ridden Ellie that was asking for inventory or snapping about him being overprotective, is now at ease despite still standing on said bomb- all because Nick is right there with her and if that doesn’t make you 🥺😭 I don’t know what will. Like she can’t even take her eyes off of him even after rude brother interrupts this gold moment of theirs until Nick has already completely turned his head towards the dude. She’s just so relieved to see him standing there, so close to her, feeling his warmth underneath her hands again. 

Side note to prove my earlier point, when Nick casually reaches through to throw the bags of bricks through the door Ellie is leaning on the wall and THERE’S SO MUCH ROOM. HE COULD HAVE EASILY PASSED. 

Nick looks like he literally wants to murder the guy, enraged that he’s the one who put Ellie in this situation again. We would’ve seen swan!Nick if it wasn’t for Ellie choosing this moment to finally share her feelings. Because remember- she’d decided she was going to reciprocate but knew it wouldn’t come off the right way before. Now’s the time. Now when the immediate threat to their lives is gone (excluding bomb of course). Now when they’re alone, they’re together, and she can look him in the eye so he knows she’s serious. He can read the truth in her eyes rather than doubt her words said across a jail cell wall. 

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you” - well damn that got your attention didn’t it Nick??? So used to putting Ellie first, putting yourself second its weird to hear it come from someone else isn’t it? That someone is worried for your safety? That someone needs you living and breathing just as much as you need them doing the same? His eyes immediately change from Imma kill this man to did I just hear this woman right. 

“I’m not okay with you getting blown up either” - first off, the parallelism is what makes this absolute *chef’s kiss* because Nick has literally zero chance of being blown up if he runs after this dude. Shot? Yes. But blown up? No. Ellie has chosen these words precisely to call back to what Nick said earlier. To make sure he’s aware she understood the weight of his earlier confession and is making the same one. They are on equal footing- their feelings are not only reciprocated but just as strong as the other. She could’ve said anything else but choosing his exact words was so poignant in the moment. It’s like the difference between saying “I love you” & “I love you too” compared to “I love you” & “I really care about you.” And the way she says it with such confidence, she isn’t playing around, she didn’t even *have* to bring up their previous conversation, she’s got determination etched across her face with a ghost of a smile on her lips. She means this, and it’s dying to bust out of her. And so the shock to Nick’s system is quite frankly understandable. This is Ellie - someone who hours ago didn’t even want to tell him who she was trying to make a phone call to. Ellie who has walls the size of Mt. Everest erected around her heart. Ellie who could have brushed off his earlier comments said from the safety of a cement wall between them. But no. This Ellie is all-in, she’s ready to own up to her side. She’s ready to lay it on the line just like him. Equal footing. If Nick is ready to jump, then so is she. And he’s just so taken aback- glancing at her lips, blinking through the shock as he processes. Processes the weight of her words on their relationship. He knows he could laugh it off, make a joke about his superhuman strength not allowing him to get blown up, or he could man up and take them both forward. Ellie doesn’t even flinch under his stare, if anything she becomes more confident, more resolute in her words and her stance. Her eyes searching his for what his reaction will be and for a brief moment I swear there’s a tiny bit of worry, a tiny bit of unease that he wasn’t ready for her to repeat his words back to him. 

“Well, what are we gonna do about that?” Oh YOU HEARD. That smirrrrrrrrk Nicholas stop iiiiiit, Eleanor’s standing on a bomb you don’t need to light her on fire!! Because this is a challenge, a goddamn challenge. Staring straight into her soul saying, “oh you want me and I want you? How about we blow this popsicle stand and go get fucking sweaty ok? Because that’s what I want to do about that 👀🔥🔥🔥” and not only is the smirk sexy as hell but it’s also got this glint of elation. Like he could not be happier she said those words back to him. That he finally took Ziva’s advice, wasn’t a wuss and WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT IT PAID OFF. But his words also tell of a little nervousness. And not necessarily in a bad way, more as in a leaving it to her way. Putting her in the driver’s seat of this relationship knowing it’s where she’ll feel most comfortable. Given all she’s been through, like all of it not just the past week, he knows that she needs to be in control of how fast they move. And once again his chivalry and thoughtfulness of her is just- I cry. He doesn’t just assault her with what they should do next, he leaves it for her to decide. For her to weigh in on how far and how fast she wants to take them. And by the little shy smile Ellie gives him- she knows what he means. She knows her words have hit their mark and that he respects her enough to let her lead the way. And now she has to make her decision, a decision we DON’T GET TO SEE BUT I’M NOT BITTER IT’S FINE. But a decision nonetheless. 

I honestly go two ways on this- the most obvious of hell yes they kissed right then and there and started *something* and then the bitter realistic one of they were probably interrupted by Gibbs (who was literally outside like right then based on timing) but also may have just continued to stare into each other’s eyes- still slightly taken aback by everything they just shared and what it means for them. Still unsure of how they “work” as people who *love* each other, not just partners. Having that reality sink in as they continue to face off and wait for a rescuer. That reality sinking in could lead to obviously very good things (that we better see on our screen or I will fucking riot) or a slight nervous closing-off. Like not quite closed off closed off, but a tiny retreat when the gravity of the day falls down on both of them. I don’t think either will believe they only said what they did because of the situation/moment they were in, but it’s still a lot to deal with after all is said and done. I sincerely hope they unpack this in the coming episodes and give us some direction of what happened after that jail cell scene. 

I love the Torres told McGee about what happened today and I’m so curious about how much detail he told him lol but I also love that McGee has now received genuinely good advice from Torres twice now (the one about the reunion and now this). Just goes to show you the brotherly bond they have ❤️ but also that the advice was the same advice he literally lived out that day. Close calls make you live harder, almost as an affirmation to himself (Nick about what happened), but as something he knew McGee needed to hear too- they all do. 

And then this bullpen scene - one, how far of a time jump is this and whyyyyyyy won’t they telllll meeeeee. They hate me. Two, Ellie coming over so close just to hand off a file that he doesn’t even look at 👀 three, THEIR SMIRKS. WHAT DO THEY MEAN. Because Nick is holding back the world’s biggest smile as Ellie gets close to him and Ellie is just all nonchalantly checking him out with a brief eye-sex scene. Like damn this fine man doesn’t want me to blow up and I don’t want him to blow up either 🔥 Now does this mean they absolutely got together and did the nasty after they got out of that cell? Of course not. We can only dream, and write fics. This ending scene is very reminiscent of what NCIS loves to do with their power of open-ended persuasion at the end of an ep, see On Fire for example. The ending music and comments combined with the shot of Gibbs leaving in the elevator is literally there to try and persuade you that he killed Xavier. In this ep, the ending music and voiceover combined with their looks at each other is there to try and persuade you they totally got it oooooon. Not to say they didn’t, but I don’t trust NCIS one damn bit. 

All in all, cannot *wait* to see where they take ellick the rest of the season. Emily hyped this ep and man, she did NOT disappoint. Let’s see that shift that is going to ripple for the rest of the season now like Wilmer promised 🤞🏼

Oh and my only side note because this was insanely insanely long and if you’re still reading I’m proud of you for hanging in there with me & my screams into the void, send me an ask screaming back it’s ok I’ll love you for it—waaaas the whole team poking fun at Torres for using the word notable was downright hilarious. That and Gibbs trying to do everything himself, I can’t. Comedic gold. I love. I would go from dying of laughter to intense emotions so fast in this ep I got whiplash and for that, I am thankful to Gina. She always delivers 🔥

[thattimdrakeguy]

I’m not social scientist, if that’s even a thing, but I gotta be honest, I don’t feel like Chris Rock was tryna be a dick. Like saying she could be in a movie about a bad ass woman isn’t exactly an insult.

I can get why the specific context for it would lead her to be sensitive about it. The intention doesn’t always end up causing the reaction they wanted. That’s natural.

But I just can’t really feel like Chris Rock was trying to be malicious. It was in bad taste, assuming he knew about her condition.

I’m seeing a lot of ‘WHAT IF--’ blah blah blah sort of nonsense a lot online today, but ultimately I don’t see the point, because this isn’t about imaginary hypotheticals. I’m also seeing a lot of people act like Chris Rock is misogynistic, or even racist (Which I can’t comprehend how that works in this situation.)

For me I plain don’t think he meant anything that bad to begin with. It was a risky joke that he probably should’ve realized was in terrible bad taste. ‘Cause either she’s going to think it’s funny, maybe slightly a bit empowering if she happens to think G.I. Jane was a good movie and liked that character, or be a bit pissed ‘cause, well, she’s sensitive about being fucking bald, which she has the right to be.

But given what he actually said in the end, I don’t think he deserved to get smacked and cussed at over it.

Jokes can hurt. And while I don’t advocate violence, there are times where I’m not gonna act like Mr. Virtuous over it, ‘cause fuck it, sometimes people get hit for something they say and it’s hard to act like it isn’t just, you know?

So I’m just speaking in the context of what happened in this very specific situation.

I think people have a bad habit of reading way too far into things. And I also think people pretending like someone should be physically attacked for all the more that was actually said are way too excitable, and anyone acting like Chris Rock is some statement of free speech are being ridiculous.

It was a risky, and very potentially insensitive (I don’t feel like he was making fun of her condition specifically to say all the way insensitive) joke, that ended up hurting someone’s feelings, and someone got ahead of themselves--but also had some very worrying excuse for it that I don’t think warrants what he did the way he and some others think.

Like even though I’m more titled to Chris Rock’s side, I think people calling him “The Adult In The Room” when he’s the one that made a joke in potential poor taste (Depending if he knew or not) is silly.

It’s an overall dumb situation.

Regarding if Will Smith should be arrested. It’s up to Chris Rock, man. I don’t think it’s any of our business. If the guy that was assaulted doesn’t wanna press charges, then I respect the decision. Like, if they want to handle a different way than bringing police into it, then so be it. It’s up to him.

We’re not living their lives.

Also I seen someone blame Jada, but like, wtf, she has the right to be upset about it. I don’t think it’s right to blame someone who’s sensitive about a damn medical condition. She can’t control her husband. He’s his own man, he can make his own choices. I don’t think that should immediately reflect on her.

[hornsandthings]

solemn steppes

pairing: cassian (ACoTaR) x reader

summary: reader, a student of cassian’s defence training in the illyrian mountains, has a bad session. after, when he checks up on her, cassian is given an intimate reminder on how bleak and cruel illyrian life can be. angst and fluff.

note: agh, i got really stuck on this one and i think i’m a bit rusty. i tried, but decided to just get it out there hehe. i hope cass is somewhat in character... haven’t read ACoTaR in ages (something i should remedy...) // wc: 1771

+++

the illyrian mountains were certainly beautiful – misty mornings and pale sunlight. you knew, however, that this majesty was only a surface quality. what the visitor often overlooked were the frozen animal husks, the dry tundras, the abandoned hamlets. the snow was not white, not for you or any other illyrian. it was discoloured, the purity corrupted with mud, blood, piss. there was no peace here; the winds sang no lullabies.

the cacophony of the village rivalled that of the thunderstorm in the distance – the blacksmith was busy hammering away at some forged steel, a brawl was brewing, and cassian’s students were training.

you grunted as your sparring partner pushed you to the ground, limbs too weak to defend. her wings flared wide as she straddled your torso, frustration evident in her furrowed brow as her hands encircled your neck.

you clutched at them, barely keeping away the choking grip. every muscle was on fire, vision hazy with dizziness. training had only just reached its midpoint, but already a headache was pounding against your skull, making you slower, making you weaker. from the very beginning it had been a poor match; today you just couldn’t hold your ground. your blocks weren’t strong, your counters slow.

as you lay there, trapped, snow soaking through to chill your bones, you bit back tears - it shouldn’t be like this. you were older than the other students, had better control and movement. but your meat stocks had spoiled prematurely, the wind had battered the hinge of your cabin door, and screams in the night had you sleeping with one eye open.

but it wasn’t only this week. things had only gotten worse for you for some time, and cassian’s training had been the only reprieve. the opportunity to do something purely for yourself was liberating, and there was safety in the feeling of getting stronger. cauldron - you were even good at it; a rare thing. there was this, but also cassian. focused and particular - this was how he held himself during training, upholding that hard earned title of general of night’s armies. but sometimes he revealed a different side of himself, one that was funny, kind, and so very genuine. for the first time in your life you wanted to impress a male, and pushed yourself every session to do so.

but now, as you did everything wrong, you felt so useless. how could you ever believe you could be strong, if you couldn’t even feed yourself? you reached out, pawing blindly at your partner.

“elbows by your ribs,” cassian was saying, voice nearing as he knelt closeby. you tried, oh how you tried, but your mind had become so muddled with exertion that you couldn’t comprehend the meaning.

and finally her hands grabbed your throat, thumbs pressing down and soon you were choking, the little breath you had snatched so swiftly—

stop – the word was on your tongue, but all that came out was a wheeze. you clawed at her shoulder, the other clutching her wrist – but sweat made it slip, and then she was clenching her jaw, and then everything was burning—

“enough. enough! she’s trying to tap out—”

the weight lifted and the looming shadow vanished, but still you felt you were drowning. hoarse coughs wracked your body, and soon cassian hauled you up. “hey, look at me. are you alright?”

you squeezed your eyes shut. his big hands rested on your shoulders, and you used that to try to ground yourself, to focus on anything besides your seizing lungs or roiling stomach. cassian said your name once again, soft and intimate, like those few times where he could find you outside training sessions. you shook your head, giving him a weak shove before vomiting onto the ground. you spluttered, a bitter taste left in your mouth.

“for cauldron’s sake,” one of the students muttered, her sentiments echoed by others. you squinted up at the onlookers that had assembled, looks of scorn on their faces. honestly, you could understand why, and didn’t even care when tears escaped.

cassian sighed, grumbling a reply under his breath. you looked away, thinking he was annoyed, perhaps even embarrassed, but his touch was gentle as he reached for you again.

“can you stand?”

you swallowed, finally looking at him. you should’ve been intimidated, knowing that the night court’s general was seeing you so exposed; it always was hard to separate him from his role. but now, with his hazel eyes in such clear contrast to the monochromatics of the steppes, you reminded yourself that he had indeed become a friend.

lingering nausea turned your stomach once more, making you wince. cassian took it as answer, and gathered you up in his arms. “i’m taking you to the healers.”

curled up, you focused your gaze on nothing in particular as he carried you across the camp, trying not to think of what onlookers would think. this only reinforced the helplessness, the frailty that you so foolishly tried to overcome. cassian’s leathers were rough and cold against your skin, but his scent was comforting.

he set you down on a damp bedroll, hand briefly cupping your cheek. your heart pulsed violently; so unfamiliar you were with such gentle touches. “i’ll be back for you, alright?”

cassian then nodded to the healer just beyond, leaving you rather reluctantly.

the healer - an old woman, wings deformed by force - readied some herbs in the dark corner of this meagre tent. you looked around, barely keeping in the scoff. no viable blankets, no food… there wasn’t anything here that would help.

+++

cassian found you again later, when everything was graying. you hadn’t been at the healer’s tent when he finished the girls’ training session; she had told him that you left before she could even administer anything. he’d had some trouble, but eventually one of the girls pointed out the derelict shack.

you were sitting in a wooden tub - a glorified basket, really - listless in the cold water. cassian gritted his teeth, hesitating in the doorway. his relationship with you was undefined; you two saw each other only for a few hours a week at a time, and much of it was only in an official capacity. you were a quick and keen student, starting out strong. at first it had been an acknowledgement of your potential, then the liking of your smile, and eventually he found excuses to talk to you outside training. you were unyielding to the challenges of the steppes, and he admired that. being a good judge of character, cassian also found it so very easy to read you - something that had perhaps saved your life today. he knew you were interested in him, but kept yourself at a distance.

sometimes he wished you didn’t, and right now was one of those times.

he looked around at the splintered walls, the ragged bedding. he was familiar with illyrian poverty, but hadn’t experienced it so intimately for some time. you hid it well before - perhaps it was the clothing. but here in the twilight, your form looked so weak.

he quietly called your name, but you didn’t move. steeling himself, he made his way to you and crouched next to the tub. your knees were clutched to your chest.

“i’m sorry,” you croaked.

“what happened today can happen to anyone,” he said, choosing his words carefully. he didn’t blame you for a thing - didn’t think any less of you because of today’s overexhertion - but illyrian pride was a thing he had to keep in mind. you finally looked over, and your forlorn expression clutched at cassian’s heart.

“i was pathetic. the other girls are better - some of them can even fly! with my wings… what’s the point?”

he couldn’t help but glance at your curved wings, bent to fit inside. they were marked with scars and pockmarks, cruel memories of illyrian practices. he shook his head, swallowing the anger. “don’t say that. you worked hard today, as you always do.”

he sighed, thinking back on today’s overexertion and the way you had been steadily disengaging over the last few weeks. at first he thought it was an enhanced effort and trying to ignore your feelings, but he shouldn’t have been so arrogant.

“what’s going on, sweetheart?”

and your face crumpled, tears quickly welling and rolling. you shook your head, covering your face with your hands before your shoulders shook with a sob. cassian shifted involuntarily, a knee-jerk reaction.

“those… those gifts you gave me? i’ve had to sell them… trade them away… i’m so sorry, cassian. i don’t even have anything to show for it now. i— i—”

“hey.” he reached over, cupping your face, but you couldn’t stop.

“if i can’t join the legions, what am i going to do? i don’t have anything, cassian,” you implored, trying to make him understand. you didn’t need to, because cassian already knew what that felt like. “no skills, no prospects… i don’t—i don’t want to sell myself—”

he gripped you tighter, forcing you to look into his eyes. “hey, hey! just breathe, alright?” you were really crying now, sobs heavy as you gripped his arms. there was desperation there, a kind of hopelessness that he immediately wanted to change for you. the breathy sobs continued, and he quickly found a towel. “come here,” he said, helping you out of the tub and into his arms, your wet hair cold against his neck. he hugged you close, pressing what he hoped to be a reassuring kiss to your head.

when he felt your palm press over his heart, he intertwined his fingers with yours, calluses as rough as his. your hitching breaths evened out as cassian held you. he was hesitant to disturb the tentative calm, but he had to know. “how long has it been like this?” he asked, gently lifting your chin. thumb caressing your jaw, he regretted that this intimacy - both physical and emotional - had taken your humiliation to come to pass.

the reply was a mere shake of your head, full of shame and regret. your gaze lowered, but cassian pressed his forehead against yours, trying to comfort you in a way when words simply couldn’t. but he tried anyway. “i’m going to help you, alright, sweetheart? i promise. i’m sorry.” he tasted salt on his lips, and gathered you closer. “we’re going to be alright.”

he wasn’t quite sure how yet, but he was going to deliver on his promise. he cared for you, whether you believed it to be foolish or not, and cassian would endeavour to show it from now on.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #19- Ambulon and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

We got a major reveal at the end of last issue, and now it’s time to put the rest of the pieces together so we can finally understand the mystery that is the Ultra Magnus situation.

So back when Magnus’ seemingly lifeless body stole a shuttle, fucked off into space and landed on the moon, Tyrest was there to greet him.

And by “greet him”, I mean punch through the windshield and carry him bridal style, as if he weighed no more than a baby bird, into his moon base.

Pharma did his thing with his crazy new hands, Magnus was saved, and he woke up shortly after his lifesaving operation. Then Tyrest punched Magnus in the face, because fuck the healing process. He’s an engineer, not a doctor, he doesn’t deal with the SOUL and FEELINGS or anything like that.

In the here and now, Rodimus is still trying to comprehend the fact that his SIC isn’t dead, and is also actually another, much smaller guy with a mustache. Minimus Ambus attempts to explain just what the hell is going on, and we get back to our flashback.

After some good old-fashioned face violence, Tyrest showed Magnus around the place, specifically the terminal he’d set up for his on-the-fly, real-time law amending. With how many war crimes the Cybertronian race has committed in the last several million years, I’m sure it was needed.

Dang, wonder who pissed off Big Brother.

Magnus is more concerned about how it is exactly he isn’t dead right now, and also why his boss looks like a swiss cheese party platter.

Turns out that Tyrest isn’t actually mad at Magnus, just disappointed. He went and read his diary while the operation was happening, and in the 18 months that the Knight Quest has been running, Tyrest has deemed the work done to be unsatisfactory. Instead of arresting criminals, Magnus had been handling infractions so minor, most people wouldn’t have even noticed them. Tyrest doesn’t know where he went wrong.

Well, Tyrest, it was probably the anxiety that manifested itself as OCD, because you picked someone without factoring what the end of the war might do to them. Magnus needs structure to flourish, and if he cannot find it, he will make it himself. I mean, look at all this:

No wonder he was struggling on the chaos engine that is the Lost Light.

Still, Tyrest wants nothing to do with someone who’s cracked under the pressure (lack of pressure?) and the deal was that Magnus only got to be Magnus if he did what Tyrest wanted. Tyrest divests him with the literal push of a button.

Good grief, he’s naked!

As Minimus Ambus mourns over the loss of his stature, both literal and position-wise, we get back to the present, in a double-page spread no less, as Minimus tells everyone about the storied history of the Magnus Armor. Ultra Magnus was originally an actual person, but then he died, and Tyrest was kind of bummed out about that, so he decided to make up a lie (lying, while perhaps morally dubious is not illegal, so he’s allowed to do that) that Magnus faked his death, and then built the armor. There were at least a few wearers of the armor prior to Minimus, some of who were even known by the other crew members. Whenever someone got offed, their hand would spasm and press a recall button in their palm, which would bring the Magnus Armor, and the dead body inside, back to Tyrest.

You can tell he’s still real shaken up about losing the Magnus Armor, because he’s truncating his words. Poor guy.

Minimus asks what exactly happened after he got stabbed, seeing as he was too busy dying to really pay attention to the Overlord plot. Rodimus tells him it’s been handled. Brainstorm jumps in, wanting to know about the other things on Minimus’ resume, which leads into Minimus revealing the fact that he is a Point One Percenter, and something known as a Load Bearer. Load Bearers circumvent that niggling little issue that we saw presented in the “Shadowplay” arc, where spark strain due to not being able to handle a different frame type would outright kill you. Minimus doesn’t have that problem.

Tailgate wants to know how exactly it is that Minimus isn’t dead, seeing as he was clearly on his way out prior to his grand theft auto. Tailgate may have a personal interest in that sort of information, what with still being terminal and all.

Everyone’s real handsy this issue.

Minimus lets Tailgate know that Tyrest’s medical equipment is off the hook, and we get a reminder that Tailgate’s got basically a day left to live. Harsh, Roberts.

Back in Minimus’ flashback, Tyrest sort-of apologizes for punching him in the face, and laments on the loss of one of his greatest Enforcers of the Tyrest Accord.

Oh, so you DID know that this was a possibility, and instead of ordering your subordinate to go make that follow-up appointment with the only therapist on Cybertron- which, while being borderline sectioning, would have at least kept Minimus from sending emails to Rodimus about how he was spiraling- you just let it happen. The Vector Sigma pulse wave went all over the galaxy, there’s zero possibility you didn’t hear about the end of the war before Magnus loaded up on the Lost Light and didn’t call for a year and a half.

Anyway, so Tyrest’s got a new Enforcer lined up, seeing as he’s going to retire the Magnus Armor after all the shenanigans Minimus got dragged through while wearing it. Let’s see what we’re working with.

I thought we were supposed to have separation of church and state, what the hell?

In the present, Rodimus has questions, mainly about why there are so many people in this prison cell. Minimus admits that he asked to be put in here, to try and prove Rodimus and friends’ innocence on the charge of harboring a criminal, by recording their conversation and proving that they had no idea what SKIDS deal was.

Yep, Skids did a bad, and Tyrest wants him in jail.

Minimus also drops the bomb that everyone else in this cell is going to get he death penalty for that whole “crimes against creation” thing. I mean, all Tyrest has to do is wait for a little while and Tailgate will be dealt with, no sweat.

Minimus pulls a device out of his hip compartment, uses it to disrupt the electro-bars of the cell (it’s cool, he was an undercover cop for this whole thing and can therefore break out of prison without it being a crime), and goes to have a chat with his boss about all the weird new stuff he’s shoved into the Autobot Code in the last year and a half. Rodimus doesn’t really want him to leave, but there’s no time for that, because the cell just got a little more full.

Uh oh, Swerve’s badge has gone missing again. Rung, why don’t you slap yours on his crotch, that way Minimus won’t try to murder him when he gets back?

While this is happening, Whirl and Cyclonus are standing on the rim of a smelting pool, absolutely not having a dick measuring contest.

Luna 1 said Bi Rights.

There’s a structure built over the pool that looks an awful lot like living quarters, but is probably actually a prison that violates the Geneva convention. Whirl suggests they find some weapons and go hog-wild, but Cyclonus is more concerned about finding something. When Whirl asks what in the hell he could possibly be looking for in this sort of crisis, Cyclonus turns into a moody teenager.

Well, at least he’s respecting Tailgate’s wish to keep his looming demise under wraps. Not that Cyclonus tells anyone anything anyway.

Over in the Luna 1 medibay, Ratchet is being subjected to having his very fucking soul threatened with a paring knife. Pharma’s having what probably an inappropriate amount of fun, especially since he’s realized that Ratchet took his goddamn hands after the shitshow that was Delphi.

It turns out that every single piece of tech that Ultra Magnus ever repossessed is floating around on Luna 1, even the stuff that really ought to have been destroyed. This is why they were able to save Magnus from certain death at the start of the issue. Somehow I’m not surprised that Tyrest kept all those toys for himself. Corruption of an authority figure? In my Cybertronian Justice System? It’s more likely than you think.

Some of the little art quirks in MTMTE are added in by Milne- see Brainstorm holding any handgun ever if you’d like an example- but I know for a FACT that Pharma humping Ratchet’s headless body was specified by Roberts.

Ratchet, unimpressed and likely mildly queasy by the display going on before him, proposes that Pharma’s afraid of failure, which is why he hasn’t taken his hands back. Pharma disagrees, and a wager is set to see who the better doctor is- winner gets to keep the hands.

Over with the fly boys, alarms are going off in a deserted building, as Whirl struggles to open a door with his claws. Cyclonus takes over on door duty, and asks why Whirl hasn’t gotten his shit fixed yet.

Whirl’s worried that if he gets help for his trauma, he’s going to lose a huge part of himself as a person, and then where will he be? Of course, he says it in a much more Whirly fashion, full of vitriolic self-blame, but reading between the lines is fun. Whirl fires the “let’s get into each other’s personal issues even though both of us hate talking about ourselves and also each other” missile right back at Cyclonus. He wants to know about Cyclonus’ facial situation.

Cyclonus doesn’t like this question.

Then he gets stabbed with a sword.

Back with the docs, it’s apparently much later, as Ratchet’s just woken up from surgery and has a body again. He gets up from the operating table and finds that Pharma’s gone ahead with setting up their gentleman’s wager.

First Aid seems less than pleased with the current situation. Ambulon’s arms are long as hell in this panel, and he doesn’t seem entirely present in the moment. Maybe he’s practicing Rungian Re-Experience Therapy.

Pharma wants to cut both of the boys in half to see who can put the pieces together back the fastest. Ratchet tries to deescalate the situation, because he’s usually pretty good at it, but Pharma’s set on using his chainsaw attachment on someone today.

Ratchet attempts to console his coworkers, saying that their Springer-on-Pova treatment be over soon, and they’ll get a nice lollipop at the end for being such brave little robots.

Then Pharma cuts Ambulon in half, in a way that Ratchet hadn’t accounted for.

We’re gonna need a little more than some bandaids and a kiss to make it feel better for this one. It’s amazing what censorship laws will let you get away with when the blood isn’t red.

Speaking of blood, Cyclonus is more or less okay with being stabbed, because Whirl did him a solid and chopped his assailant in half- lengthways- with a super sweet sword he found in the armory they just opened up. Cyclonus pulls the blade out of his midriff and we finally find out what happened to the Circle of Light.

Back in the prison cell, Perceptor’s been given the job of doctor, even though Rung, Swerve, and Chromedome are all here and at least somewhat closer to being general practice doctors than our science sniper.

Seems like Swerve filled everyone in on the situation on the Lost Light off-panel, which is good, because they’ve been in the dark up to this point.

Chromedome hypothesizes that the reason Skids is a wanted man has to do with that mysterious gun he was holding when he fell out of the sky all the way back in issue #2. This is the point where Skids wakes up from his stabbing and admits that this is probably what happened, even though he still has no recollection of ever stealing the gun or even it existing up until he entered the story, but he apologizes for the trouble anyway.

Shh.  Someone’s coming down the corridor. It’s Star Saber, and he’s brought yet another prisoner to stuff in this cell.

And there’s something else. Can you hear it?

Is… is that music?

Are those the beginning synth riffs of “Tainted Love" by Soft Cell?

Over with Minimus, we’re treated to a taste of Tyrest’s personal brand of disinterest, then get a quick run-down of the birds and the bees. The forging process is a little more convoluted than originally implied, needing Primus to send out a pulse wave through Vector Sigma in order for the Hot Spots to be ignited.

Then the pulse waves started to slow down, Nova Prime had a little freak out, and cold construction was invented to prevent the Cybertronian race from becoming an endangered species.

Minimus of course knows all of this, because he, like basically half of the cast of MTMTE, is old as shit. What he DOESN’T know is that cold construction isn’t managed the way that anyone thought that it was, because there was a government coverup going on about the whole thing. You don’t splice sparks to make a new one, you use the Matrix to create new life.

I know, it’s crazy.

Tyrest was on the team that fiddled around with the Matrix until it started spitting out robot zygotes, and he’s now convinced that they bled the Matrix dry. Nobody tell him what happened to the thing after the war ended.

Wait. If the pulse waves have stopped, and the Matrix is busted beyond repair, doesn’t that mean they can’t make any more Transformers? Once they finish up on their stockpile of sparks, that’s it. No more. The Transformers are a protected species now, we’ve got to treat them like giant pandas.

One of his team members stole the Matrix and hid it in the black market, so its strange, mystical baby powers could never be used again. Except someone obviously found it later on, because we have half of it on the Lost Light. Minimus isn’t sure why any of this is actually relevant to the current situation, or why Tyrest feels guilty about pulling a Eugenesis Fulcrum and finding out where babies come from.

Tyrest is convinced that by draining the Matrix, his team somehow corrupted it, and all the sparks made by this corrupted Matrix are straying further and further from Primus. This is why Rodimus and friends have been charged with crimes against creation- some of their party were created in a way that predisposes them to crime. Or so Tyrest thinks.

I thought we were supposed to have separation of church and state, what the hell? This is still the same guy who was appointed as Chief Justice by the space pope because of his levelheadedness, right?

Yes, actually, but this sudden flip in priorities and personality has been induced by the guilt he felt during the Aequitas trials. Tyrest turned to self harm to deal with the weight of it all, and one day tried to go for what in most species would have been a suicide, by drilling with his drill fingers into the spot between his eyes. Instead, he most likely gave himself a lobotomy and became a religious zealot, fully believing that the gods are real, and he can go visit them by using his super-cool space portal.

Outside the moon base, Whirl and Cyclonus have freed the Circle of Light, and everyone’s ready to kick some ass. Both the fly boys have found themselves a Great Sword to play with, further cementing Cyclonus as our replacement Drift. Rodimus will be so thrilled.

Dai Atlas, the leader of the Circle of Light, tells our boys that there used to be a lot more of his group, but a lot of folks ended up being used to build Legislators.

Hm. I’m sure that’ll never be brought up again, and won’t paint future events in a much darker light. Nope. Absolutely not.

Cyclonus thinks that they need to get a move on, because if that sort of horrific shit can happen to the Circle of Light, it can also happen to Tailgate and the others. He does specifically name Tailgate in his dialogue, but it’s not like he actually cares about the guy, right? Feelings are for nerds.

Then the Legislators show up and it’s party time.

Wonder how that’s going to work out for you, Whirl.

Back with Tyrest, it’s revealed that Tyrest’s plan has a small snag- only people completely absolved of their guilt can go to Cyberutopia to hang out with Primus and the gang, and Tyrest is feeling awful guilty. Not about his weird space-eugenics thing, but about inventing cold construction. Now, how in the world is he going to handle this?

By committing a genocide.

Minimus is, understandably, not a fan of this plan. Tyrest had anticipated that the Universal Killswitch wouldn’t be universally appreciated, and has some of the new law come into play.

And that’s a series wrap on Minimus Ambus! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

[obligatorynasty]

I’ll Be the Fight to Your Flight, Baby. (Part 2)

Part 1: Here | Sequel: Here  

Read on: AO3 | WC: 18k | Please excuse any typos. 

Main Tags: BadBoy!Tony, SoftBoy!Peter, Highschool AU, NFF, TW:Mentions of Blood, TW:Mentions of Abuse, TW:Bullying, TW:Underage Drinking and Smoking, TW:Mild Homophobia, [see all tags on AO3]

-

~*1*~

Peter didn’t know how to feel.

When Tony threw the cafeteria doors open, the chatter of the room went silent. Though the whispers remained; all gossip about why the school’s most fearsome student was resting his arm around the most fearful student’s shoulders. It was strange for Peter to be the center of attention for something other than ridicule. Along with the shocked expression on Ned’s face, cliques of curious eyes glanced back and forth between the slew of tables. All looks filled with confusion and intrigue and – for a certain pair of brotherly bullies – absolute terror.

All the younger boy had to do was point. And he did, with a shaky finger and wary eyes, directing his unhinged – boyfriend? – to not only the guilty brothers’ table, but to Clint, Natasha, Bucky, and Sam’s as well.

“Is that all of them, baby?” Tony whispered, his face close enough that Peter could feel his warm breath tickling his surely flushed ear. The sensation sent chills down Peter’s spine – but in a good way – like the airy feeling he got in his stomach when Ned and MJ dragged him on roller coasters with giant drops.

Peter gave a demure nod, “Y-Yes.”

Tony’s wild eyes were breathtaking, especially paired with that mischievous grin and the way he cracked his knuckles like warning signs to his prey. Or the way he pulled off that signature jacket and draped it over Peter’s shoulders like he was staking his claim. Or the way he so nonchalantly quipped about not wanting to ruin the leather with some degenerate’s blood, so hold this for me, baby. I’ll be right back.

And Peter could do nothing but stand there – engulfed in the leather that smelled of cigarettes and pure, unfiltered Tony Stark – watching as the notorious bad boy reminded each and every student in the cafeteria of just how fearsome he could really be.

***

Tony’s rampage began with one stunned Clint Barton, ripped from his seat by a forceful grip on his collar. The irony of being thrown against the very spot he tripped Peter lost on him. Likely due to the wind being knocked out of his lungs as he careened towards the off-white linoleum tiles with a hefty thud and, subsequently, a symphony of startled gasps and excited chants of Fight! Fight! Fight!

Now, Clint wasn’t someone who would take a beating lying down. Peter had seen him fight before; win against people bigger than him and intimidate people smaller. So, when Tony dropped down and managed to get in three punches so quick and so forceful that Clint couldn’t react, Peter’s jaw dropped. Tony’s promise of not making it too bloody consumed by sight of Clint’s very bloody nose.

“What the fuck, Stark?!” It was Natasha – poor Natasha – trying to stand up for her partner in crime, not knowing she would be next on the rampage list. The second she stood from her seat, Tony released his hold on Clint’s collar, leaving it stretched out of place and watching Clint pitifully grasp his nose in pain. Then, Tony stood, facing Natasha head-on and flashing his smug, bad boy grin.

“What the fuck, Romanoff?” His words were laced with belittling humor and a wild brand of confidence that Peter couldn’t fathom.

“Don’t do that.” Natasha glared, her brows furrowing at Tony’s complete lack of fear towards her. “What the fuck did he do to piss you off?”

“He didn’t piss me off. Not directly at least.” Tony’s laughter was unnerving, “You see, your boy here managed to piss him off,” He pointedly said, as he gestured over to Peter, who was still standing by the doors with a bewildered look on his face. “And he belongs to me now. So, let’s say when he’s pissed, I’m just pissed by proxy.”

“You’re a fucking psychopath.” Natasha’s words were sharp, but Tony was sharper.

“Let’s ask then,” Tony leaned forward against the table, his palms down and his knuckles up like he was brandishing a bloodied sword, staring at Sam and Bucky with his intimidating glare. “Why don’t you two tell me, hm? Did Barton do something to Parker?” His question was brimming with venom, and thus, met with zero hesitation.

“Yes, he tripped him.” Sam stood, pulling Bucky to his feet as well and expressing so much fuck-this-shit-I’m-out energy that Peter had to stifle a laugh. “Me and Bucky are really sorry for our involvement in all of this, and we would very much like to keep all of our bones intact. Thank you.” Sam looked to Natasha, “Nat, you are on your own with this one.” With that, he was fleeing, towing Bucky behind him as they made their way out the cafeteria, muttering something along the lines of: People really out here fucking around with Tony Stark like he didn’t send just someone to the ER last year. What a bunch of idiots.

“Fucking cowards.” Natasha spat, rolling her eyes and giving an angry sigh when Tony smirked at her. “Fine!” She exclaimed, turning to Peter with forced sincerity. “Sorry,” She said flatly, and with a peeved grimace, before turning back to Tony with an expression that showed just how thoroughly done she was with the whole situation. “Happy now?”

But Tony didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned to Peter and smiled as he repeated Natasha’s sentiment. “Happy?”

Peter froze for a moment, his frazzled mind whirring into overdrive, trying to comprehend the weight of Tony’s question. It was like a wild animal asking the leader of its pack for permission to hunt. Like Peter’s answer was the only thing standing between Natasha and the full power of Tony’s wrath. So Peter nodded and mouthed a nervous, “Yes.”

“Wow, how lucky for you,” Tony said, giving Natasha a look so dark that it sent chills down Peter’s spine in the bad kind of way. “Don’t waste it, Red.”

Tony’s threat lingered in the way he carelessly stepped on Clint’s struggling frame as he made a beeline to his last targets: Thor and Loki.

“Don’t bring your violence over here, Stark.” Thor weakly warned, flinching up from his seat like a cornered animal, posturing in a final attempt to scare off its predator. His reaction was perplexing, especially since he was bigger than Tony. He seemed to have more muscles, more stature, more height, yet he still looked frightened. So, even though Peter’s natural response was worry, Thor’s fear and Tony’s unfazed smirk eased his concerns.

“I’ll bring my violence wherever I damn well please, Point Break.” Tony taunted, wasting no time in shoving both Thor and Loki’s lunch trays off the table, gaining him a resoundingly loud and drawn out Daammn! from the surrounding crowd of students.

Loki stood up next, posturing just like his brother, “You think we’re scared of you, Stark?”

“Oh, you will be.”

With that, Tony’s rampage continued. But this time, it was less controlled threats and more all-out brawl that summoned a flock of rowdy students, eager to watch the carnage.

Before the crowd grew, Peter managed to see Tony land two satisfying jabs to Loki’s face that left Thor scrambling to retaliate. It was all too surreal; the savage look in Tony’s eyes, the speed of his punches, the way he bobbed and weaved around his opponents’ hits like a trained boxer. All the people egging on the fight like spectators at the Colosseum; encircling them like Thor and Loki were the poor fools thrown into the lion’s den and Tony was head of the pride.

Soon, the fight was impossible to see. The students were so enthralled that they stood on tables to witness it. And Peter knew from the screaming and the general disregard for school policy that it would probably go down as one of those legendary Tony Stark fights. Peter’s body buzzed with curiosity. He wanted to watch too, but he found himself unable to move.

Remember, Peter didn’t know how to feel. His eyes traveled to Clint, struggling as Natasha helped him to his feet and clutching the spot on his abdomen that Tony used as a stepping stone. It was brutal, and Peter knew that. He knew he shouldn’t feel glad that Clint was hurt. He shouldn’t get excited about Sam and Bucky scurrying away like frightened mice. He shouldn’t enjoy the scared look in Thor and Loki’s eyes. He shouldn’t – he knew that – but he did.

Because Tony Stark was fighting for him, and that sort of thing just goes to a person’s head.

Peter was pulled from his thoughts by Ned, who was pushing through the crowd to reach his friend. “Dude! We need to go! Someone said Principal Fury was called.” He didn’t stop. He just grabbed Peter’s arm and dragged him through the cafeteria’s double doors.

The hallway was also beginning to swarm with students – kids leaving their classes in droves, trying to witness the fight for themselves. “Okay, so since when are you and Tony Stark friends?”

“Since like a half-hour ago?” Peter shyly admitted as Ned stopped with him in the hall, standing to the side so they didn’t get trampled by the rush of students.

“What?!” Ned practically screamed. “He’s beating the shit out of Loki and Thor right now.” He stressed, “For you, dude! For you! And you’ve only been friends for a half-hour?!”

“Actually, ‘friends’ might not be right either.” Peter nervously laughed, scratching the back of his head and giving Ned a guilty look.

“Dude, what happened?” Ned’s eyes went wide. “And please don’t say you sucked his dick for protection.”

“Whose dick are we sucking for protection?” It was MJ, exiting the flow of students, throwing her arms over Peter and Ned’s shoulders, interjecting on their conversation with her classic witty smirk.

“Tony Stark’s,” Ned laughed.

MJ joined the laughter, “Is that why Peter’s wearing this?” She tugged on the leather jacket still draped over Peter’s shoulders. “Did you swallow?”

“Oh my god! MJ! I-I didn’t s-suck his dick!” Peter’s face flushed red in his embarrassment. “I just- I mean, I guess…um- I belong to him now.” His voice cracked because that felt weird to say. He belonged to Tony Stark – someone that he barely knew – yet, instead of his usual urge to flee, his body craved to stay.

“I see,” Ned nodded. “First, the brutish show of strength, then-”

“The dick sucking.” MJ joked.

Peter crossed his arms, “No! I- He just- He made me cry – well, not directly – but then he patted my hair and k-kissed my forehead and, suddenly, I was just his, okay?”

“I think it’s romantic,” Ned nodded.

“I think it’s problematic,” MJ deadpanned.

Peter just shrugged, inching away from MJ’s hold. “W-Well, I think it’s my decision.”

“I’m just looking out for you, Pete.” MJ became defensive. “We can joke about sucking dick, but Tony Stark is fucking dangerous. We all know it. May I remind you that he broke that Hammer kid’s bones last year, he constantly skips classes, and he smokes.” She punctuated each point with a count of her fingers and ended her rant with a firm, “Say it with me: pro-ble-ma-tic be-hav-iors.”

“Okay, scratch the romantic thing,” Ned shook his head and stepped closer to MJ, physically signaling his position on the matter. “MJ has a point, dude. I’m on her side.”

“There are no sides!” Peter furrowed his brow and let out a frustrated huff. “You guys just didn’t see what I saw in him.”

“Dude, do you even hear yourself?” MJ rolled her eyes, “We’re talking about Tony – probably stabbed a guy – Stark. What could you have possibly seen in him besides gratuitous violence and penchant for starting shit?”

“I saw how kind he really is!” Peter exclaimed, furiously shaking his head, dismissing MJ’s level-headed red flags. Sure, Tony was violent, but somehow, Peter knew he must have a good reason for it. “I saw it, MJ. How caring he is. How he isn’t this fearsome bad boy everyone makes him out to be.”

And Peter’s sentiment was sweet – naive, but sweet – but, unfortunately for him, it was immediately undermined by one student’s passing words: Did you hear? Stark broke Loki’s arm.

“Hey!” MJ called out to the student. “Is that true?”

“Yeah, there’s a video and everything.”

~*2*~

After the chaos died down and students were herded back into their classrooms, Peter was sent to the Principal’s office. He didn’t know why – well, that’s not true, he had a guess – but he didn’t want to overthink it. Everyone was already looking at him funny. Whispering fables under their breath: That’s the kid that Stark broke Loki’s arm for. Wonder what he had to do to put Stark on a leash. Bet a little slut boy like him would put out for anyone. Shush! He belongs to Stark now. Don’t talk to him. Don’t let him hear you. He’ll sick Stark on you. Rumors were spreading. Fast. Painfully fast.

And the jacket wasn’t helping either. For a fleeting moment, the leather was comforting, but now, it just felt heavy. Yet, even as he ripped it off his shoulders, he couldn’t bring himself to leave it behind in the classroom. It was Tony’s after all. So, as Peter traveled down the hallway, he held the leather close to his chest.

The administrative office door was propped open, and the scene inside was shocking, to say the least. Sitting in a row of chairs, outside the Principal’s door, were a handful of Peter’s bullies; an annoyed Natasha, a bruised Clint, a bloodied Thor, and Loki, whose arm was tucked against his chest in a sling. Describing them as ‘pissed’ wouldn’t do their collective expressions justice, and – holy shit – did Peter want to run. But he couldn’t. So he stood by the door, clutching Tony’s jacket like a safety blanket. Awkwardly, and beneath the unsettling glares of his bullies.

As the minutes ticked by, Peter’s anxiety ran high. Principal Fury’s assistant was busy phoning a list of names – seemingly all parents arranging for their child’s pick-up. Peter wondered if he was on that list too? Did someone name him as the cause of the fight? Did Aunt May already know? God, he wanted to leave.

Then, Principal Fury’s door swung open and Tony stepped out beaming, despite the bruises on his cheek or the blood drying on his knuckles or the rip in his t-shirt. “Fury wants you next, Red,” Tony flashed the same unnerving smile as before. And, even though Natasha rolled her eyes, she still nodded to him before disappearing into the office.

Tony turned his attention to Peter next, “Hey, baby.”

Peter blushed at Tony’s nonchalant use of the pet name. He wasn’t used to it yet. In fact, he wasn’t used to Tony yet. In terms of confidence, Peter and Tony were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Tony knew what he wanted and expressed it, powerfully and without pause. Peter couldn’t even handle the pressure of wearing a jacket.

“Come out here for a sec,” Tony threw his arm around Peter’s shoulders and, despite Peter’s resistance or the protests of Fury’s assistant, he managed to lead him out of the office.

“T-Tony! Wait! S-She was upset. I should go back in.”

“She’ll get over it.” Tony shrugged and held out his hand expectantly.

“Um, right! Here you go.” Peter mumbled, glancing over the older boy’s battered hand before giving him the signature leather. “A-Are you okay? Your hands are-”

“I’m fine.” In one motion, Tony threw on the jacket. “I’m about to leave. Come with me.”

“I-I…um, but s-school isn’t- I was called-” Peter stammered, staring at Tony’s shoulders and the way they seemed broader in the leather. The jacket somehow perfected his strangely attractive – disheveled and slightly bloody – aesthetic, and Peter couldn’t look away.

“You were called? Oh – shit – I thought you were in there for something else.” Tony sighed, “Fury’s probably going to send you home too. I’m sorry.” Another rare Tony Stark apology.

“I-Is it because of the rumors?” Peter whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Rumors?” Tony’s brow raised as he placed a finger on Peter’s chin and tilted it upward to lock gazes. “What rumors?”

Peter gasped at the contact. Tony’s hand felt so warm – or maybe it was the heat flushing Peter’s face – he didn’t know, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he just let Tony touch him; let him idly drag his fingers across the length of Peter’s jaw; let him caress the underside of Peter’s chin; let him ghost his palm around the contours of Peter’s throat; anything. And judging by the satisfied grin that appeared on the older boy’s face, he was pleased with the pliant behavior.

“Don’t get distracted, baby,” Tony smirked, bringing his hand upwards to cup the side of Peter’s tinted face. “What rumors?”

Peter squeaked – yes, fucking squeaked – and who wouldn’t? Tony Stark was touching him and talking to him in that suggestive tone. And Peter didn’t think that simple touches like those could feel so good. Yet, here he was: feeling good. He took a shallow breath and answered, “P-People are saying that you- um… broke Loki’s arm for me.”

“What?” Tony’s grin fell, and so did his grip on Peter’s chin. “I did not break that bitch’s arm. He’d be in the fucking hospital by now if I did that shit.” Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I just dislocated it a little, then I put it back – sometimes I don’t even do that – but trust me, if I wanted it broken, it would be broken.” Then, he paused, his eyes gleaming with a chilling excitement and the corner of his lips mischievously turning upward. “Why?” He whispered, “You want me to break it?”

Peter didn’t know how to feel. The calm way Tony said that should have alarmed him, but instead, the younger boy found himself mirroring the older’s excitement. His mind wandering through the possibilities of playing gatekeeper for Tony Stark’s ferocity. His body buzzing from its inherent power because Peter was fucking tired of being bullied in the high school cesspool. So, of course, the thought of enacting that vicious power gave him a heady kind of rush, but still, it was scary.

So Peter resisted it, shaking his head, “No, I-I don’t think that would be okay.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Tony shrugged and shoved his hands into pockets. “But my offer stands.”

Peter gave a small nod and a hesitant, “T-Thanks.”

“Anything for you.”

Peter blushed at Tony’s casual and blind devotion. He couldn’t understand it. How this boy whom he never spoke a word to could risk himself so readily, especially if it landed him in Fury’s office.

“Wait, so if Principal Fury isn’t sending me home for the rumors, t-then why-?”

Tony let out a spiteful tsk, “Fury’s got this zero-tolerance policy for fighting. Everyone involved is going home on a day’s suspension except for you Stark. You get a week.” He dryly mocked Principal Fury’s voice.

“A week?!” Peter repeated with a gasp. “That’s terrible.”

Peter was right. It was terrible. Who would protect him from the scourge of retaliation? Sure, his bullies seemed to fall in line now – with Tony’s threatening presence ever-looming – but what happens when he leaves? Peter didn’t want to think about it.

“Y-You can’t leave for a week.” Peter’s eyes burned a little, the fear of being without Tony’s protection slowly seeping out of him and thoughts of taking Tony’s offer seeping in.

“It’s whatever. Even if I was here, I’d skip the classes.” Tony smiled, gently bumping his hand against Peter’s arm. “So, come with me. I promised to eat lunch with you after I cleaned up the trash in there.”

Peter dropped his gaze again, twiddling his thumbs as his nerves bubbled over. “I c-can’t. I w-was called and I don’t- I can’t-”

“Fine, fine, don’t make that face.” Tony brought his hand against Peter’s head, softly carding his fingers through the curls in that same soothing motion as before. “Here,” He pulled his phone from his back pocket and handed it to Peter. “Give me your number. If you get sent home, text me and I’ll come pick you up. Okay?”

“O-Okay.”

~*3*~

Just like Tony predicted, Principal Fury gave Peter a day’s suspension. Mostly because he refused to name the bad boy as the instigator of the fight, which was already a strange ask. As Peter recalled, everyone had a video of the brawl. Everyone. Even Ned and MJ sent him clips of it. Yet, according to Fury, whenever someone tried showing the school faculty the video, their device would be wiped clean by some virus called ‘JARVIS’. So, without any real evidence, Tony was safe from expulsion.

After the meeting, Fury’s assistant called Aunt May. She was upset – and rightly so – promising Peter a stern talking-to, a loss of privileges, and an early curfew for the remainder of the week. Unlike the other parents, she was too busy with work, so she told Peter to walk home and think about what you’ve done, young man. And he guiltily agreed, knowing that Tony would be driving him instead.

With a quick text, Tony was on his way; k baby, b there in 5mins.

Even the way Tony sent messages made Peter feel anxious, and that anxiety followed him down the halls, to his locker, and finally to the front of the school, where Tony was parked and waiting. His car was just like him; sleek and dressed in black with tinted windows so dark that Peter had to be inches away to see inside them. It was expensive too; low to ground, sporty with shiny chrome rims, and branded with a luxury logo Peter’s never seen before. And anybody who was anybody would know that this car was a perk of being Howard Stark’s son.

“Hey,” Tony smiled as he rolled down the passenger side window. “You getting in or what?”

Peter blinked himself out of his drifting thoughts, “Um, y-yes! Sorry,” He mumbled as he fumbled with the car door, threw his backpack into the foot space, and slid into the passenger seat with little to no grace. Noticing the warmth of the car first, the faint smell of cologne next, and Tony’s soft eyes on him last. “Your car is- um, i-it’s nice!” His voice cracked and his gaze flickered around the car, symptoms of the nerves that swarmed his body when his eyes would meet Tony’s.

“Thanks. Stole it from my dad’s garage.” Tony’s honest laughter cut through the nervous atmosphere Peter’s mind was fabricating. “So, where do you want to eat? Pick anything. Let me treat you.”

Peter blushed, his arms instinctively moving around his body in a self hug to soothe his stress. “You don’t have to do that.” He whispered, shaking his head. “You already did a lot for me today, and I- um, I want to treat y-you!”

“Wow, Parker,” Tony raised his brow but grinned, “You want to treat me?”

“Yes,” As Peter’s anxiety eased, his words became clearer. “Anything you want – well, maybe not anything – I guess anything under thirty dollars would work. What would you like?”

Tony let out a light huff of breath that ended in a sly grin that was nothing if not suggestive. “I can think of a lot of things that I’d want from you, baby.”

Tony’s confidence was showing and, just like that, Peter’s stutter was back and paired with tinted cheeks and bashful eyes. His brain processed the flirting but left him without a coherent output, so he settled for a frantic and embarrassing, “I-I-I…um- I- w-what?”

“I can show you exactly what later.” Tony ended it there, seemingly changing the subject for Peter’s sake, but his flirty smile remained. “Let’s just grab some pizza and head to yours. That okay?”

“Y-You want to come over to m-my place?” Peter’s grip tightened at his sides as he rambled. “You wouldn’t like it- I mean, my room isn’t- I’m sort of a nerd, so- No one really comes over, except for Ned and MJ, but they know- I just- I don’t know if you would-”

“Peter.” The smooth way Peter’s name fell from Tony’s lips was enough to silence his apprehensive chatter, but the eye contact was what did him in. “Is that okay?” Tony repeated.

Peter nodded, “O-Okay, yes, but y-you have to leave before seven.”

“Yes, sir,” Tony jokingly said as he revved the engine and pulled away from the school. “But why seven?”

“Oh, um…my Aunt May will be home by then.” Peter sighed. “And she’s pretty upset, so I shouldn’t have company.”

Tony audibly tsked, “Why is she upset? It’s not like you did anything.”

“I got suspended,” Peter stressed, crossing his arms and averting his eyes. “I’ve never been suspended before, especially not for being a part of a fight.”

“Oh, sorry,” Tony quietly said as he clutched at the wheel, keeping his eyes trained on the road. “You mad?”

“No, not really,” Peter shook his head. “Aunt May is mad – and I’m definitely going to get an ear full – but it was worth it. I think.” He explained, “Seeing you fight was- um, it was really cool, like watching a boxing match or something. You seem trained.”

Tony nodded, “Yeah, I kind of have to be.”

“For fights?” Peter questioned, his eyes drifting across the older boy’s scabbing knuckles.

“Yeah, my old man made me take up boxing when I was young.”

“He made you? Did you not want to?”

“It’s not that,” Tony shrugged, ending the conversation like Peter stepped on his toes.

Then, they drove in silence. An awkward and deafening kind of silence – filled with the hum of Tony’s engine and whoosh of the passing scenery – but deafening nonetheless. Tony seemed off, his lips pressed in a hard line and his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The peeved energy radiating off the older boy made Peter feel tense like he was a sweater fraying at the seams. And, despite his best efforts, Peter couldn’t stop the way his body shook underneath that nerve-inducing pressure.

Until Tony clicked on the radio, that is.

Sounds of high tempo drumming, shredding guitars, and strong voices overtook the silence. It was rock ‘n’ roll, and it brought out a silly side of Tony that Peter didn’t expect. As they swerved through traffic, the older boy confidently belted out every lyric, passionately singing at the top of his lungs with a bright smile. Headbanging with each beat, turning to sing to Peter at every red light. One hand atop the steering wheel and the other emphasizing the emotion of the song through a mixture of air-guitar strums, fist pumps, and rhythmic taps on the center console. Needless to say, Peter was sent into a fit of laughter that melted his tension into nothing.

“What?” Tony laughed too. “You don’t like my music, baby?”

“I like it.” Peter blushed and shook his head,  “Led Zeppelin is amazing.”

“Okay, excuse you, we respect AC/DC in this car.” Tony grinned, “I hope your pizza tastes are better than your music knowledge.”

~*4*~

As Tony parked the car, Peter’s heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest. He wasn’t nervous at the pizza place, where Tony’s arm was draped over his shoulders as they ordered, or during the ride here, where Tony’s hand found its way to Peter’s knee. Yet, something about being outside his apartment building forced Tony’s earlier words to the forefront of Peter’s frazzled mind.

I can show you exactly what later.

With something like that hanging in the space between them, Peter didn’t know what to expect.

The smell of Tony’s cologne intensifying snapped Peter from his thoughts. The older boy pulled his key from the ignition and leaned across Peter to grab a cigarette pack from the glove compartment  – and wow, he smells amazing, Peter thought as Tony hopped out of the car. The slam of the door prompting Peter to hastily scramble out of the car as well. He gripped his backpack against his chest with one arm and cradled the pizza box with the other, stepping out into the cool air.

“So, um, this is my apartment building.” Peter’s voice squeaked and he hated it.

“I see that,” Tony smirked, pulling a plastic lighter from his pocket to light a cigarette. “I’ll save my applause for the actual apartment.”

“R-Right.” Peter watched as Tony leaned against the brick of the building. He was handsome, even when inhaling death and sporting bloodied knuckles and torn shirt. “Um…T-Tony?”

“Yeah?” Tony asked as he exhaled a puff of smoke that quickly dissipated in the space around him.

“I- um, what do- are we- why did-” Peter mumbled, his mind cycling through mountains of questions he wanted to be answered but finally settling on, “Why me?”

“What?” Tony gave a perplexed smile as he took another drag and blew it from the corner of his mouth. “I told you already,” Tony took a final inhale of smoke, before flicking the cigarette against the concrete and exhaling a gray, “I like you.”

“B-But why?” Peter pushed.

“Does it matter?” Tony shrugged as he entered the building, stopping to hold the door for Peter, who frantically scurried inside.

“I-I think it does,” Peter added as he led Tony upstairs and down the hall, stopping by his apartment door to reach for his key, but he couldn’t quite reach it with a backpack and a pizza box to hold. “You said I’m yours but-”

Without warning, Tony dipped his hand into Peter’s pocket, slowly and with a gentle drag against Peter’s thigh. The younger flinched, the unexpected contact effectively interrupting all trains of thought, save for the one in charge of his blushing cheeks, and hitching breath, and tensing muscles. And those feelings only intensified as Tony hooked the keyring but left his hand lingering. Using a gentle touch to caress through the pocket’s thin inner fabric and stepping closer, pressing the warmth of his body against Peter’s back.

“You looked like you were having a tough time there, Parker.” Tony’s voice was close enough that his scent of smoke filled Peter’s senses. “Here, let me.” And, as Tony pulled the keyring out and unlocked the door, all Peter could do was grip his backpack a bit tighter and will himself back to a semblance of calm.

“Now,” Tony flashed a knowing grin. “What were you saying, sweetheart?”

And Peter simply shook his head because – fuck – being called sweetheart shouldn’t make his heart do that and it certainly shouldn’t make his dick do that. “N-Nothing, come in.” He whispered and practically dashed into the apartment, distancing himself from the captivating warmth of Tony’s chest.

The apartment was homey; perfectly sized for two with coffee table clutter, arrays of family photos adorning the walls, and faint aromatic remnants of Aunt May’s morning coffee and Peter’s accidentally burnt toast. To Peter, it was warm and familiar, but today, it lacked those relaxing effects because of one curious bad boy’s eyes surveying the space.

Peter placed the pizza box against the dining table, fetched two plates from the kitchen cabinet, and settled in a chair. “So…um- this is the apartment.”

“It’s nice,” Tony said as he gestured towards the photo wall. “My old man hates that kind of stuff.”

“Family photos? Same.” Peter smiled, a light laugh escaping his lips. “May refuses to take those down.”

Tony shrugged as he slid into a chair. “They’re not that bad. That one of you at the science fair is pretty cute.”

��Oh god, not the science fair one. ” Peter mumbled, tipping his face into his hands, hiding his embarrassment. “I looked so terrible that day. No one told me that my hair was sticking up like that.”

“The hair is the best part.” Tony laughed and flicked open the pizza box, grabbing a slice and slumping against the back of the chair.

“Okay, that’s enough about me,” Peter grabbed a slice as well, taking a tiny bite before continuing, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I d-don’t know.” Peter glanced at the photos again. “Have you ever done a science fair?”

Tony shook his head, “No, my old man says those are for kids that want to be placated by science, not challenged.”

“Ouch,” Peter jokingly remarked. “I’ve done the science fair every year since elementary.”

Tony laughed, “I’m unsurprised.”

“H-Hey!” Peter giggled. “At least I was doing something. What were you doing?”

“Nothing much,” Tony took a bite of his pizza and fixed his gaze on the floor. “My old man taught me lab stuff, I guess.”

“Lab stuff?”

“Yeah, like coding and shit.” Tony shrugged, “I don’t really talk about it.”

“Coding?” Suddenly, something clicked in Peter’s mind. “Did you code the JARVIS virus that Fury was talking about?”

“Virus?” Tony glanced up. “Is that what Fury called him?”

“Him?”

“Yes, him.” Tony rolled his eyes, but his expression beamed. “JARVIS is my AI.”

“That helps you not get expelled?” Peter smirked.

“He can do way more than that.”

And their conversation traveled from there. Over pizza slices, connecting on nerdy topics like programming JARVIS and the processing power of the Stark lab’s computer. And Peter, knowing the extent of Tony’s truant record, was pleasantly surprised by the bad boy’s brilliance. As their chat shifted to Tony’s delinquency, he talked fights, and scars, and riveting stories involving police stations. Then they tripped through favorite video games, books, TV shows, and movies. Peter explained why lego movies are worth the watch and Tony teased but promised to watch it with him but only if we’re eating popcorn and under a blanket, baby.

It ended once the clock hit five and the pizza box went empty and Peter’s homework could no longer wait.

“That’s fine.” Tony stood, grabbing the empty box and their two plates. “I’ve got this. Go start your homework.”

Peter nodded with a smile, “Thanks.” He grabbed his backpack and started toward his room, but panicked once he opened the door. The realization that Tony Stark would soon be in there hitting his peace of mind like a nuclear bomb. He threw his bag against his desk and tornado-ed around his room, cleaning up his embarrassment one neglected pair of floor boxers at a time. He didn’t need Tony seeing that picture of him at summer camp and he was sure his stuffed bear would forgive him for throwing it into the closet.

“Hey, I left the pizza box by the door, I’ll take it out when I leave so your aunt doesn’t suspect anything- what are you doing?” Tony paused in the doorway, shooting Peter a raised brow and an amused grin.

“H-Homework, obviously.” Peter nervously said as he shut his closet door and awkwardly crossed the room to sit at his desk.

“Is that right?” Tony repeated with crossed arms as he approached Peter, stopping just behind his chair. “Your desk looks awfully empty, baby.”

Peter shook his head, frantically grabbing notebooks from his backpack and placing them onto the desk. “I-It looks fine to me.”

“Sure, Parker.” Tony laughed and leaned forward to drape his arms over Peter’s shoulders, hugging him from behind. “Whatever you say.”

Peter flinched at the sudden closeness, his mind flashing back to his previous concerns about the speed of Tony’s affection. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“E-Earlier, I was saying that…um- you said that I’m yours, but what-”

“Peter, I like you.” Tony interrupted, gently tightening his embrace. “Simple as that. I fell for you today, and yes, it was fast – really fucking fast, I get it – but the point is that I fell.” He ended his sentiment with a swift kiss to Peter’s cheek. “Focus on that, baby.”

Peter cursed his body for its constant blushing and quickened heartbeats, but he smiled anyway. “O-Okay.”

After that, Peter did his homework in peace, while Tony resigned himself to the comfort of Peter’s bed, falling into a nap that lasted until the clock hit seven; lasted until Peter was whispering his name to ease him awake; lasted until they were hugging to say goodbye.

I had a great day today, Tony.

Me too, baby.

~*5*~

“I am so disappointed in you, Peter,” May shook her head as she stepped into her work shoes by the front door. This was her fourth parental lecture since yesterday night and it featured all the same points: Fighting? Really, Peter? Really? You’re lucky you got off with only one day of suspension. What were you thinking? You know better than this. No leaving this apartment, understand? I want you to do your chores and your homework and think about what you’ve done, young man.

“I know, May.” Peter nodded. “I messed up. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.” May sighed, giving Peter a sympathetic smile as she pulled him into a tight hug. “Love you, and I’ll see you after work, okay?”

“Okay, love you too.”

With that, Peter was alone and turning around to head back into his room – resign himself to his punishments, do homework, think about what he’s done – but then, there was a knock. And, like any normal teenager, he squinted at the door as if it was his one true adversary, cautiously stalking towards it to peek through the peephole. Surprised to see, standing just beyond the threshold, a leather-clad Tony Stark.

Peter swung the door open, “W-What are you doing here?”

“Happy suspension day. This is a kidnapping.” Tony smirked, stepping forward to lean against the doorway. “Get your shoes, Parker.”

“My shoes?” Peter stared incredulously at the bad boy. “Tony, I have stuff to do- I can’t go anywhere- I-”

“Did you miss the part about the kidnapping?” Tony brought his hand up against Peter’s chin. “I’ll take you even if you don’t get the shoes, baby.”

Peter rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his lips or the feelings that tugged at his heartstrings. “O-Okay, hold on.” He ran into his room, donning shoes and a warm baggy sweatshirt. He didn’t know where they were going – with Tony, it could be anywhere – but that was part of his bad boy charm.

“I got shoes,” Peter announced as he sauntered out of his room and back towards the front door. “Now, where are we going?”

“Kidnapped people don’t get those kinds of privileges.” Tony smiled, watching as Peter locked the front door before throwing his arm around his shoulders. “Just follow me.”

Peter let Tony guide him out of the building and to a car he didn’t recognize. A gray sedan with chrome rims and, when the front windows rolled down, it revealed a car filled with people he didn’t recognize either.

They were all teens but not from Tony and Peter’s school. They seemed different; richer. The guy in the driver’s seat was burly with a letterman jacket and an innocent face. The girl in the passenger seat had a perfectly pony-tailed updo and air of class that matched her cashmere sweater. The taller boy in the back was a lot like Tony, sporting a leather jacket and an inherent coolness that made his smile seem sly. The shorter boy wore glasses and a plaid button-up that reminded Peter of himself.

“Took you long enough.”

“And I’ll take longer next time if you keep that up, Happy.” Tony laughed as he opened the backseat door and slid in, motioning for Peter to sit on his lap.

“Y-Your lap?” As per usual, Peter’s voice cracked under pressure.

“Hurry up, new kid, either you sit there or I do.” The glasses-wearing boy spoke with a seriousness that compelled Peter not to dwell.

Peter scooted onto Tony’s lap and he angled himself so that his legs sat between Tony’s and his back was slightly turned towards the door. He tried his best to position himself – modestly? – and prevent any accidental touches, but then Tony’s arms were around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Happy tends to drive a little crazy,” Tony whispered, his voice only inches from Peter’s ear. “So I’ve got you.”

“O-Okay,” Peter blushed as he leaned against Tony’s chest, easing against the warmth and slowly inhaling the fresh shampoo scent wafting from his hair.

“So, are you going to introduce us or should we fend for ourselves here?” The boy with the sly smile spoke.

Tony laughed, “Peter, this is Happy, Pepper, Rhodey, and Bruce.”

“Did he kidnap you all too?” Peter jokingly remarked.

“Basically,” Bruce joined the jest. “A suspension for one is a skip day for all.”

“A Tony Stark creed,” Rhodey said and Pepper readily agreed, saying, “Did you know the T in Tony is the same as the T in Truancy?”

Peter giggled, “Is that true, Tony?”

“No,” Tony smirked, giving Peter a light squeeze that made the younger boy giggle. “They just like me so much that they flock to me. Anything else they say is a lie.”

And as Happy drove, there was more laughter, and faces brimming with smiles, and lighthearted jokes thrown back and forth. It was easy for Peter to find comfort in this space, even while sitting in Tony’s lap. In fact, by the end of the drive, he was leaning against Tony like he belonged there; like sitting in his lap was second nature.

Peter peeked out the window as Happy parked the car. “The park?”

“Best place to loiter,” Tony said as he opened the door. “And smoke.”

“Oh god, remember when we smoked in your dad’s lab?” Bruce rolled his eyes as he hopped out of the car with the others following suit. “That did not go over well.”

Tony shrugged. “Better than how shit with him usually goes.”

Peter tugged on Tony’s sleeve and whispered, “You two were smoking in the lab?”

“Tony!” Pepper gasped, “You didn’t tell him?”

“Full disclosure, new kid,” Bruce smiled as he pulled a vape from his pocket.  “Me and Tony used to fuck – he’s got grade A dick, just so you know.”

Tony laughed and Pepper rolled her eyes. “I’m not as eloquent as Bruce, but Tony and I also used to date.” She pushed at Tony’s arm, “Tony should have told you before dragging you out with us.”

And Peter tried to play it cool. All shrugs and nonchalant expressions of how fine with it he was. Yet, as they began walking the path through the park, he couldn’t stop his mind from playing the comparison game. Pepper was beautiful – beyond beautiful – with long legs, poise, and an immaculate style that made Peter feel self-conscious his baggy sweatshirt. When it came to Bruce, confidence was in endless supply. He was shameless and, after just one conversation, Peter also found out how insanely smart he was. So, needless to say, Peter was feeling pretty low in the self-esteem department.

But leave it to Tony to turn that low into a high. “Walk with me?” He asked, but wasted no time in gathering Peter’s hand in his own. “You seem quiet now. Are the trees not doing it for you?”

“It’s not that. The park’s nice,” Peter shook his head and gently squeezed Tony’s hand. “I’m just too nervous for my own good, I guess.”

“That’s part of your charm, baby.”

Peter smiled, “I-I’m sure you’re just saying that, but thanks.”

“I mean it,” Tony brushed their shoulders together. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “I-Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” Tony explained. “You made a similar face yesterday too. So what’s wrong?” He smirked, the same dark and mischievous smirk as before. “Do I need to put someone in their place?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Peter laughed and moved to walk closer to Tony. “But um…actually, now that you mention it, can you drop me off at school this week?”

“Sure, not like I’m doing anything. Why?”

“Safety?” Peter shrugged. “I think people might do something to me if you’re not there.”

“Oh fuck, right. I didn’t think about that. Hold up,” He stopped on the path, letting the others walk ahead as he pulled off his jacket and draped it over Peter’s shoulders. “Here,” Tony smiled and cupped Peter’s face in his hands. “Wear this and no one will fuck with you and, if they do, I’ll kill ‘em.”

Peter smiled, but before he could say anything, Tony was leaning in – and holy shit, it was a kiss lean! He panicked and squeezed his eyes shut, his nerves erupting as Tony’s smell got closer and closer and – oh – he kissed his forehead.

The moment was sweet, but quickly soured a random passerby who felt the need to yell faggots!

“The fuck did you just say?!” Tony went from zero to beyond one hundred, snapping on the random man without a second thought.

“You heard me.” The man challenged, “What are you going to do about, huh?”

And things happened fast. Too fast for Peter to process. One moment, the man was standing and the next, he wasn’t and Tony’s fist was the culprit. Again, it was an outburst of violence that left Peter not knowing how to feel.

“Tony!” Peter gasped and reached his hand out, grabbing at the fabric of the bad boy’s shirt in a weak attempt at holding him back. “S-Stop it!” He shakily said, watching Tony carefully as the man scrambled to his feet, running off as Happy and Bruce jogged back over.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, his face full of concern.

“Tony hit him,” Peter whispered as he slowly let go of Tony’s shirt.

And, before anyone could get another word in, Tony was walking off, fuming like a smoking gun that failed to kill its target.

“Tony, man, wait up!” Happy ran after him.

“Don’t mind him. He’s always like that.” Bruce bumped his shoulder against Peter’s. “Either you get used to it or you end up like me and Pep.”

“I don’t want that,” Peter whispered, his eyes locked on Tony and his fingers fiddling with the hem of the leather jacket.

“Don’t want what?” Bruce raised his brow. “To deal with Tony’s anger issues? Same.”

“N-No! Not that.” Peter shot Bruce a stern glance. “I don’t want to be like you and Pepper.”

“Oh, wow! Okay.” Bruce laughed, harder than he has all day. “I can see why Tony likes you.”

“At least one of us does.” Peter trained his gaze on the floor. “I still don’t understand why Tony likes me.”

Bruce shook his head, “Tony is fucking unhinged. He’s a vicious fighter; a delinquent through and through, but he’s also sweet and uncomplicated. If you’ve given him the space to be anything other than, well, that,” He paused, gesturing over to Tony, who was slumped against a park bench with a cigarette perched between his lips. “Then he’ll like you. ”

“What do you mean?”

“All Tony cares about is being understood, and if you’ve given him that, he’ll protect you. Violently protect you..” Bruce placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “The question is whether or not you can handle that violence.”

“He’s not that violent.” Peter pulled his shoulder away, stepping back, his voice becoming taut. “He protected me. He stood up for me.”

“Look, Tony empathizes with people who can’t fight back.” Bruce shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “And sure, at first, you feel like he fights to protect you; to keep all the bad shit away; to stop bullies, but then he goes too far. He loses control and expects you to be his limiter. He wants you to be the one who tells him when to stop and when to go, when to hurt people and when to spare them. I couldn’t deal with that shit and, after everything that happened with Justin, Pepper couldn’t deal either.”

“Justin?”

“Yeah, Justin Hammer, the kid Tony put in the hospital.” Bruce sighed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the rest of the group were out of earshot before continuing. “Long story short: Justin used to hang out with us but, during some party, he touched Pepper while she was drunk. Pep cried about it and Tony lost it. The next day, he broke both of Justin’s arms, fractured a few ribs, and left blood and bruises everywhere else.”

Peter crossed his arms and spoke under his breath, “Sounds like Justin deserved it.”

Bruce audibly tsked and flashed a knowing look. “That’s why Tony likes you.”

And Peter didn’t know how to feel.

~*6*~

The school day was always the same for Peter – bus, class, lunch, class, bus – and peppered in there was always a good dash of bullying.

But not today.

No, today, he wore Tony’s jacket. It was big on him; the sleeves covered his hands completely, save for his fingertips that peeked out the bottom when his arms were at his sides. The black leather contrasted with his blue jeans and his plaid button-up, but today, he wore it confidently because it was Tony’s way of protecting him.

From the moment Peter got off the bus, the jacket was like a force field. Not only preventing the usual teasing and ridicule from the nameless students but also managing to stop repeat offenders like Flash, who glared at him like he was going to say something but turned the other way instead.

And, with the power of the jacket, came the slight ego boost. The unbothered gait into the school, the comfortable smile as he forged the crowded hallways, the lack of fear, even as he rounded the corner to find Sam and Bucky standing at his locker. They made eye contact and gestured for him to come over and, on a regular day, Peter would probably run and hide; try his best to avoid his locker until absolutely necessary.

But, again, not today.

Today, Peter strolled over to his locker without even an ounce of worry – well, his hands were trembling in his pockets and he was already biting the inside of his lip – but he liked to think he was projecting a calm demeanor. “Yes?” Peter spoke softly, trying to keep his voice steady.

“We wanted to…um-” Bucky looked to Sam.

“To say sorry for everything.” Sam finished Bucky’s sentiment. “And, if you’re interested-”

“Steve is having a party at his house on Friday night.” Bucky chimed in with a smile.

Sam nodded, “And you’re invited, Parker.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. He was invited to a Steve Rogers party? Him; a nerdy, skittish, bullied nobody, who could only ever dream of being cool enough to go to a fucking Steve – famously popular quarterback – Rogers party. Like what the fuck?

“Really? M-Me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, lightly chuckling at Peter’s reaction. “You can bring a friend too if you’d like.”

“You in?” Sam asked.

Peter nodded, his eyes still wide with disbelief but his mind chalking it up to the power of the jacket. “Yeah, I’ll… um- I’ll be there.”

“Great, see you later, Peter.” Bucky waved as he and Sam disappeared down the crowded hallway.

“Okay, but are you actually going?” It was MJ, leaning against the lockers with crossed arms and a doubtful stare.

“MJ!” Peter flinched at her sudden appearance. “You have to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

“Like this!” Ned screamed, making Peter flinch even harder. This time he dropped his textbook and clumsily spun on his heel to face the source of his terror, and it threw MJ into a fit of laughter.

“Dude!” Peter exclaimed with a big smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it.” Ned grabbed the dropped book and glanced at MJ. “So, what are we scaring Peter for?”

“He got invited to a party full of assholes.” MJ pointedly said. “And he said he’s going.”

“A party?” Ned raised his brow, ignoring MJ’s concerns and shooting his best friend an excited look. “What party?”

“A Steve Rogers party.” Peter excitedly whispered.

“Dude!” Ned’s jaw dropped, “That jacket must be magic. Can I borrow it for the Calc test today?”

MJ rolled her eyes, “You guys are unbelievable.”

~*7*~

“Steve invited me to a party.” Peter rolled against the carpet, propping his head up against his arm and glancing up from his textbook. “It’s on Friday night.”

“Rogers did?” Tony asked, shifting against the sheets, peeking off the edge of the bed at Peter. “You going?”

“I think so,” Peter smiled up at Tony, idly fiddling with the pages of his notebook. “B-But I don’t want to go by myself.”

Tony smiled back, “Are you asking me out on a date, baby?”

“N-No,” Peter blushed. “Maybe.”

Tony smirked, “Well, I’ve got a thing on Friday night.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, my old man is holding this fucking investor event at our house. I’m not trying to piss him off,” Tony sighed. “So I can’t miss it, but I’ll show up at Rogers’ place after.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged, “We can just meet each other there.”

“Just don’t get too drunk without me.” Tony laughed and sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “Are you done with your work yet? We should play some video games or something before your aunt gets back.”

“You know I can’t.” Peter lifted his notebook. “I have to finish this.”

“Let me see.” Tony tapped the bed beside him.

“It’s this one.” Peter shifted up onto his knees and put his notebook on the bed. “I’ve checked it over and over and I can’t-”

“You rounded wrong here.” Tony pointed at the paper. “Take the ceiling, not the floor.”

“Oh?” Peter squinted, his eyes scanning across his work. “Oh! That’s it! How did I miss that?” He smiled, fixing his mistake and looking back up to Tony. “Wait, can you help with this one too?”

“I mean, that’s just all wrong. Give me that.” Tony grabbed the pencil and started making corrections. “You need to make sure you use the right function here and don’t forget the extra square on this one.”

Peter laughed, “I’ve been stuck on these for hours and you finished them in two minutes.”

“It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever. I really appreciate it.” Peter smiled, “I think smart Tony is the coolest Tony.”

“As opposed to what?”

“Naps-all-afternoon Tony?” Peter joked but gazed up at Tony with a look of concern. “Why are you always so sleepy?”

“I don’t sleep well at home.”

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony whispered as he brought his hand against Peter’s cheek. “I just sleep better here.” His hand moved to Peter’s chin, drawing a slow line from the spot just below Peter’s lip to the hollow of his collarbone. “Because the bed smells like you.”

“Tony,” Peter gasped, realizing too late what kind of position they were in. He was on his knees, and if he inched sideways, he would be between Tony’s legs. His face went hot and, judging by the smile that worked its way to Tony’s lips, his blush was apparent.

“Yes, baby?” Tony’s voice was full of tease as he brought his hand back up to gently tap his fingertip against Peter’s bottom lip. “You want something?”

“I- um…I-” Peter froze, watching with bewildered eyes as Tony leaned in – yet another kiss lean! So Peter instinctively tensed, his eyes flickering shut as his nerves took hold of his reactions once again.

And Tony stopped just before their lips touched.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Tony whispered, shifting upward to press a quick kiss on Peter’s forehead before pulling away. “Here,” Tony grabbed the pencil again. “I’ll help you with the rest of this and then we can play some games. Deal?”

“Deal.”

~*8*~

The next day was different.

Tony was quieter – angrier? – Peter couldn’t tell, but he knew it had to be caused by the small bruise darkening on Tony’s cheekbone. It was a rare sight; a mark on the face of the undefeated bad boy. And Peter wanted to ask about it, wanted to know if Tony was okay, but the silence was suffocating. In the car, the older boy didn’t say a word – no playful flirting, no rock ‘n’ roll jam session – just silence. So, Peter followed suit, letting his nerves go wild as they made their way to his apartment.

As usual, once Tony parked, he reached for his pack of cigarettes and got out of the car. Peter hastily made his own exit, keeping his eyes trained on Tony’s expression. The older boy wasn’t just quiet, he was outright irritable. That was made clear by the scowl twisting on his face. He was clumsier too, and frustrated with the smallest things, like accidentally dropping a cigarette into a sidewalk puddle or his cheap lighter refusing to spark. He was all huffs and grumbles and refused to say a word.

With a new cigarette perched between his lips, Tony furiously pulled at the spark-wheel. Once, twice, three times, but it just didn’t catch. Peter wanted to say that Tony could smoke in the apartment – Aunt May was bound to have a lighter sitting around somewhere – but the Tony’s furrowed brow and waning patience was just as suffocating as his silence.

So, again, Peter remained silent.

It was only after what seemed like the thousandth, or millionth, flick of the wheel that Tony finally spoke, or rather yelled. “Fuck it!” He exclaimed as he spiked the lighter against the sidewalk with enough force to shatter the plastic. The outburst made Peter’s shoulders jump and his gaze drop to the concrete.

“Let’s go,” Tony mumbled, paying Peter no mind and stuffing the cigarette back into the pack before stomping his way into the building.

This part was also very different. He didn’t hold the door for Peter. He didn’t pester Peter about having fun before studying. No video games, no TV, not even one of those intimate chats he loved so much. He just went right into Peter’s room, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed against the middle of the bed.

For a short while, Peter didn’t bother him. He sat at his desk, pulled out his notebooks, his laptop, and textbook, and started his homework. Yet, he couldn’t finish the first problem, or the second, or the third. His brain refused to focus because it was tethered to everything happening with Tony. All of the older boy’s sighs, the soft clicks of his tongue, the shuffle of his leather jacket against the covers as he tossed and turned. And, while Peter still couldn’t find the courage to speak, he couldn’t keep doing nothing either.

Tony needed him, so the homework could wait.

Peter slowly stood from his chair, careful to keep it from making noise as he approached the grumbling mess on his bed. His nerves were screaming, and his heart was beating so fast and so loud that he could hear it in his ears. And his hands were shaky, and his throat felt tight, and his mind taunted him with replays of Tony’s standoffish behavior; the silence, the irritability, the sudden outburst.

Yet, despite all that, Peter still scooted up onto the bed, sitting just below the pillows with the side of his thigh only an inch away from Tony’s hair. And wow – Tony’s hair – Peter has never touched it before, but he found himself instinctively carding his fingers through it. Gentle and soothing pats, just like Tony does to him.

And Peter watched with wary eyes as Tony flinched but immediately settled into the touch. That wordless way of relaxing was all the encouragement Peter needed. So, he continued, rhythmically dragging his fingers through the short locks and smiling as the older boy moved to rest the back of his head in Peter’s lap.

Peter kept his right hand in Tony’s hair, but placed his left against the older boy’s chest, idly drawing circles on his t-shirt. The moment was long, but Peter didn’t mind. He continued until Tony’s eyes were closed, and his brow wasn’t furrowed, and his scowl had gone away.

Then, Peter found his voice. “What happened?” He softly whispered, gently skimming his fingertips across Tony’s bruised cheekbone.

The question made Tony’s brow knit, but the soft caress of Peter’s hands relaxed it away. “My old man.” He paused, letting out another sigh, “He found out about the fucking suspension and the fight and he-” Again, Tony paused. “He just did what he always does.”

“What?” Peter’s eyes started to sting and his hands started to tremble, as did his breath, “Y-Your dad did this to you?” He could barely get the words out. His mind was bombarded with flashes of every moment where Tony avoided questions about his dad and his time at home. How could Peter miss those signs?

My old man made me take up boxing when I was young. My old man hates that kind of stuff. No, my old man says those are for kids that want to be placated by science, not challenged. Better than how shit with him usually goes. Yeah, my old man is holding this fucking investor event at our house. I’m not trying to piss him off. I don’t sleep well at home.

And it was too much, so Peter cried.

“Hey, don’t cry, baby.” Tony finally opened his eyes, staring into Peter’s teary ones and reaching up to castaway the wetness trickling down his cheeks.

“B-But he- To you, he-” Peter tried to hold back his sobs, biting the inside of his lip and training his eyes on the ceiling to prevent more waterworks. He was supposed to be comforting Tony, not the other way around. “It’s w-wrong. That he d-did this to you.”

“I know,” Tony hummed.

“He’s- He’s your dad. He should never do that.”

“I know.” Tony grabbed Peter’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

“He’s supposed to care about you! He’s-!”

“I know.” Tony lifted Peter’s hand and pressed a kiss against it. “But it’s okay. Don’t cry about it. I don’t even cry about it.”

“Tony, that’s-” Peter shook his head. “Then I’ll cry for you.”

“Peter-”

“It’s okay to be scared, Tony,” Peter whispered.

“I- yeah, I know.” Tony nodded, gently squeezing Peter’s hand. “Thank you, baby, but let’s not talk about that right now.” And, for the first time today, he grinned. His voice was less somber; less grumbly; less full of frustrated huffs. Instead, it was more Tony or, rather, more flirty. “I don’t want to kill this mood.”

“This mood?” Peter let out a small breathy laugh and sniffled, “I’m ugly crying, and you’ve been quiet and angry all day. There is no mood.”

“Yeah, I know, but-” Tony paused, seemingly struggling to find the right words. “It’s just- you’re touching me and you don’t usually do that, so-” Tony laughed too, and it was just as breathy as Peter’s. “I’m – fuck, I don’t know – I guess I’m just excited?”

“Excited?” Peter repeated, and Tony answered by gesturing to the front of his jeans, where a clear bulge had formed in the black denim, right beneath the zipper.

Peter’s face went hot, and he stopped his touches because, suddenly, he was attuned to the mood as well. Not only that, but his mind – the same one that secretly admired Tony’s eyes, and Tony’s lips, and Tony’s broad shoulders, and Tony’s smell, and Tony’s everything – yeah, that mind – it made Peter’s own excitement start to stiffen. After all, he was alone in his bedroom – on! his! bed! – with Tony Stark and, fuck, he couldn’t stop glancing at Tony’s zipper. “I- You- You’re-?” Peter stuttered.

“Yeah,” Tony’s voice was more hesitant than usual. “Is that- I mean, are you… okay with it?”

Peter nodded, his flushed face getting redder with each little dip of his chin, “Y-Yes.”

“You sure?” Tony asked again, and Peter nodded again. His big brown eyes darting to his desk, and to his dorky posters, and to his messy bookshelf, and to literally anything else because any spare glance at Tony made his nerves erupt beyond his control.

Tony smiled as he sat up, moving to sit beside Peter and leaning so their shoulders brushed against each other. “I know you get nervous around me.”

“What?” Peter’s voice squeaked. “N-No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. So I’m just going to ask this time.” Tony gave a slight laugh – a nervous laugh, really – as he ran a hand through his short hair and made a look Peter could only describe as cautiously eager. “Can I kiss you, Peter? On your lips this time.”

And, again, Peter nodded because his words never worked when he wanted them to. His body was a bashful, shaky mess, but he was also excited so he shifted against the bed, facing Tony before closing his eyes. And he gasped when Tony’s hand cupped his face and gently caressed the space beneath his ear. And he couldn’t see when Tony leaned in, but he could feel the heated closeness and the warm breath tickling his lips and soft bump of Tony’s nose against his own. He could feel the way Tony angled their heads, each slightly tilted to the right. He could feel the experimental brush of Tony’s lips against his own, so Peter pushed, pressing their lips together in a tender first kiss.

It was sweet, not too wet or too dry, and full of emotion that could make hearts hurt. Peter could tell that Tony had kissed before because, when Peter thought it was time to pull away, Tony deepened. Sucking on Peter’s bottom lip, coaxing his lips apart. This was wetter, Peter thought, but he didn’t hate it. No, in fact, that earlier excitement was now fully hardened and pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. And the way Tony kissed him – now confident and brimming with passion – it didn’t help.

Then, Tony licked into Peter’s mouth, and Peter had to catch a sound in his throat. He didn’t know what the sound was – a moan, a whine, or, oh god, was it a mewl? – whatever it was, he stopped it. There was no way he was going to make needy sounds in front of Tony. He would die of embarrassment, he was convinced, but – fuck – Tony’s other hand was against his thigh now.

So Peter had to stifle another sound – multiple sounds, actually – as Tony’s hand slowly trailed upward. Dragging his fingertips against Peter’s inner thigh and stopping just before Peter’s zipper.

That’s when Tony broke the kiss.

Peter’s head was reeling, and his breaths were heavy because breathing while kissing was oddly difficult. And his face was all but boiling under his endless nerves, and the intensity of Tony’s gaze, and the arousal that bubbled at his core.

“Can I touch you here, baby?” Tony whispered against Peter’s lips. His fingertips grazing Peter’s smooth cheek as he squeezed the inside of his thigh.

And the sultry way that pet name rolled off the bad boy’s tongue sent a wave of goosebumps across Peter’s skin. It was all too much for the younger boy to handle – the kisses, the whispers, the touches – so, he gave in to his urges. “Yes,” Peter whined, all needy and high-pitched as he gripped at the bottom of Tony’s jacket like a lifeline.

“Wow, are those sounds for me, baby?” Tony playfully grinned, and pressed his hand against Peter’s zipper, happily watching the younger boy squirm beneath the touch.

Peter gasped, his body instinctively tensing at the spark of pleasure that rushed his senses. Sure, there were two layers of clothes between Tony’s hand and Peter’s budding erection, but it still felt amazing. He nodded as a desperate Mhmm fell from his lips and he used all his willpower to keep his hips from grinding up against Tony’s hand. “Tony,” Peter moaned, his half-lidded gaze bouncing between Tony’s hand and Tony’s lips.

Then, they were kissing again. It was deeper; eager; hotter and somehow, Peter found himself being pushed down by the strength of Tony’s hold. His back fell against the sheets and Tony hovered above him. Their mouths unbreaking as Tony’s hand worked at Peter’s jean button, and then his zipper, and soon, Tony was tugging at the waist of the denim.

The sensation of Tony’s trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck was one thing, but thoughts of Tony’s hand stroking him bare were enough to reduce Peter to a breathy, whiny mess.

Tony paused to kiss the spot just above Peter’s collarbone, sucking hard enough that a dark red mark was left in his wake. He pulled away, then, admiring his work paired the aroused expression on Peter’s face. He grinned, his voice playful as he whispered, “You like that, baby?”

Did Peter like this? Yes. He unequivocally liked this. He fucking liked this. He didn’t think the word ‘like’ could even begin to convey how much. So he lifted his hand from the sheets, bringing his fingertips to Tony’s cheek, down his neck, over the collar of his t-shirt, across his chest, and beneath the loose fabric of the bottom hem. He kept his eyes locked on Tony the entire time, watching the small hitched breaths and the barely noticeable flinches as he skimmed his hand up Tony’s shirt.

And just as Tony hooked his finger in the elastic of Peter’s boxers, and Peter parted his lips to answer, the sound of the front door opening rippled through the apartment.

“Peter!” It was Aunt May’s voice. “I’m home early! Are you here?”

Fuck, May’s back. A collective expression shared by both boys that killed any and all arousal.

“Yes! Hold on, I’ll be right there!” Peter yelled back, frantically adjusting his clothes and hair and – oh god – he smells like Tony and his shirt didn’t quite cover the hickey on his neck and why the fuck is May home so early? “What do we do?” He whispered in a panic.

“Relax,” Tony smiled, letting out a small laugh. “I’ll just go say hi.” He calmly said as he adjusted himself in the mirror before starting towards the door.

“W-Wait, Tony-  I’m- I’m still grounded!” Peter whisper screamed, but that didn’t stop Tony from walking out into the living room, so Peter had no choice but to reluctantly trail behind the bad boy.

“Peter, who’s this?” May asked as she took off her jacket and shoes.

“I’m Tony, ma’am.” He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Tony Stark.”

May smiled and shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Tony.” She said, flashing Peter an all too familiar you-are-in-so-much-trouble look.

“May, I-” Peter stepped forward. “I can explain.”

“Yes you will, but it can wait until later.” May crossed her arms, “Now, young man, what on earth happened to your face? Sit down,” She guided Tony to a dining chair before disappearing into the kitchen and emerging with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel. “Here, hold this against it.”

“It’s nothing.” Tony shrugged, taking the ice bag with a thankful smile.

May propped her hand against her waist and nodded, “Well, if nothing keeps happening, you come and tell me. Understood?”

“Um-” Tony looked taken aback but, despite his confusion, he nodded, “Okay, yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, and you’re staying for dinner.” May smiled as he turned to place a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I want to get to know my nephew’s boyfriend.”

Peter blushed, “May!”

~*9*~

“Dude, are you sure you’re allowed to be here?” MJ asked as she pulled the car against the curb in front of Steve Rogers’ house. “It doesn’t look like your kind of thing.”

MJ was right. The bass-heavy hitlist was loud enough to hear through the glass of the car window. The lawn was littered with red cups, silver cans, and cars parked carelessly on the grass. Partygoers loitered on the front porch puffing smoke that reddened the whites of their eyes. This party was a far cry from the small movie nights Peter shared with best friends.

“I was invited, MJ.” Peter rolled his eyes, shuffling begrudgingly in the passenger side seat. He knew what she was asking – will you be okay here, Peter? “Tony is coming too, so I’ll be fine.”

“Of course he is.” MJ sighed, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “But he couldn’t spare some time to bring you here himself.”

“He had something to do with his dad.” Peter dropped his gaze into his lap.

“That doesn’t excuse him,” MJ’s voice was firm, unmoving. “And let’s be honest here. You wouldn’t have been invited if he hadn’t brutalized half of the people in there. Bullies don’t become friendly after being put in their place. They become vengeful. He should be in there with you now!”

“MJ, I’ll be fine!” Peter snapped because, even now, he didn’t know how to feel. Tony was violent – he understood that – but he couldn’t stand the constant reminders. “Stop talking about Tony like that!”

“Like what?” She challenged. “Like the guy he is. A violent, privileged asshole like the rest of them, who fights people for no reason, and who’s probably just using you fo-!”

“MJ, stop! You don’t get to talk about him like that! You don’t know him!”

“Oh?” MJ tilted her head and scowled. “And you do? After one fucking week? You think you know him?!”

“Yes! I do!” Peter nearly screamed. “And if you can’t trust me on this one, then just fucking leave!” He threw open the door, moving to get out.

MJ’s face softened and she reached to grab his arm. “Peter, wait! I didn’t mean-”

“No!” Peter put his hands up, silencing her completely. “You don’t get it, MJ!” He paused, biting the inside of his lip, holding back his anger. “You just don’t.”

“Fine, you’re right.” MJ sighed, squeezing the steering wheel and letting her head fall against the headrest. “I don’t get it! I don’t understand why my best friend, who was being tortured last week, would start hanging out with his torturers!” She sighed once more, her hands falling into her lap. “But I do trust you, dude, so I’m sorry. I’m just worried. Something about this whole thing seems off.”

Peter mirrored his friend’s sigh, “I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s just a party and, like I said, Tony will be here soon.”

“He better be.” MJ nodded. “Please be safe.”

“I will.” Peter stepped out of the car, flashing a bright smile. “And I’ll be sure to prepare a full report on the inner workings of a Steve Rogers party. Tell Ned.”

MJ laughed, “You tell him, dork.”

Peter joined the laughter, his anger nowhere to be found in the lighthearted exchange. “Thanks again, MJ, for the ride and the worry.”

“Anytime, dude. Call me if you need me.” With that, MJ rolled away, leaving Peter to fend for himself in the unfamiliar landscape of a high school party.

Peter ascended the porch stairs. The front door wasn’t locked or pulled shut and, even if he knocked, he knew no one would hear it over the music pumping from inside. So he took a deep breath and entered the fray. The house smelled of beer breath and fruity vapor laced with the pungent undertones of high-inducing grass. It was dark and foggy and significantly hotter than the brisk outside air. The main entrance was packed with people chatting in groups. Nobody familiar, but the litany of eyes sizing him up said that they knew exactly who he was.

Panic hit quicker than Peter thought it would as he politely excused himself through the crowded hallway. His unmistakable nerves rattling through his body with each careful step. Eventually, he made it to the kitchen, where the only light poured from the dim yellow bulb illuminating the stovetop. The beer smell was stronger here, so was the presence of variously sized glass bottles filled with brown and clear liquids.

“Parker!” It was Sam’s voice. “You made it!”

Peter spun on his heel. Emerging from the crowds was a very stumbly Sam Wilson, who reeked of beer. Behind him was Steve, whose hand was resting against Bucky’s waist.

“H-Hi!” Peter blurted out. “I… um- I just got here.”

“Are you the kid everyone’s talking about?” Steve asked, stepping forward and throwing his other arm around Sam’s shoulder. “Stark’s new owner?”

“I guess,” Peter nodded. “B-But I don’t-”

“Have you had a drink?” Steve asked. “You should have a drink.” He turned to Bucky, pressing his forehead into Bucky’s hair. “Can you get him a drink, babe?”

“Sure.”

And, within minutes, Peter was cradling a beer. The condensation left his palms wet and the taste left his expression in disgust. Beer was nasty, but Steve, Sam, and Bucky were compelling and their ability to attract an audience was even more so. They rallied cheers and chants of chug, chug, chug as Peter downed his first beer ever. The rush of being the center of attention outweighing both his clear mind and the terrible wheaty aftertaste of beers two and three.

It was when Bucky poured the shots that Peter finally asked for a break, but again, they were compelling. So just this one shot, Peter, and then we can go play some games with everyone. The vodka was lava down his throat, warming his body and adding to his haze. With Steve’s hand patting his shoulder and Sam’s impressed look because – damn, Parker can actually hold it down – Peter didn’t mind the teeth-numbing lightheadedness or the floaty instability.

After Sam grabbed a full bottle of vodka and Steve took a case of beer from the fridge, Peter was whisked away. Towed along by Bucky as the group pushed their way through the hall and into a room away from the crowds; Steve’s room.

But inside was a nightmare.

Sitting around the room – some on the bed, some on the floor – with drinks in their hands and smirks on their faces were Peter’s bullies; Clint, Natasha, Thor, and Loki.

“Hey boys,” Natasha greeted them with a smile.

“We have the re-up.” Sam joked as he took a spot on the floor, pouring vodka into Natasha and Clint’s cups as Steve handed beers to Thor and Loki.

Peter froze and yanked his hand out of Bucky grasp, his fight or flight instincts screaming at him to turn and leave. “I-I shouldn’t…um- I can’t be in here.”

“Wait a second, Peter.” Bucky placed a hand on Peter’s back, stopping him from leaving and guiding him to a spot on the bed beside Natasha. “They have something to say.”

“Yes, we apologize, Parker,” Thor said, tipping his head and raising his plastic red cup. “We were out of line that day.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “My brother and I regret our behavior.”

“Yeah,” Clint nodded. “Same here, Parker.”

“It’s the same for me, Peter.” Natasha placed her hand on Peter’s back. “I hope you can forgive us.”

Peter was baffled. Even in his tipsy haze, he could see how unexpected this was. His eyes wandered across the group; the gentleness in Natasha’s eyes, the seriousness in Clint’s, the lack of spite in Thor and Loki’s. They seemed genuine? It was strange. “Is t-this why you invited me?” He asked, glancing over to Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugged. “These guys wanted a chance to apologize and we-” He gestured to Bucky, Sam, and himself. “-wanted to hang out with you.”

Peter let out a small laugh, feeling less resentment than he thought he would – maybe it was the buzz of alcohol – he nodded, “Okay, yeah, I’ll forgive you.”

“Fantastic,” Natasha smiled and clasped her hands together, “Now, let’s play some games.”

The first drinking game was simple. A word game that punished those who fumbled their answers and Peter was good at it. The unopened can of beer he held onto was proof of that.

The next game was more of the same. Never Have I Ever in a room of people who have done it all. Peter won by saying he never had a threesome, which took out Sam, Bucky, and Steve all at once. It was funny; in fact, it was hilarious. He found himself giggling with Natasha like she wasn’t the girl who would trip him in the halls. He was bantering with Clint like he was never hurt by him before. He was cracking jokes with Thor and Loki like they never teased him. He was comfortable in a room filled with people he thought he hated and he couldn’t help but laugh.

During the third game, Peter drank half his beer, but Steve and Bucky had it far worse.

“Guys, I have to tap out.” Steve groaned, falling back against the bed. “I’m drunk drunk.”

Bucky laughed, his voice slurring as he crawled to lay beside Steve, “If you’re drunk drunk, I’m drunk drunk drunk.”

Steve joined in on the hysterical laughter. “Well, if you’re drunk drunk drunk, then I’m dr-”

“Okay, you’re both pretty,” Sam interrupted with a smirk. “If they’re out, I’m out.”

“That’s fine,” Natasha shrugged, standing from the bed and gesturing for the rest of the group to follow. “Come on, guys, let’s go play some more in the other room.” She grabbed Peter’s hand, guiding him to his feet. “You too.”

And Peter followed them – Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Loki – to another room across the hall; a guest bedroom, perhaps.

“Hey, Parker,” Thor spoke, his voice a bit taut. “Is Stark coming?”

Peter nodded, still fiddling with his half-empty can. “Yes! He said he would meet me here.”

“I see,” Thor nodded as he bumped his elbow into Loki’s side. “Then maybe we shouldn’t play this game tonight.”

“Or maybe you should stop worrying, brother.” Loki snapped.

“What game?” Peter squinted, holding up his beer can. “Another drinking game?”

“Yeah, another drinking game.” Natasha placed her hands atop Peter’s shoulders. “Trust me. You’ll love this one.” She smiled, taking Peter’s can away and placing it against the dresser as she guided him to the closet door. “All you have to do is go in there.”

“What?” Peter scratched his head. “Why?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Again, Natasha smiled. “We’ll explain the rules once you’re in there.”

“O-Okay,” Peter mumbled as he took a step into the closet, letting Natasha close the door behind him. It was a walk-in closet that was dark and empty, save for the few boxes stacked on the top shelves. “Alright, what are the rules?” He yelled through the door, but no response. “Hello?” He yelled, but again, no response. He jiggled the doorknob; locked. “Hey, guys? Are you there?” He knocked on the door this time. Still, no response but he did hear whispering.

Stark is on his way. This is so stupid.

Suck it up, brother. Stark nearly broke my arm.

And he fucking stepped on me.

Sit out if you want, Thor, but we’re doing this.

“Guys, I don’t like this game,” Peter spoke through the door, trying to maintain his calm but his palms became clammy and his fingers started to tremble and dread crept its way up his spine. “Can you guys just let me out?” He bit the inside of his lip. “Please.”

Peter flinched when the door swung open. A glimmer of hope rippled through him but it was quickly overshadowed by the dark expressions on Loki and Clint’s faces. Chills ran through him next as his body screamed, Flight. Now. And he tried running between them, tried slipping through their bodies, tried escaping but he couldn’t. Clint grabbed his arm and yanked him into the closet, holding him still despite his frantic thrashing. Loki taunted him – Serves you right, Parker – the merciless laughter burning Peter’s ears. Natasha played lookout, her smile was replaced with a scowl and her words a spiteful: This is what you get for sicking your dog on us, Peter. It was when Loki punched him that his urge to run morphed into an urge to survive.

This wasn’t the first time Peter’s been beaten up. The first was in middle school when Flash punched him hard enough to break his nose. So, when the punches continued, Peter knew to turn his head with them and relax his jaw. The second time was during a spring break school trip when he was pushed onto the ground and kicked hard enough to fracture a rib. So, when Clint threw him against the carpet and the sting of kicks burned at his sides, he used his arms to shield himself.

Peter learned from these experiences to tuck his head, bring his knees to his stomach, endure. But it hurt; more to his pride than to his body. And the laughter was louder, especially when Peter opened his eyes to see their smug grins searing into him. How could he be so foolish? How could he trust them? How could he forgive them?

When it was over, Peter was crying and no amount of biting his lip could stop it. He clenched his teeth and scrambled to feet, and didn’t bother to look back as he sprinted out the door.

Even in the party-fueled frenzy of the hallway, Peter didn’t stop running. His body buzzed with an intense need to put as much distance between himself and his bullies as he could. His eyes were burning from all the tears. His heart hurt and his mind was filled with flashbacks of every single time he endured their torture.

So Peter ran, and the only thing with the power to stop him was the sturdy chest of Tony Stark.

“Peter?” Tony’s voice cracked, his hands cupping Peter’s tear-stained, bruised cheeks. In the soft glow of the porch light, his eyes were a blend of rage and concern. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

Peter sobbed, clutching his sides where his skin felt the most tender and dropping his head against Tony’s chest. As the tears waterfalled down his cheeks and his frame trembled, he cursed at himself. “I’m such an idiot, Tony. I-I shouldn’t have come. I’m-”

“It’s alright.” Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, surprised when he winced. “I’ll handle it. Just tell me who did this to you.” He brought a soothing hand to Peter’s hair, gently threading through the curls despite the anger quaking through his body. “Please. Just tell me.”

Peter could barely get the names out through the tears, but once he did – a shaky Clint and Loki did it – Tony’s whole body tensed and his expression was overcast by a bloodthirsty cloud. His wild eyes were just as breathtaking, but there was no mischievous grin. Instead, his lips were pressed into a hard line, scowling with the rest of his face as he cracked his knuckles like he was loading a gun. And the way he pulled off that signature jacket and draped it over Peter’s shoulders was more cautious, showing his control even as he walked through his fiery rage. There was no nonchalant quip, no fanfare, just a firm voice saying hold this for me, baby. I’ll be right back.

This time, however, Peter didn’t just stand there. He followed Tony inside, leading him to the room where it all happened, wanting nothing more than to see that notorious violence turned on his cruel bullies.

The collective look of shock was satisfying, but the way Tony gripped Clint’s collar, yanking him to his feet and punching him in the jaw, was even more so. The punches continued; rapid hits to the face that happened within seconds of entering the room. Blood started dripping from Clint’s nose and mouth, and before anyone could say anything, Clint was falling limp against the carpet.

“What the fuck, Stark?!” Natasha screamed, moving to put herself between Clint and Tony, trying to stand up for her partner in crime.

Tony grabbed her by the shirt as well, “Did you hit him?”

“What?” Natasha snapped, struggling against the hold. “Let me go, you fucking psychopath.”

But Tony’s grip only tightened, his eyes conveying a murderous energy. “I said, did you hit him?”

Natasha froze like a deer in headlights, “No.”

“Then stay the fuck out of my way.” Tony spat, pushing Natasha aside and delivering a sharp kick to Clint’s torso before turning his attention to Thor and Loki.

“Don’t bring your violence over here, Stark.” Thor weakly warned, flinching just like before; just like a cornered animal.

“Don’t be afraid of him, brother.” Loki stepped forward between Thor and Tony. “If you touch us again, Stark, then we won’t be so nice to your plaything next time.”

“Next time?” Tony repeated with a balled fist and a menacing expression. “You should worry about your own fucking next time.” Then he continued, grabbing Loki by the collar and landing the same kind of rapid punches he used on Clint. These, however, were focused on Loki’s eyes that swelled and turned dark red as Tony unleashed hell through his fists.

Though, Loki didn’t just take it. Even in his arm sling, he threw his own punches and shoves. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t enough. Tony tackled him to the ground, his onslaught unceasing. That is, until Thor stepped forward to try and stop him.

Peter wouldn’t have guessed that Tony carried a knife. Yet, as Thor moved forward, Tony pulled the butterfly knife from his pocket, flipping it open and pointing it at Thor like a promise, not a threat. It was enough to make the whole room hold their breath.

Except for Peter.

No, Peter knew it was time to intervene. Time to tell Tony to stop. Time to be the limiter. Time to step forward, place his hand over Tony’s, and ease the knife away because it’s okay Tony, let go, give this to me, let me take this.

And the weight of the knife was easier to bear than he thought.

“See, Stark? That’s why you can’t have playthings. They hold you back.” Loki laughed despite the blood dripping from his nose, or the press of Tony’s knee on his torso, or the shocked expression on his brother’s face. “Honestly, what a fucking bitch you are.” Loki taunted.

Break it.

“What?” Tony asked, his eyes flashing to Peter, who didn’t realize he said that aloud.

“I said, break it.”

And the sound that followed was gruesome. A chilling snap from the leverage Tony gained in pushing Loki’s arm backwards across his knee. A clean break, paired with screaming, cursing, and a litany of uncharacteristic tears from a pair of brothers. Then, a coherent threat from a fed-up boy who stutters too frequently. “Touch me again and I’ll have him break the other one.” A promise dipped in venom and punctuated with the tip of the blade poised just inches away from Loki’s face.

This time, Peter knew how to feel.

His eyes traveled to Clint, struggling as Natasha helped him to his feet. It was brutal – Peter knew that – but he was glad. Glad to see that Clint was hurt and Natasha was scared. Excited by the blood and bruises created in payback. Enjoying the scared look in Thor’s eyes and the pain in Loki’s. It was wrong  – he knew that – but he didn’t care. He let himself feel it this time.

Tony took back the knife and pocketed it before taking Peter’s hand in his own. “Let’s get out of here.”

Peter let Tony lead him out of the house and into the car, where they sat in silence for as long as it took Tony to calm himself. It wasn’t awkward or deafening or suffocating, it was just peaceful silence and Peter found solace in it too. A moment to reflect on the dark part of himself that bubbled over amid the alcohol-fueled confidence and the vengeful pain of his assault. A moment to notice he wasn’t crying or trembling. A moment to realize that he threatened Loki; that he chose fight, and it worked.

It was a satisfying moment.

Tony, on the other hand, seemed to take on Peter’s nerves in full. His breath was heavy with sighs and his hands were shaky as he frantically wiped the blood that stained them into the black of his t-shirt. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have- fuck, I did it again. The fucking knife. I- Are you mad? Please don’t be mad.” He dropped his head in his hands. “I couldn’t stop myself. I just- I was so mad seeing you crying and I-  fuck, Pep and Bruce were right about me. I’m-”

“I’m not mad, Tony,” Peter whispered as he reached his hand out to card through Tony’s hair.

“But I-?”

“You fought because I let you fight.”

“But that shouldn’t be your responsibility, Peter. Bruce hated me for that. I can’t-”

“I’m not Bruce.” Peter was firm. “I’m not Pepper either.”

“Peter-”

“Everyone keeps telling me about how violent you are. How you’re this dangerous bad boy that I need to steer clear of, but they’re wrong.” Peter grabbed Tony’s hand, interlocking their fingers. “When I look at you, I see a sweet misunderstood guy who drives me home from school, helps me with my homework and does the dishes after dinner. The guy that sings in his car and worries about his friends. The guy that chooses to use his strength to protect the people he cares about.”

“Peter, that’s nice, but-” Tony paused, inhaling a deep breath. “It doesn’t change the fact that I can never control myself.”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m yours, but you’re mine too. I’ll control you.” Peter squeezed Tony’s hand. “And, yes, breaking someone’s arm is bad – really, really bad,” Peter giggled. “But I’m worse for asking you to do it. I’m worse for liking it.”

“You liked it?” Tony smirked, holding their interlocked hands up so he could press a kiss onto the back of Peter’s hand.

“Y-Yeah, it’s weird.” Peter blushed, averting his gaze. “I’m weird.”

“You’re not weird, baby,” Tony whispered against Peter’s hand. “I liked seeing you too. Seeing you threaten the trash like that,” He smiled, pressing kisses down Peter’s wrist. “Seeing that knife in your cute hands,” His final kiss was wetter. “And seeing that look in your eyes when you did it.”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat, “Um…we s-should- let’s go back to my place.”

“What about your aunt?”

“May is out on a date. She’ll be gone for most of the night.”

~*10*~

When Tony and Peter entered the apartment, the atmosphere between them became torrid. Each interaction heated by the thoughts of what they went there to do. Kicking off their shoes with flushed faces, stripping off their jackets with lingering eye contact, walking down the hall in a suggestive silence. Their already rapid heartbeats ramping into overdrive as they breached the threshold into Peter’s room. The only light pouring from a small lamp on the desk and illuminating their excitement for each other.

Peter was nervous, but Tony was brave. The bad boy sat against the edge of the bed with a tantalizing smile dancing on his lips as he looked Peter up and down like a meal; undressing the younger boy with his eyes like a man starved. He licked the length of his bottom lip and grabbed the hem of his black shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, letting the fabric pool against the floor. “Come here, baby.” He whispered, holding his hand out.

And Peter stepped towards him slowly, taking in the captivating shirtlessness and the unmistakable arousal it caused. He slid his hand into Tony’s, allowing the older boy to pull him closer, guide him to the space between his legs. It was there that Peter’s body buzzed with desire. All of the thoughts whirring through his mind painted over by his lust for Tony Stark.

Tony placed his hands against Peter’s thighs first, dragging upward over the dips of his waist and underneath the bottom of his shirt. Freely dragging his palms across the smooth skin, but stopping when Peter winced.

“S-Sorry,” Peter mumbled, his hands ghosting over his waist. “I’m just- the bruises are still tender, so-”

Tony shook his head, “Don’t apologize.” He whispered, keeping his eyes locked on Peter’s as he pushed the younger’s shirt up and pressed a kiss beneath his belly button. “I’ll be real gentle for you, baby.”

“Tony,” Peter nervously gasped, the simple kiss sending fiery tingles throughout his body.

Tony smiled, one hand caressing the back of Peter’s thigh, the other tugging gently on the fabric of Peter’s shirt. “Can you take this off for me?”

“Okay,” Peter whispered as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, jostling his brown curls as he dropped the shirt against the floor. His creamy skin was splotched in dark bruises that ran down his arms and sides. And with once glance at himself, he gave a quiet laugh, “It looks worse than it feels, I swear.”

Tony’s expression turned somber, “I’m sorry for not being there.” He said, pressing more gentle kisses against Peter’s navel, carefully outlining one of the bruises.

“It’s okay, Tony,” Peter placed his hands in Tony’s hair, dragging his fingertips to the nape of his neck and leaving them resting on his shoulders. “Don’t apologize.” He smiled, his face a rosy pink as he lifted his knee, swinging it across Tony’s lap and sliding downward. “Can we- um… kiss again?”

As Peter straddled him, Tony inhaled sharp because he could feel the brush of Peter’s zipper against his own. He wrapped his arms loosely around Peter’s waist, dipping one of his hands in the younger’s back pocket and positioning the other on the side of Peter’s thigh. “Yeah,” He breathed out as he eagerly leaned forward, pressing their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

Peter moaned into it, dropping his weight until the space between their chests was nonexistent. His hands naturally threaded into Tony’s hair and his eyes fluttered closed as he succumbed to Tony’s practiced kissing. Letting the older boy’s tongue dip into his mouth; letting his teeth softly pull at his bottom lip. The moment felt electric, especially when Tony’s hand moved up his thigh, cautiously skimming across the tender bruises and stopping against his nipple, rolling it beneath his fingertips.

Goosebumps rushed across Peter’s skin at the touch. He inched back, breaking the kiss and staring down at Tony’s hand like it was magic. “That feels different when you do it.”

“When I do it, hm?” Tony flicked the soft nub, watching with a playful grin as Peter flinched. “You touch yourself here, baby?”

Peter nodded, his hands gripping at Tony’s shoulders as the pleasure pooled, causing his erection to stiffen painfully under the restrictive denim.

Tony scoffed as he pinched at the nipple hard enough to pull a surprised gasp from the younger boy. “Use your words, baby.”

“T-That’s not fair,” Peter dropped his head against Tony’s shoulder, hiding his surely red face. “You said you’d be gentle.”

“That was gentle, sweetheart.” Tony pressed a kiss against Peter’s neck. “I could’ve been much rougher.”

“Rougher than that?”

“So much rougher than that,” Tony whispered against Peter’s ear.

Peter shivered and turned his head to whisper back, a low and fervid, “Can you show me?”

And without warning, Tony clutched the underside of Peter’s thighs and stood, lifting the younger boy, who gasped in surprise and reactively locked his legs around Tony’s waist. Then, Tony turned and slowly lowered Peter against the sheets, positioning himself between Peter’s spread legs. “Let’s start by getting rid of these.” He said as he popped open the button and zipper and tugged, pulling the jeans and boxers together.

“B-Both?” Peter’s eyes when wide and his hands shot down to cover his now freed erection.

“Yes, both.” Tony gave a soft laugh as he finished pulling the clothes off, tossing them aside. “Move your hands, baby. Let me look at you.” And Tony watched intently as Peter moved his hands away. He watched as Peter’s chest flushed just like his face does. Watched the cute way Peter’s erection twitched in the open air. It was a fucking mouth-watering sight.

As for Peter, his mind brimmed with want, and nerves, and Tony. This was his first time being completely bare in front of someone else; someone whose half-lidded eyes were intense with longing and whose fingers were making their way to his mouth.

“Open,” Tony commanded and Peter obliged, parting his lips and letting the older boy’s fingers slide into his mouth. “Good, now suck.”

And Peter did; closing his lips and sucking, massaging the pad of his tongue against the two digits. He tried to keep his eyes trained on Tony’s but sometimes they would wander downward, across the contour of the older boy’s muscles and – fuck – suddenly, Tony’s fingers pushed deeper, probing the back of his throat, making him cough.

Peter’s hands shot up, pulling Tony’s fingers from his mouth. “W-What are you doing?”

“Showing you how deep I want to shove my dick.” Tony grinned as he nudged his wet fingers against the head of Peter’s erection, mixing the saliva and pre-cum before smearing them down the shaft. “That okay, baby?”

Peter breathed a harsh, “Y-Yes.” A wave of pleasure rocking through his body at the touch. His hips jolting upward and his head lolling back against the pillow, moaning as Tony began his torturously slow strokes.

“You look so fucking hot, Peter,” Tony whispered, leaning down to lick Peter’s nipple; kiss it, roll it between his teeth. “Looking like you’re about to come when I’m barely touching you.”

Tony’s compliment went right to Peter’s head, adding to the pleasure tightening at his core. If he was honest, Tony was right. Alone, he usually got there fast but, with Tony, he was getting there at light-speed. Already teetering on his edge from the blend of sensations. He was one quick stroke away from spilling all over, so he moaned a shaky, “I am.”

And nothing prepared him for the abrupt lack of touch and the intense desire it left in its wake. Peter’s hips flinched upward, chasing Tony’s hand as it pulled away, leaving him in a needy haze. “What- why did- no, Tony, I was there- I-”

“I know, baby,” Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “But you don’t get to come until I say so.”

Peter whined, pouting up at the older boy, with distressed and horny eyes, “Can you say so now?”

“Fuck, you’re so cute,” Tony smiled and sat up, shifting his weight to his knees. “But not yet, sweetheart.” He whispered as he undid his jeans. His toned body flexing in the dim light as he pushed his jeans and boxers down slightly, freeing his hardened length and nudging it against Peter’s.

Peter had to actively prevent his jaw from dropping. Tony’s dick was big – actually, bigger – it made Peter’s length seem small. It even felt different; it was thicker, harder and, maybe his feelings and arousal created bias, but to Peter, Tony’s dick was fucking perfect. A shiver ran through his body at the thought of it in his mouth.

“Having fun?” Tony interrupted and Peter froze, blushing when he realized that he’d been grinding his hips up, desperately rubbing their dicks together from the moment they touched.

“I- um.. s-sorry, I-” Peter stammered, bringing his hands up to hide his embarrassed expression.

“You, what?” Tony laughed quietly, ghosting his hands across Peter’s thighs. “Speak up, baby.”

“I- I just- I wanted to touch it,” Peter muttered through his hands.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m going to let you touch it all you want.”

Then, Tony repositioned them. He stood and guided Peter to lay with his head tipped backward off the edge of the bed. The bed’s height was ideal for this, he thought, as he aligned the head of his erection with Peter’s lips. “Open,” Tony commanded but, this time, Peter hesitated.

“Tony, I’ve never- Just- go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony nodded, gently brushing his fingers against Peter’s cheek. “I’ve got you, baby.” He smiled when Peter parted his lips, “Good, now take a nice deep breath for me.”

And Peter did; inhaled deep as Tony pushed forward, pressing his dick into Peter’s mouth until it couldn’t go any deeper. Peter gripped at the sheets and squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the pleasured groans that fell from Tony’s mouth. And even though Peter was struggling to hold his breath, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

Tony pulled out slow – a string of saliva connecting the head of his dick to Peter’s lips, dripping against Peter’s face. “Breathe,” He whispered and watched Peter’s chest expand before pushing forward again. This time, he went even deeper, pushing passed the back of Peter’s mouth, causing a small bulge to show through his neck.

Peter coughed, his drool spurting out around Tony’s dick as he reactively pushed Tony’s hips away. He gasped and coughed again, turning his head to let the excess saliva drop against the floor.

“You okay?” Tony asked, dragging his hands through Peter’s hair. “Was that too much?”

“No,” Peter turned his head back. “I want it harder.”

Tony’s breath hitched, “Yeah?” He squeezed his hand, grabbing a tight handful of Peter’s curls, making the younger boy whine. “You want it harder, baby?”

As Peter opened his mouth to answer, Tony was pushing forward again, quicker than before, plunging deep enough to see the shape of his dick in the contours of Peter’s neck. And he held himself there, indulging in the pleasure of the younger’s fluttering throat, before pulling out half-way and pushing back in. He repeated this in quick succession, occasionally pulling out fully so Peter could catch his breath.

“This hard enough for you, sweetheart?” Tony teased, keeping his dick plunged inside so all Peter could do was moan around it.

And Peter loved it. The feeling of being used and the sounds of Tony’s ecstasy. He thought it would be difficult – controlling his breath while having a dick shoved down his throat – but once he fell into a rhythm, it was easy. And, soon, Tony’s dick was at its thickest, pulsating and leaking pre-cum. His orgasm was close and the way he talked about it made Peter feel hornier than he has in his entire life.

“I’m going to come all over you, baby. You want that, hm? God, you’re so fucking perfect, Peter. Look at how well you’re taking me. You’re so good, baby boy. Fuck, keep your mouth open for me-”

Tony pulled out as he came, groaning deep and shooting lines of cum against Peter’s open mouth and chest. And Peter’s never tasted cum before but he swallowed it like it was nothing, his throbbing arousal completely overshadowing the gravity of the situation.

“Tony, me too. Please.”

“Of course, baby.” Tony smiled, shifting their positions so Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed and Tony was on his knees between Peter’s thighs.

Peter’s whole body shook when Tony started sucking. The pleasure hitting him like it was a tsunami and he was the beach. The way Tony dragged his tongue against the underside of the shaft made Peter’s nerve endings tingle with fiery sparks of euphoria. And when Tony bobbed his head low enough to take it all, Peter swore he fell into delirium. “Tony, I’ll come- I’ll- I’m-!”

Yet, just as Peter took a step towards orgasm, Tony stopped. He gripped at the base of Peter’s length, viciously yanking him back to the edge, preventing his climax for the second time that night. But before Peter had time to complain, Tony was pulling him down and pinning him against the side of the bed.

Tony stared into Peter’s eyes and started stroking again, “Go ahead, baby, you can come.”

Peter immediately averted his gaze, unable to handle the embarrassment of suddenly being so close. “But Tony, I-”

Tony scoffed and lifted his idle hand to the underside of Peter’s jaw, forcing the younger’s eyes back to his. “It wasn’t a question, baby.” He whispered, squeezing his fingers against the sides of Peter’s throat, “I told you to come.”

So Peter came; a breathless scream falling from his lips as a tremor shook his body and his cum oozed all over Tony’s hand. It was an overwhelming pleasure – nothing like anything he’s felt on his own. And as he floated down from his sweltering high, Tony released his throat and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah, that was amazing.

“Yeah.”

And for a while, they stayed there, bodies pressed together in a content embrace, sticky from their passion and audibly panting from their ardor, but content nonetheless. Basking in the feeling of their intimate moment; an exchange of sweet nothings, a soothing caress, a medley of soft giggles. A litany of playful kisses, a cascade of fingertips carded through messy hair, a breathtaking empathetic chemistry. All topped with promises of tomorrow and the days after, where they belonged to each other.

-

The relief I felt after finishing this is insurmountable. Apologies for being a flaky hoe, but I hope you all enjoyed the read. Leave me a comment or feel free to hop in my asks. Let me know how I did. 

Shout out to my muses: @ultimatelyshippingthegays @benhardysdrumstick ❤️

Thank you for the amazing ideas. A bitch did her best. Love you all!

EDIT: Read the sequel here.

[sierraraeck]

Cleansing (Pt.1)

Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

If you are triggered by talk of sexual abuse and have not read how I have set up this fic, please do so. You can still read it without that content, just click here.

(This is my gif so please give credit if used)

Summary: Spencer needs help dealing with his dealer. Both of them are required to take two weeks off and they decide to spend those two weeks together. Things get hot and messy and emotional. There’s a lot going on. Story nine.

Category: Some angst, some fluff, some steam, some smut.

Warnings: Cussing. Drugs. Mentions of drug abuse. Shots fired. Discussion of prior sexual abuse. Oral (both receiving), penetrative (unprotected), fingering, creampie.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is my first time writing smut. Forgive me if it’s bad and I’d love to hear your feedback. Also, I know injuries don’t heal that fast but we are just going to ignore it.

Side note: Somewhere in here I hit 50k words of fanfic.

About a week or so after Spencer and I talked about our problems, the rest of the team figured it out. Or at least I assumed the rest of the team figured it out because Hotch figured it out. Well, all of it except the kiss. That no one knew about. And things would have been fine and we would have continued going to work as usual if Reid had just listened to me. But no, instead, he made a poor decision that led to us both taking a required two weeks off.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

A knock sounded at my door. I got up to check who it was through the peephole and saw that it was none other than Spencer Reid.

“Hey Doctor Genius,” I said as I opened the door to let him in. It had been two days since he’d confronted me and slept over. “What’s up?”

There was terror in his eyes, “I need your help.”

“Of course. What’s going on?” My own eyes got wider at his apparent panic.

“The guy I’m getting the drugs from. He’s threatening me,” he said. I slowly nodded.

“Threatening to what? It’s very common for dealers to threaten certain things, especially if you are late on payment. Are you in debt?” I asked.

“No, no, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

He hesitated.

“Spencer, what?”

“I’m friends with someone who lives in the apartment complex he makes me meet him at. He’s telling me that if I don’t pay him extra, or get him information on the bureau, he is going to go in there and kill them, then expose me to the FBI,” his voice had dropped to a whisper and he sounded out of breath.

“Holy shit. How’d he find this out? Do you visit this friend often?”

“No. I’ve actually never been to the apartment complex until he made me meet him there,” Spencer said.

“What? So how does he know they live there if you’ve never visited them?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think he could be bluffing?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t think I can take that chance.”

I let out a huge sigh, realizing that I hadn’t exactly been breathing for the past couple of minutes. “Who’s your dealer?”

“He calls himself Koda.”

“Koda?” I confirmed, “As in, Dakoda?”

“I’d assume so,” Reid said, nodding.

“Shit!” Koda was one of the old Cloak members that I cut when making the switch to my underground ring. He didn’t go easily, and vowed that I would regret that decision. I’d caught wind that he was doing pretty well for himself right before I went to prison, and by now he was one of the most well known drug runners in the northeast.

“What? Why is that a problem?” the panic was rising in his voice.

“It’s nothing. I’ll handle it,” I said, already heading toward the door.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that this is bad, but I’m going to handle it,” I hissed.

“I’m coming with you.”

I rapidly turned to face him. “No. You’re not.”

“Yes I am. And you can’t stop me.”

“You wanna bet?” This was a situation Reid was way too close to and way too underprepared for, and I couldn’t afford having him get in more trouble than he already was. He needed to stay behind.

“Please. I got myself and my friend into this mess. Let me help get us out,” his eyes were pleading.

“Who is this friend anyway?” He just looked at me, mouth agape. He was struggling to find the right words. “Forget it. But if I’m going to be sticking my neck out for this person, they better be worth it.” I shot my eyebrows up at him.

“They are,” he quickly confirmed.

I exited my apartement, Spencer on my heels. I shut and locked my door and turned to head down the stairs. When we reached the bottom I turned to him.

“I have one rule. You let me handle this my way, and when I tell you to do something, you do it. Got it?”

“Got it.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

We reached a payphone, one that Spencer directed me to, and I unlocked the car doors to let him out.

“You make the call like you would any other. You need to meet at the usual spot and act as natural as possible,” I reminded him. He nodded and got out of the car, half speed walking, half jogging to the phone. The call only took a minute or so, and he bounced back into the passenger seat.

“How long?”

“20 minutes.” I nodded. I drove us over to the apartment complex, paying more attention now that I knew there was someone he cared about inside. Or at least he thought lived inside. We sat in the parking lot in silence, waiting for the 20 minutes to be over.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head, “I’m so stupid.”

“Reid, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t know any better. I’m just glad you came to me when you did,” I said. Yes, I was pissed that this was happening but he wasn’t to blame. He didn’t know the ins and outs of how these things worked in real time, and when it got too hard he was smart enough to ask for help instead of letting it get even messier.

The 20 minutes were up. I saw Koda peek his head out from behind the building, but no new cars had shown up. Good. He’s on foot. Which also probably means he’s alone.

“Stay here,” I said, leaving the car before Reid could protest. I reached a hand behind me, just to make sure I still had my gun, then walked confidently to the back of the complex.

When I turned the corner, Koda was grinning at me.

“Ah, Aundreya! It’s about time you showed up!”

“How’ve you been, Koda?” I indulged him.

“Oh, don’t pretend you care. We both know you’re only here to save your little pet,” he said, eyes getting bigger in excitement.

“So, how’d you know I was going to be here?”

“Please, you’re fucking everywhere! I knew you’d show up eventually. You always do.” His face looked sour.

“True. You know how much I enjoy raining on your pity parades,” I taunted.

“I do. It must hurt no longer having that amusement.”

“Not really. I, too, have moved on to bigger and better things. I don’t care if you're some hot-shot runner. You’re still just a runner,” I said, clicking my tongue and shaking my head.

“Yeah, and you of all people, are now just another one of the government’s bitches,” he said, mirroring my gestures.

“Look, I’m not here to talk about our differences in life choices. I’m just here so you know to stay the hell away from my … pet, as you so graciously put it.”

“Yeah, pass. He owes me, and I’m going to get as much bang for my buck outta this one. You understand,” he said with a wink.

I scowled and cocked my head to the side. “See, that’s the thing. I wasn’t asking.”

“You don’t control me. If you wanted to, you should have thought about that six years ago.”

I rolled my eyes and my tone was demeaning. “Still on that, huh? You have got to get over it. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, but you just weren’t good enough back then.”

“Yeah, back then. I’m definitely good enough now. Your loss.”

“If that’s what you need to hear,” I said. We stared each other down.

“But to get back to the point, I’m not going to leave your boy alone.”

“Yes. You are.”

“Or what?”

I smiled. I was hoping he would ask that. Before he could blink, I had his right forearm in my left hand, stepping my right leg behind his back. With my right hand on his side, I swiftly threw his entire body weight over my hip, and he hit the pavement with a thud, knocking the wind out of him. I held onto his right arm, now taking it in both hands, and put my foot down on his shoulder. I yanked his arm as hard as I could away from his body and he let out a screech.

I bent over so I was closer to his face. “Or next time, I won’t stop here.”

I released his arm and watched it drop right next to his scrunched up face. When I turned around, Spencer’s jaw was on the ground.

He wasn’t supposed to see that.

“What the hell!” I snarled. “I had one rule!”

He was stunned, his eyes glued to Koda, so I just grabbed his arm and yanked him down the alley that led back to my car.

“Hey, Aundreya!” I turned around to face the direction of the voice. Time moved in slow motion as I comprehended Koda aiming his gun at us. With my left hand, I went to pull Spencer behind me and with my right, I reached behind me to pull out my own gun.

Two shots rang out, one quickly followed by the other, as both men collapsed.

“Spencer!” I yelled, turning to him. He was on his knees and I sunk to mine. Both of his hands were clutching his right side, just under his ribcage.

“I’m okay,” he got out between shaky breaths. I called 911.

“Spencer, you’re going to be fine, the paramedics are on their way,” I assured.

He nodded his head in Koda’s direction. “What about him?”

Only then did I remember that there was someone else in the equation. I didn’t have to look to know that he was dead, but I checked anyway. I’d hit him right between the eyes. “He’s gone.”

I rushed back to Spencer and I cradled his head as more and more blood soaked his shirt. It started to seep through his hands so I placed one of mine on top, trying to apply as much pressure as I could.

“Where are they, dammit!” How could the ambulance be so slow?

“You know … the average ambulance response time … is approximately … nine minutes … and twenty-four seconds…” he tried through labored breaths.

“Shh. Don’t talk. I’ve got you,” I said. The blood flow wasn’t slowing down any time soon, so I removed my hands from him momentarily to take off my jacket, followed by my t-shirt.

“What are you-”

“Sh. I said no talking.” I ripped my shirt into strips, trying to make as many as possible that would also get the job done. “Move your hands.”

He obeyed and I quickly wrapped each one around his body, tying knots above and on top of his wound. I ended up getting five strips out of my t-shirt which wasn’t bad. I shuffled behind him and wrapped my arms around him like a sixth layer, pressing both of my hands on his side. I helped him lean back so that his head was resting on my shoulder. Shortly after, he added his hands on top of mine, both of us working hard to preserve as much blood as we could. We were frozen together, completely unmoving, both of us focused on his breathing.

Seven minutes later, the paramedics finally arrived.

“Miss, we are going to have to ask you to move aside,” they told me. But I couldn’t. I was firmly planted where I was, unable to force myself out of the way. “Miss?”

Spencer tilted his head slightly to look up at me. He attempted a small smile and nodded. “It’s okay. They’ve got me.”

I nodded at him, then the paramedics, and reluctantly gave up my spot behind him so they could help him. I winced when I saw them hoist him onto a stretcher and load him into the ambulance.

I had tunnel vision focused on Reid.

“Miss?” I jumped. “Is this yours?”

A young, blonde haired man was holding up my jacket. “Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks.”

“You did a great job. Those knots saved him a lot of blood.”

“Thanks,” I repeated. He smiled at me and placed a quick hand on my shoulder before getting into the other ambulance that had Koda’s body covered with a white sheet.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When I arrived at the hospital, the rest of the team had beat me there. I called them before I got into the car, following the second ambulance.

“Oh my god! What happened?” Penelope asked. She already had tears in her eyes.

“This guy was threatening Reid, so I went to talk to him about it, and he pulled his gun on us,” I quickly explained. They didn’t have to know about the drugs.

“Jeez,” JJ said, putting her hands on her head in distress. “Threatening him with what?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Just asking for information about the FBI or something.” It wasn’t my place to answer questions regarding Reid’s friend. I wasn’t 100% sure what he did and didn’t want them to know, so I tried to be as vague as possible, while also providing bits of the truth.

“How about you? Are you okay?” Emily asked. I surveyed myself and realized I looked a lot worse than I’d thought. I had slipped on my jacket before entering the hospital, but I neglected to zip it up because everything was so frantic. I had blood all over my jacket and my exposed stomach and bra. I had a few stains on my pants as well, but the worst of it was on my hands. I could tell my hair was ratted because I kept pushing it out of my face as a nervous habit. Which meant there was most likely blood in it as well.

“Uh, yeah. I’m better than I look,” I lied. I wasn’t injured, but I definitely felt like shit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Emily said, placing a soft hand on my back, guiding me toward the bathroom.

I nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”

I was able to wash off the blood on my hands and stomach, I even put my head under the faucet to clean my hair, but my clothes were a totally different story. I didn’t have any extras, so I was forced to stay in them. I returned to the waiting area with wet hair, clean skin, and my bloodied jacket, now zipped up over my bloody bra. I sat down next to Derek and across from Aaron, Emily opting to stand behind me.

“Do you think you can answer some questions?” Hotch asked.

“Yeah. For sure.”

“Where did this happen?”

“It was behind an old apartment complex off of Revered.��

“Who were you meeting?”

“Some guy, he called himself Koda.”

“Why were you going to meet him?”

“All Reid told me was that this guy was threatening him and he needed my help. I went to talk to him, just to scare him a little. He was clearly a street rat so I knew he’d know who I am.”

“Did he show up alone?”

“Yes.”

“Did you show up alone?”

“Yes. I told Spencer to stay in the car.”

“What did you say to Koda?”

“I told him to back off, he challenged that, so I tossed him on the ground, dislocated his shoulder, and told him that if he didn’t quit messing with Reid, I wouldn’t stop next time.”

Everyone on the team knew that I could be ruthless, but each time it got explicitly pointed out, I could feel the slight tension radiating from them. I learned that part of that was rage in support of me and part of that was some other mixture of emotions against me.

“Then what?”

“Then I turned around and Reid was standing there. He wasn’t supposed to be there. I’d told him to stay in the car, I made him promise me to stay in the car. But he was there, so I tried to get us both back to the car quickly. Koda said something so I turned around, and he had drawn his gun. I reached for mine as I pulled Reid behind me. I shot Koda but not quickly enough because the next thing I knew, Reid was collapsing behind me.” Tears started welling up in my eyes at the vivid memory, the gut-wrenching feeling of panic, but I willed them not to spill over.

“What did you do then?”

“I saw that the bullet had hit him in the side and called 911. Spencer asked me about Koda, so I checked to see if he was dead and he was. I tried to apply pressure to his wound with my hands, and that’s when he informed me that it would probably take the ambulance ten minutes to arrive so I knew I had to do something else. I ripped my shirt into strips and knotted them around him, trying to stop the bleeding. It helped, but he started to bleed through onto our hands. That’s when the paramedics showed up and then we were here,” I concluded. They were all nodding at my words, gentleness in their eyes.

The doctor came out, so we all stood up, practically swarming her. “Doctor Reid is going to be fine,” we all let out a collective sigh of relief, “The bullet grazed his right side and slightly fractured his lower rib. He lost a lot of blood and we had to give him pretty extensive stitches, but he is going to be fine. He will need to be hooked up to his IV over night and put in a brace for the next couple of weeks. You can see him if you want.”

We all pushed by her, nearly tripping over each other, in order to get to his room as fast as we could. He was laying down in the hospital bed, an IV attached to his arm. He smiled at us.

“Hey guys,” he croaked. He tried to sit up but winced and laid back down.

“Hey pretty boy,” Morgan said. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible actually. How are you?” he asked, directing his attention at me.

“Well, I’m not the one in the hospital bed,” I countered.

“You always say things like that. For real,” he pleaded.

“I’m fine, rattled at most. Doing a lot better now that I know your dumbass is okay,” I said raising my eyebrows. “Why’d you do that?”

“I was worried when you hadn’t come back after a few minutes. Then I heard screaming and I had to come check on you,” he replied.

“You should have listened to me, I would have been fine. Your first instinct needs to be self preservation.”

“That’s not your first instinct,” he accused.

“Yes it is,” I defended.

“It may have been at one point, but it isn’t any more. Otherwise you wouldn’t have helped me to begin with,” he argued.

“Well there are more important people in my life now than just myself.” I looked around at the people standing in that room with me, and I was glad, and honestly relieved, that it was true.

“Aww, how sweet of you! I knew you secretly cared about me!” Morgan teased, giving me a gentle nudge.

“Oh get over yourself,” I rolled my eyes, nudging him back. I looked back at Spencer who was giving me those doe eyes. “Please, just never do that again. That goes for all of you. I don’t ever wanna see anyone else in a hospital bed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Prentiss said with a smile.

“Agreed,” Spencer said.

“I hate to break this up, but Aundreya, can I talk to you for a moment?” Hotch asked.

“Sure.” I followed him out into the hallway. “What’s going on?”

“I told the police the events you recounted to me and because it was self-defense, they are going to let you off. Of course, they are required to ask Reid a series of similar questions, corroborating your story, but you should be in the clear.” I nodded. That was good news, but there was something else. “However, because this wasn’t related to a case we were working on, I’m going to suspend you for two weeks.” There it was.

“Why?”

“A few reasons. What you went through is traumatic, you’ve been working really hard lately, and it would be good for Reid to have someone with him while he recovers. It would be good for both of you. So take the full two weeks and I don’t want to see you back before then,” he gave me a stern look that asked if I understood.

“Okay.”

He turned to walk back into Spencer’s room but quickly added, “And do everyone a favor by getting yourself and Reid clean during this time off.”

Part 2

Taglist (open)

@justanothetfangirl

[thespamman24]

Some people say that brevity is the soul of wit, but to that I say:

You are wrong, you are extremely wrong, you’re so wrong if you were any more wrong the universe would explode with how wrong you are, I have never seen someone be any more wrong in my entire life. If I had a nickel for how wrong this was I would have an infinite amount of nickels because the wrongness of that extraordinary dumb statement is inifnite. I have spent over 16 years on this hellscape of a planet, and in all of that time I have not once heard something, so wrong, so dumb, so extremely removed from reality. The wrongness of the statement that you have said is at such an extreme level it boggles the mind. You’re so wrong I don’t even know what to do. That statement that you have just said, literally every single letter of every single word in it is wrong. And I used the word literally correctly. That is because I am a person who is correct as opposed to you, a person who is wrong. Capital W-R-O-N-M-J wrong. I mean, I didn’t even know a person could be that wrong. Like 100% of what you just said is wrong. Like, I mean for someone to think that is right, that must mean that they have an IQ below zero. You have an IQ below zero. Because you have said this dumb-ass, idiotic, rediculouse, insane, idiotic, putrid, idiotic, rediculouse, idiotic, idiotic, WRO-ONG, statement. I mean like, what is in your brain? Is it just a bunch of lukewarm water that just sloshes around? Is that what goes on in your brain? Is it just slosh, slosh, slosh, slosh, slosh all day? Just a bunch of lukewarm going sloshity, sloshity, slosh. I mean like, that’s the only logical explanation because what you have said is so goddamn wrong! I mean, like what school did you go to? The Isaac Newton school of being WRONG! Because you are so wrong! I mean, do you even have thoughts?!!?!?!? Or is it just the lukewarm water in your brain going spilishity slapishity sploshity all day long? HUUUUUUUUUuuuuUUUUHHHhhhhhHHH??????  You disgust me, you know that. Because you’re just sto wrong. You know, wrongness doesn’t usually actually piss me off. But this, but this, but this, but this, oh boy, oh boy, old buddy, old boy, does this piss me off! This pisses me right the f*** off!!!!!!!! You are just so gosh dam wrong!!!! What you have said is astronomically wrong! The wrongness of it is off the charts! Off the chains! Over 9000! Numbers can not calculate how wrong you are, there are no words in the english language which I can use to articulate, how wrong you are! I mean just the pure rotten, rotten, festid, rotten wrongness if the claim that you have just made to me- is disgusting. Just disgusting. I hope you die in a hole, you dumb little dumb little big dumb wrong slut!!!!!!! You are so wrong, that just reading that claim that you have just made makes my brain hurt. My brain cells are slowly dying one by one. You have killed them!! Killed them!!!! WIth your filthy, putrid wrongness!!!!! You sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, wrong bastard of a wrong person. Your wrongness has given me a migraine and I don’t think that it’ll ever end, I think I’ve been cursed, cursed to forever bear the shame of your wrongness, because you are just so wrong!!!!!!!!!!!!! I mean, I don’t think the human brain can even fathom how wrong you are. Maybe, your statement is just so wrong, that the human brain can’t even comprehend. Maybe it’s one of those things, like infinity, or quantum physics, or the plot of Lost, where our brains just can;t understand it because it’s just so fucking wrooooooooooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnggggggggggggggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WRONG! SO FCKING WROOOOOOONGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!

god, oh god, oh god why, why must you do this to me, you- you’ve hurt me. I can’t stand it any more… just this… this… wrong… it’s just so wrong… so wrong… so wrong. How can you be so stupid. Your statement is dumb, your logic is dumb, your reasoning is dumb. I hope you never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever give birth!!!!! I… I don’t think I… I even want to live anymore… how can I even exist… on a planet where such wrongness… also exists...how, how, how, how, HHHHHHOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!! WHY OH WHY GOD WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!! YOU WILL, AND ALWAYS SHALL BE SO, FRICKING WRONG!!!!!!!! Your wrongness, the magnitude of it, it, it, it just astounds me. Nothing, anybody ever says, will be so WRONG AS THE WORDS THAT YOU HAVE SAID TO ME!!!!!!!! YOU DUMB LITTLE POOR EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING!!!!!!!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!! I DON’T LIKE YOU!!!!!!!!!! I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!! I’M NOT INVITING YOU TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU’LL NEVER HAVE ANY PIECES OF MY BIRTHDAY CAKE!!!!!!!!!!!! IT’S MINE! ALLLLL MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MWA, HA, HA,HA,HA,HA,Ha,Ha…. Ha… ha… ha… ha… ha. Oooohhh… woe is me. For I have been cursed with this wrongness. You know Shakespeare once said, “When we are born we weep, for we have come to this great world of fools.” You know, Shakespeare, he was gay, but he was also right… and today… I weep… I weep a thousand tears for this wrongness that has befell my eyes and blinded them, oh god I wish I could stick a hand into my brain and remove this filth and pestilence that infects it like a disease. Your words poison the air they are spoken into!!!!!!!!! The pits of hell themselves don’t even know such agony as the pits of despair I am currently drowning in!!!!!!!! I hope to never see the sunlight again, because if I do it would give me a sunburn! I hope aliens never see what you have just written because if they do, will, then they would, they would they would burn our planet to the crisp and then salt the earth so that nothing ever, ever, ever, ever grows again and then they incinerate our planet to the core!!!! And then they would flush it down a toilet that is big enough to fit the earth in!!!!!! You are wrong… so wrong. You are in fact, one hundred percent wrong. It honestly makes me sick. Just how wrong you are. I could on and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on about how gosh damn wrong you are but I won’t because it would take a thousand lifetimes to do so and I need to feed my cat!!! DO YOU HEAR ME!!!!!!!!! MY CAT!!!!!!!!!! SHE IS A GOOD, GOOD,GOOD, KITTY AND SHE IS SMARTER THAN YOU CAN EVER HOPE TO BE!!!!!!!! BECAUSE EVEN SHE, AGREES WITH ME THAT YOU ARE WRONG HELL, EVEN A POTATOE CAN SEE WHY YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!!! EVEN A POTATOE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A POPTATO, A POTATO, A POTATO, A POTATO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE DUMBER THAN A POTATO, BECAUSE YOU ARE SO, SO,SO,SO,SO,SO,SO,SO, FUCKING WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!!!!! WRONG!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!! INCORRECT!!!!!!!!!! UNTRUE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MISTAKES!!!!!!!!!! ERRONEOUS!!!!!!!!!! UNTRUE!!!!!!!!!!! INACCURATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! INVALID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FALLICIOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!! FALSE!!!!!!!! WIDE OF THE MARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! … my life is but a nightmare. A dream which I can not wake up from. I am trapped, trapped in this prison known as the universe, a prison of which I can not escape, my memories are like chains binding me down, preventing me from, moving, from running, from trying to break free!!!!!!! All I can do is scream at the top of my lungs about how wrong you are… but I won’t because I’ve already done that and my voice is very tired and I don’t want to get laryngitis, because herbal tea is surprisingly expensive… I think I’ll go feed my cat now.