#I hope you guys can read my crappy phone screen writing

[happy-tree-friends-imagines]

Hey, I got some characters for the character bingo! Sniffles, Nutty, Flippy, The mole, lumpy, and ice bear! Sorry if that’s too many characters!

Hello! Sorry for the late reply, but here’s my answers for you. I was close to getting a bingo but didn’t quite make it ^^;

If you have any other characters for the bingo send them my way! (Also if you want me to continue off this board or start fresh is up to you!)

#anon ask #character bingo #happy tree friends imagines #bingo #htf imagines #send anons #send an ask #just for fun #I hope you guys can read my crappy phone screen writing

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Do Us Part

Warnings: nonconsent and rape; oral, fingering, marital discord, cheating, spousal arguments and mental/emotional abuse, age gap (Peter is 24/25 and reader is 35/36)

This is dark!Peter Parker x 30s/’older’ reader and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find it hard to accept that not all good things last as you face the changes in your marriage, yourself, and your marriage.

Note: I wanted to write Peter again but also I’ve seen this nonsense about how 30+ writers are too old for fanfic which is dumb af. And I wanted to turn the age gap trope a little so that it wasn’t the reader being the younger one in the relationship. I label it older reader but I don’t think being in your 30s is old tbh (my bf is 36 so pfft). It was all just a conglomeration of circumstances that inspired a deceivingly sweet dark Peter and I hope you like it. Also it’s 7.4k so a bit of a longer read.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You walked slowly along the transparent shelves set into the pristine white walls of the cosmetics section. The department store was a haze of distant voices and the chirp of scanners as customers milled the aisles and waited their turn to check out. You whiled away your time looking at things you’d never buy as you waited for your husband to return from the men’s department.

You thought of the sparse make-up bag under your sink and the liners and shades you hadn’t used in years. They were likely expired and better tossed in the bin. You hovered along the crystal bottle of designer scents and stopped to test a particular blush-tinted fragrance.

You set the bottle back and peered over at the dark cubbies that housed the men’s scent. Even from there, you could catch a whiff of the heady scents as a younger man with reddish brown hair examined an angular vial of Dior Men. You suddenly felt out of place; a mid-thirties woman in her out-of-season clothes fantasizing about overpriced perfume.

Your husband's voice further cemented your reality as you fingered the golden cap of the Coach eau du parfum. Wesley rolled his eyes and flipped up the little plastic panel that hid the bold prices and huffed.

“I hope you don’t think I’m gonna pay for that shit,” he sneered, “what have you been doing? I was waiting for you.”

He waved a plastic bag as his lip curled and you pressed your mouth shut tightly and swallowed. The day began with another argument as he discovered the seared hole in his shirt and instead of blaming the crappy old dryer, he blamed you. Most of your clothes had been chewed up by the thing but you never complained.

“No, I was just… looking,” you teetered in your flats and glanced around. The young man at the corner display quickly turned to hide his nosy observation, “did you find some new shirts?”

“No thanks to you,” he sniffed.

“Oh,” you played with the hem of your tee and tucked your hands into your pockets nervously. You’d left him to look alone as you only seemed to irritate him and rarely took your advice on matters of clothing, “well, I thought I’d give you some space--”

“Stop acting so pathetic. Start taking responsibility for yourself. For god’s sake, you're almost thirty-six and you don’t know how to hang a shirt to dry?” He spun on his heel and snapped over his shoulder, “let’s go.”

You flinched but followed behind him as he strode away and you stumbled out behind him through the automatic doors. He tossed the bag into the back seat and slammed the door before flopping angrily into the driver’s side. You mirrored him daintily and squeezed your legs together as you tried to make yourself as small as you could.

“I told you about the dryer,” you said.

“And?” he started the engine and slapped his hand around the wheel, “call a fucking electrician or some shit.”

“Alright,” you shrugged as he stopped at the exit of the parking lot and checked his phone quickly.

“Benny wants to do a round of golf,” he peeled out and you grasped the door as your heart raced. You hated how reckless he was when he was angry. You hated how easily he got angry these days.

“Okay,” you picked at the fraying stitching of your purse.

“Don’t start moping,” he sneered, “I fucking work all week and I can’t go out and have a few rounds?”

“I never-- I didn’t say anything,” you murmured.

“You don’t need to,” he turned the wheel sharply as he cut off another car, “you sit at home all day and do what?”

“I work too,” you said.

“Uh huh, sure, if that’s what you call it.”

You ran your fingertip over the bleach stain on the knee of your jeans and said nothing. When he was in a mood, he would latch on anything until he outright exploded. You tried to think of when he changed, when he had stopped being the chill guy you met back in college. It felt like a slow trickle, small things you ignored until it was a mountain you could not see past.

You felt like crying but you’d stopped that a while ago. You existed in a purgatory of acceptance and helplessness. You wanted him to love you again, wanted to believe you could fix things. So you would keep trying. You would do better.

💍 

You picked out a large flank of steak and winced at the price. You had a special dinner in mind. It was Friday and the work week was done. You wanted a weekend without a fight and Wesley was always one for a nice big cut of beef. You hadn’t made him one in a while, your dinners were the usual repetitive drumsticks and rice or your homemade mac and cheese.

You continued onto the fish section and grabbed some salmon for yourself. You’d gained some weight and decided to cut out dairy and red meat if you could help it. The pile of produce in your cart reminded you of the extra jiggle around your stomach and thighs. You also grabbed one of those women’s magazines that advertised a regimen to help slim your figure. You only hoped you could stick to it this time.

With your weekly haul in tow, you wheeled up to the check-out and waited behind a young man who looked oddly familiar to you. Maybe that was the passing years. You always felt a vague glimmer of deja vu, more often a sense of forlorn nostalgia of what you would never have again.

As you stared thoughtlessly, he looked over and smiled. He bent in front of your cart and picked up a thin packet of seasoning. 

“You dropped this,” he said as he held it out and you thanked him before quickly snatching it and looking away. 

He paid for his large bags of chips and over salted pre-packaged meals and packed up at the end as you loaded up your own goods, the cashier sending them down the parallel belt. You swiped your card and tried to calculate the chunk of money from your last check. You thanked the clerk and sidled past the young man as he finished up.

You rounded the counter as he lifted his three bags. You looked up without thinking, the sleeve of his shirt tight around his bicep. You caught yourself staring and looked back down as you packed in the cans. 

It reminded you of Wesley; he’d also started being more mindful, he hit the gym after work and you noticed the little pudge that started just after he turned thirty was slimming out. It was that exact reason that made you notice the extra pounds on your own frame, not that you didn’t realise before.

The man left and you unfolded the little buggy you slid under the cart. You loaded your bags into it and dragged the cart behind you as you made an awkward exit with both wheeled trolleys. The compact fabric buggy was easy enough to fit on the bus if you stood.

You pushed the cart into the row of empty ones and continued across the parking lot. You rolled up to the bus shelter and checked the bus times on your phone. You dug out your strip of tickets and ripped one away. You leaned on the thin handle of your trolley and looked over your shoulder as you heard someone approach.

The man who checked out ahead of you put his bags on the metal bench inside the shelter as he sipped on a bright drink from the place just beside the grocery shop. He sent you a smile over his straw and you spun back to crane your head and search for the bus.

When the metal beast barreled up and cranked to a stop at the curb, the man waited behind you and as your wheels caught on the edge of the ramp, he reached around you and helped push it over the lip. You thanked him shyly and continued up. Usually you tried to keep the shop light on weekdays but you hadn’t really been paying attention.

You pushed your cart against the small barrier just behind the accessible seating and stood beside it, conscious not to take up too much space. The man stood just behind you two bags on one shoulder and the other dangling from the opposite elbow as he sucked on his straw. You grabbed the upright bar as the bus took off and watched the electronic banner for your stop.

A sharp stop had you veering back and you were caught by the young man as he chucked, “oop, you okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” you muttered and gave a sheepish smile over your shoulder.

“There’s a seat,” he gestured just behind you, “I’ll watch your stuff.”

“Um, no it’s… fine,” you gripped the bar tighter as the bus shuttled forward, “my stop is soon.”

You looked ahead of you and three stops passed before yours. You exited through the front with your buggy and headed down the sidewalk as the bus pulled away. You were exhausted just from your little sojourn and it wasn’t even two o’clock. God, you felt old.

💍

You had a salad chopped and tossed and the steak and fish laid out and seasoned. As you listened to your old Spotify list, the music dipped and the notification blipped over the screen. You washed your hands and grabbed the phone. You frowned as you read the lone message from Wesley, the only one you got from him all day.

‘Just finished at the gym, getting drinks with Andrew,’ you read and re-read the message as your heart fell.

You typed out a whole angry response and backspaced it all. You replaced it with ‘ok, have fun’ and blacked the screen. You shoved the meat back in the fridge and stretched saran wrap over the bowl of salad. You placed it on a lower shelf and closed the door, quickly swiping a can of the craft beer Wesley kept around.

You shut the light off in the kitchen and ignored the pang in your stomach as you cracked the can. You climbed the stairs as you sipped the hoppy foam. You put it on the night table and changed into the old butterfly pajamas you wore most nights and turned on the tv mounted against the wall. 

You turned on Netflix but hardly paid attention to the carelessly chosen movie. You sat against the headboard and down the bitter beer until the can was hollow and your eyelids were heavy. You slumped down so that your shoulders were at your ears and dozed off in the stiff position as the room moved with the colours of the television. 

The anger and alcohol shaded your shallow sleep and you hardly heard Wesley when he came in, only waking when your bladder was ready to burst and his snores rumbled in your head. You went to the bathroom and returned, wide awake, and stared at the shape of him in the dark.

You remembered when he used to kiss you when he came home, even when you were asleep, he’d wake you with the little pecks. You remembered when he was happy to come home. You remembered when you were happy. 

You swallowed the acrid aftertaste of beer and left him to snore. You went downstairs and curled up on the couch but didn’t sleep. You just stared at the shadows of the furniture until the sun rose.

💍

The next day, Wesley didn’t wake until after noon and when he did, he didn’t say a word to you. He took his coffee and sat at the patio table in the back as you stewed and cleaned the kitchen. You had nothing to say to him even if you felt stupid for being mad.

“Gotta head down to the dealership,” he said as he interrupted your scouring of the stove.

“The dealership?” you said after a moment, deciding whether or not to break your vow of silence.

“I told you on Wednesday, I’m picking up the car--”

“We talked about this. We should wait a little longer--”

“It’s my money and I got a great price,” he sighed, “just because you have to pinch your pennies--”

“We’re married,” you squeezed the foam sponge, “it’s our money. Don’t act like I don’t pay for anything around here.”

“Oh thanks, honey, so wonderful you paid for a five dollar steak,” he scoffed, “I’ll be impressed when you can make a mortgage payment on your own.”

“How dare you!” you turned your back to him and kept scrubbing, “fine, but not a penny of my money is going to that thing.”

“That’s fine, I’m selling the old one, that should cover most of it--”

“What?” you slammed your hand between the burner, “you said we would hold onto it so I had something to--”

“Then you can buy it from me,” he said venomously.

“I’m your wife,” you spun to scowl at him again, “I-- what is wrong with you?”

He tilted his head and squinted as he poked his tongue out along his lip. “Nothing wrong with me,” he shrugged, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t--” you warned as you pointed a finger at him through the bright yellow gloves, “don’t do that… I’ve been trying and you just keep pushing me away.”

“Me pushing you away?” he rolled his eyes, “you were passed out last night when I got home. Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep before nine I could actually fuck you… or at least get it up if you worked on losing some of that cellulite on your ass.”

Your lip quivered and you sucked in a breath. You shook your head and turned around again. You ignored him as your hand shook and you continued your work, scratching at the dried-on food around the burner. His empty mug clinked onto the counter and you listened to his exit.

Fuck him and his new car. You were done trying with him.

💍

Wesley’s new car was shrouded in the shade of the garage as the old black Hyundai sat out on the driveway with a red and white “For Sale” sign on the windshield. Right after he got back from his extravagant purchase, he made the listing online and several perusers stopped by Saturday night but Sunday morning saw the car still there.

You sat by the border of stones around the garden as he drank beer in the garage and approached any interested buyers who appeared; although so far he’d only had two before noon.

You tucked your clippers into your apron pocket and dusted off your gloves as you stood. You were a little dizzy from sitting out in the sun and a glass of water was the perfect excuse to drown out the annoying sound of your husband’s voice.

You ignored Wesley as you trod through the garage and kicked your sneakers off on the mat right before the three steps up to the house. You went to the kitchen and put your gloves on the counter as you filled a glass from the dispenser on the front of the fridge. You’d given up everything but water and the slices of lemon were the only flavour you had.

You took the glass and your gloves and headed back. Wesley waited just at the bottom of the stairs as he glared up at you with arms crossed. You sighed and descended but he didn’t let you pass.

“What is your problem?”

“Are you really asking me that?” you hissed.

“You giving me the silent treatment isn’t gonna fix this,” he snarled.

“You know what you said so… I shouldn’t have to tell you to apologize,” you retorted and he stayed put.

“Is this about the car?”

“The car is just another thing,” you cross an arm around your stomach, “you think I couldn’t use it to get around, to get the groceries maybe? Or, I don’t know, maybe since you have such a problem with my home office, I could go out and get a ‘big girl’ job as you put it so many times--”

“Your mother has a car she never drives. You can just take her with you, two birds, one stone. I need to sell this to pay for the new one--”

“The one I begged you not to buy,” you huffed, “you could’ve waited a few more years until we were a little more comfortable--”

“Oh, wait? Until we have a kid and all my money goes to it,” he snapped, “yeah, I’m sure we’d have the money then--”

“You’d have to fuck to do that,” you stepped down the last step and pushed past him.

As you came into the sunlight and shielded your eyes, a figure stood by the garden, knelt just by your tulips as he felt the soft petals. You narrowed your eyes. You recognized him for sure. It was the stranger from the bus.

“Um, hi?” you croaked as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Hey, it’s… you again,” he chuckled softly as he stood, “I saw an ad for a car and… well, I’m getting tired of the bus.”

“Oh, uh, my husband,” you pointed over your shoulder, “you’ll have to talk to him.”

“Okay,” he smiled, “Peter,” he held out his hand and you stared at it. You introduced yourself and shook his firm grip.

“Like I said, it’s my husband selling the car,” you brushed by him and got to your knees by the flowerbed. “Unless you’re looking to buy some wilting pansies.”

“Hmm, I like the tulips better,” he said as he slowly inched away, “thanks.”

You sat back on your heels and he strode over to the open garage. You heard Wesley greet him and didn’t bother paying attention to the same pitch you’d heard all morning. You pulled on your gloves and wiggled your nose as it tingled. You really just wanted to keel over and bawl.

“Sold,” Wesley announced and you heard a clap, “all yours!”

“I’ll just transfer the deposit,” Peter said and a minute passed before he emerged again, the keys hanging from his finger, “Thanks, Wes.”

You hid your distaste. It used to be that Wesley hated being called ‘Wes’ but lately, he introduced himself to everyone as just ‘Wes’. He really had changed. You must have too.

“Hey,” you looked up and blinked as the sun made your eyes water as it shone around Peter.

“You bought it?” you asked as you yanked free a weed.

“Yep, but uh,” he glanced over his shoulder as the old car stereo Wesley used blared out a classic rock tune, “I… wasn’t eavesdropping but I heard some of it and… if you ever need a ride to the grocery store, I usually try for Wednesdays,” he tucked his hand in his pocket, “I don’t live too far and since we go to the same one--”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” you looked back to the soil, embarrassed.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he kept the keys dangling from one finger and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and slid out a card with some effort, “I’m supposed to have these handy but I never really use them.”

He offered the business card and you read his name above the title, ‘senior photographer’. You gave a half-hearted smile and put it in your apron pocket.

“Thanks,” you said, “I can manage.”

“You don’t have to though,” he said kindly, “but I’ll, uh, leave you to your gardening. Sorry if I bugged you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured without looking up, flattered that anyone cared enough to even offer help.

“Hey, Pete,” Wesley stopped Peter as he neared the car, “you can have one before you go.”

“Oh, no, I’m gonna be driving,” Peter argued.

“Pfft, it’s a celebration and one won’t put you over the limit,” Wesley insisted and handed him a dark bottle of craft brew, “come on.”

“I really should go--”

“It’s a Sunday, where do you need to be?” Wesley patted his shoulder and looked over at you, “hey, honey, you wanna see if we have any snacks for our guest?”

“I’m not hungry,” Peter said curtly, “really. Just the beer is fine.”

They disappeared back into the garage and you cringed. You hated that. Wesley only every acted like a husband when others were around.

💍

You waited a whole week before returning to the grocery store. You were short on everything and it was a reason to get out of the house. Your husband had made both your home and your workplace hostile.

It irked you that Wesley resented you working from home when a couple years ago he was so happy about it. Then, he’d been so enthusiastic about starting a family but when it didn’t happen right away, he grew disillusioned and bitter. Now, he seemed to have no interest in being a husband let alone a father.

As you packed up your spinach and bottles of Perrier, your cart rolled just a little as someone nudged it from the other end. You raised your head and hid your surprise and discomfort as Peter smiled back at you.

“I thought you said Wednesdays,” you murmured as you dropped a bag in your cart.

“I forgot eggs,” he held up the carton, “I guess I have good timing.”

“You do?” you asked as you pulled your cart forward and maneuvered around to push it out of the way of fellow shoppers. You bent to grab your trolley from beneath and he caught it as you unfolded it.

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“I told you--”

“I’m here so why not? Save the ticket for next time,” he urged.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it matter? Why do I matter to you?” you asked.

“I don’t know, I… like helping people,” he shrugged, “what if I told you you were helping me? I have this horrible need to be the hero.”

“That will go away,” you muttered under your breath and he lifted a brow, “sorry, I… thank you.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” he collapsed the trolley and carried it easily under his arm as he cradled his eggs in the other, “I got the A/C fixed on the car too.”

“Mmm,” you hummed and walked with him out of the store. 

You crossed the parking lot and helped you load up the bags in the trunk. That car should have been yours; you’d made enough payments on it yourself but Wesley was such a stubborn ass.

You sat in the front seat as he slid into the other and started the car. He drove cautiously through the lot and you read the store signs as he came to the exit.

“How long have you and… the old man been together?”

“Um,” you glanced over at him and chewed your lip, “since college so… almost fifteen years now.”

“Fifteen?” he turned out onto the street, “really? I thought he was older than you.”

“Christ,” you scoffed, “don’t flatter me.”

“Really, I woulda said twenty-eight at most,” he said coolly, “wow, I feel so young now.”

“And I feel so old,” you grumbled as you crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice the wrinkle in the pink capris.

“Whatever, you’re not even forty,” he said, “and time has treated you well so I can only think in a few years… oh jeez, sorry, that came off weirder than I intended. Not that I meant for it to be weird at all--”

You giggled at his rambling as he rolled to a stop at the sign and peeked over at you in the rearview. You caught his eye and quickly looked away, “what?”

“Just… you have a nice smile,” he said as he turned down a side street, “and a nice laugh.”

“Thank you,” your voice was brittle at the genuine compliment, “you’re funny.”

“Am I? I wasn’t trying to be,” he took the same short cut you took when you walked home from the convenience store which was closer than the plaza.

“And nice,” you said as he came onto your street, “you really didn’t have to drive me. You could’ve dropped me at the corner--”

“No way, I was raised better than that, and if you think I’m letting you carry that all in by yourself--”

“Raised to help little old ladies?” you mused.

“Raised to treat ladies properly,” he corrected, “especially pretty ones.”

“I’m married,” your heart pattered as you dared to flirt back, almost in disbelief that he was humouring you, “and your lies don’t work on me, young man.”

“Not that young,” he insisted as he pulled into the driveway.

You got out and went around to the trunk. He handed you the bag with the bread and other light products, and loaded up with the other bags.

“You get the doors, let me do the heavy work,” he said and nodded you towards the house.

You went ahead of him and unlocked the door. You let him inside and pointed him into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter and stretched his arms and hands as you set yours on the other side. The muscles of his arms moved under his skin and you could trace the lines of his torso through his grey tee.

“So,” he took out the bottle of Perrier, “this going in the fridge?”

“What-- you’ve done enough.”

“Fridge?” he ignored you and pulled out the other.

You gave a long blink and threw up your hands in surrender, “yes, please,” you came around and reached in to grab the whole grain buns, “bottom shelf.”

You finished unpacking your groceries and took the empty bags from Peter and shoved them under the counter. You stood and looked at him nervously as he watched you, his fingers tapping on the granite.

“Do you want a snack? Something to drink? Water?”

“I’ll have a water,” he said and moved to leaned his elbow on the countertop, his side snug to the edge.

“Sparkling or--”

“Regular’s fine,” he answered

“Ice? Lemon?” you pulled out a tall glass.

“Just ice is fine… then I’ll be out of your hair,” he said.

Ice clinked into the glass and you covered it with the distilled water from the fridge. You slid it onto the counter and stepped back.

“Oh, I… actually, it’s a good thing I ran into you,” he said and took a sip, “my aunt, she likes to garden too but she got some bulbs she’s not gonna use, I thought maybe… maybe you would like some to fill in the holes?”

“What kind?” you asked.

“Some daffodils and some crocuses, I think,” he said, “I could bring them over next week after work?”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” you scrunched your lips, “you could probably just give them to a neighbour.”

“It’s not out of the way,” he said, “you want them?”

You stared at him and thought. He was nice. Too nice.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, I… I’m sure you have a girlfriend you could be spending time with--”

“I don’t. Not anymore,” he interrupted.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, “I didn’t--”

“Like I said, I always wanna be the good guy,” he finished his water and the last of the cubes settled at the bottom, “thanks.”

“No, thank you,” you said as he set his glass in the sink and backed away, “really, you made my day so much easier.”

“I hope your weekend is better,” he said, “but…”

He didn’t finished and you folded your hands together as he hesitated by the hallway.

“But what?” you prodded.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “nothing. I should go.”

“Okay,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “see ya.”

“Monday,” he confirmed as he turned to the doorframe, “I’ll bring the bulbs. Just after seven.”

“Right,” you slanted your lips and watched him go.

The door marked his departure and you turned to exhale and lean against the counter. You could still smell his rich cologne. Then you felt guilty. It was stupid to think he was doing anything more than being nice, that the flirting was anything but a joke, but still, you missed feeling that way and it should’ve been Wesley making you feel that.

💍

You squeezed the phone as you clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. Your eyes were wet and finally the tears were ready to start falling. The smell of steak filled the kitchen, another meal you wouldn’t eat. At the last minute, Wesley texted to tell you he was hitting the gym. Again. He was already late after a long meeting but promised he’d be home to eat.

So you waited for him to answer your furious phone call but got his voicemail instead. Your eyes narrowed at the bottle of wine and your chest knotted as the tone sounded.

“Wesley, this is it. I can’t do this anymore! I’m your wife. Do you even want to be with me? I can’t go on like this and now you won’t even answer my calls,” you snarled. You knew he had his phone on him as he no doubt had his Spotify work-out list on shuffle, “when you come home, you can sleep on the couch.”

You hung up and grabbed a stemmed glass from the cupboard. You filled it to the brim with Pinot Grigio but before you could taste it, the doorbell made you jump. You set down the glass and walked up the hallway. Just on the other side of the frosted glass was a silhouette. You opened the door and touched your forehead as you faced Peter.

“I totally forgot you were coming,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. But thank you, you really didn’t have to--”

“Are you okay?” he asked as the paper bag in his hand crinkled.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I… thank you for the flowers,” you looked at the brown paper bag and he handed it over, another bag on his wrist; white with ribbon handles, “what’s that? You headed out for a date?”

“Um, no,” he said, “actually, I was just…” he pushed his fingers through his hairs, the reddish brown locks slightly curled with sweat, “I wanted to talk to you.” He looked past you and his warm eyes returned to yours, “Wesley isn’t home yet?”

“No, he won’t be for a while,” you backed up, “so you might as well come in. I have a steak no one’s gonna eat.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t be,” Peter said glumly, “and steak sounds good.”

He closed the door behind him and followed you into the kitchen. You put the bulbs at the back of the counter and grabbed the bottle, “wine?”

“No thank you,” he said.

You plunked down the bottle and took a gulp of your wine before you turned to plate the steak and your chicken breast alongside the fried asparagus and roasted potatoes. You set the filet before him as he sat on the stool and climbed up across from him at the long island.

“Thank you,” he watched you slide a steak knife and fork towards him and his gaze lingered on your lips as you took another thirsty mouthful, “this is for you, actually.”

He pushed the white bag over to you and you smelled the subtle floral scent rising from it. You put your glass down and pushed open the top of the bag and peeked inside. You shook your head and rescinded your hand as if you were slapped. It was the same perfume from that day weeks ago.

“You… how?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

You thought back on the day you wanted to forget. He was the other shopper in the perfume section, the one who sent you that sympathetic look as Wesley reproached you. You winced and grabbed your utensils. You cut into the chicken and shoved it in your mouth. You swallowed loudly.

“Take it back,” you sniffed, “I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it.”

“You do. He doesn’t deserve you,” he carefully sliced into the medium rare steak.

“Is that what this is? Some perverted joke? A challenge?” you dropped your fork and knife, “you think you can seduce the sad housewife and then laugh at it? Sow your wild oats?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” he calmly put down the silverware, “I… what I didn’t say when I showed up is I just came from the gym.”

You frowned in confusion and wrinkled your nose. You took another drink of wine as you tried to understand.

“I saw Wesley,” he said as he leaned on his elbow and pulled out his phone with his other hand, “I didn’t wanna say anything but… you’re here beating yourself up over him and-- just look.”

He slid his phone across the counter and you looked at the screen. Your entire body felt heavy and your veins filled with ice. You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to wipe the sight from your eyes; the image of your husband groping a woman in yoga pants, an act she wasn’t deterring.

“I knew it,” you sobbed as the tears burst forth and leaked down your palms, “I knew it. And why wouldn’t he? I’m old, ugly--” you sniffed and pulled your hands away to wipe them on your pants. Peter held out a paper towel and you took it as you avoided his eyes, “thank you but I think you should go. I’m humiliated enough.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said as he climbed down from the stool and rounded the island, “he’s an asshole. He’s blind.”

“Please, Peter, just leave me alone,” you slid off the stool and he caught your shoulders. You looked up at him as you dabbed away the streaks of sadness with the paper towel, “Peter--”

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly, “he’s out there having his fun, so why don’t you have some of your own?”

“Peter, that’s-- that’s wrong. I’m too old for you. And… I’m fat and--”

“You’re perfect,” he reached up to frame your chin with his hand, “you’re gorgeous,” his other hand trailed down your arm and to your hip, “that’s the first thing I noticed about you…” he pulled you closer and tapped your ass lightly.

“No, I can’t-- I just want to be alone,” you pushed on his arms and felt the thick biceps as he flexed and kept you close.

“Well, baby, what I want,” he turned you so that you were pinned between him and the island, “is for you to put on that perfume… I want you wearing nothing but that.”

“Peter,” you pushed on his chest that time and the hard muscle wall didn’t budge, “Peter, go--”

“Baby,” he bent and scooped you up suddenly. 

His hands spread over your ass as he lifted you and crushed his lips against yours. You murmured in surprise and he placed you on the granite countertop. He parted from your lips as you sat up and he shoved your legs apart, inserting himself between your knees. He played with the bottom of the dress you’d worn in hopes of rekindling your dying marriage.

“We can go slow,” he tickled along your thighs and pulled back suddenly, “just a little at a time.” 

He leaned in as he reached around you and grabbed the small white bag. He pulled out the perfume and snaked his hand around your neck. He pulled you to bend over him and he kissed your neck just before he sprayed a puff of perfume across your throat. He stood back and took a deep breath. He put the bottle on the counter and his hands went back to your skirt.

“Peter,” you caught his hands as they crept under the fabric, “please.”

You tried to slide forward and he stopped you as he grasped your hips and held you in place. He bit his lip as his eyes glimmered up at you. He drew a hand away and took the glass of wine and held it before your mouth.

“Drink, relax,” he cooed, “forget about him.”

You stared at him and he brought your hand up with his and wrapped it around the full body of the glass. He nudged it to your lips and watched you until you drank from the crystal rim. He smirked and lifted your skirt as he bent to bury his head beneath the folds.

You gulped and choked on the wine as your skirt fluttered down over his shoulders. You felt his finger on the lace trim of your panties and winced. He squeezed your thighs with his other hand and nuzzled the crotch of your underwear. You tried to close your legs but he kept them apart easily.

He curled his fingers under the elastic of your panties and tugged. He pulled until you lifted your ass just enough for him to get them free and he guided them down your legs before quickly parting them again.

You set down the glass and almost overturned it, the last mouthful splashing up the side. You pressed your hands to the granite and peered down at the shape of his head beneath your skirt. You gasped as his cool tongue grazed your warm folds and delved deeper.

“Peter…” you wisped and closed your eyes as you tried to hide from your own shame.

He purred as his tongue flicked over your clit and you twitched. He caressed the crease of your thigh with his fingers as he lapped at your, his other hand pressed against your stomach until you fell back across the counter. You arched your back instinctively and his hand cupped your tit through your dress.

He blindly pulled until your chest slipped out and pushed the cup of your bra as he teased your clit with his tongue. He felt along your cunt with his fingers and shoved his index inside of you. You moaned as he pushed another inside and curled them as he suckled on your bud.

Your core burned to life. Your entire being was set alight after months without affection. You quivered in delight and fear. Your nerves stormed both out of guilt and hunger. It felt so good but you knew it was wrong. The scent of the perfume filled your nose as your skin grew hot.

He moved his hand in time with his mouth as he doted on you. His touch intensified as your legs bent around the side of the island and your fingernails dragged along the granite, your voice rising without thought. He pinched your nipple and you cried out as you came in a wave of sheer pleasure and grabbed his wrist as you tried to steady yourself.

He eased off slowly as you trembled in the afterglow, his lingering touch tickled along your legs as he pushed your dress up. He pulled you to sit up and lifted the fabric over your head and ripped your sleeves free from your arms. He tossed as side the garment and swiftly covered your mouth with his so you tasted your own arousal on his tongue.

He unhooked your bra blindly and slid it off your arms. You were intensely aware of your nakedness and as you brought your arms up to cover yourself, he forced them down and ran his hands over your bare torso. 

“Beautiful,” he said as he laid a trail of gentle pecks along your throat and chest, pausing to take a nipple in his mouth as he rolled the other between his fingers and sent a shiver through you.

He kneaded your sides and hips, his fingers danced along your thighs and he followed the path with his mouth, kissing and nipping your flesh. He lifted his head again as he took your hands and twined his fingers through yours. He tugged you gently until you slid off the counter and landed on your feet shakily.

“Baby, you’re so amazing,” he placed your hands on his chest and pushed them down his muscled torso and brought them back up beneath his tee shirt, “go on.”

He let you go and you continued to roll up his tee. He dipped his head and raised his arms to help you and you clung to the tee as it fell limp in your grasp. Dazed, he snatched the shirt from your hands and flung it. He once more pressed your hands to his chest and guided you in feeling the lines of his toned flesh.

He pushed your hands against the top of his jeans and leaned into you. He kissed your temple and whispered along your hairline, “turn around, baby.” He squeezed your ass and purred, “mmmm, please, I wanna see that ass.”

You blinked, dazed, and spun slowly. You caught yourself on the edge of the counter as your legs trembled and you heard the subtle zip. He kicked his foot between yours and pushed your legs apart as he led you back so that you were slightly bent against the island. He ran his nails down your back and gripped your hip with one hand as his other drew away from your skin.

You flinched as you felt his smooth tip against your ass and he rubbed it between your cheeks. You inhaled and held in your breath as his hold on your tightened and he angled his dick under your ass and grazed your cunt. He poked your entrance and pressed his chest to your back as his hand covered yours on the granite.

He slid into you and your voice fizzled in the air as he forced the air from your lungs. You pushed your head back and it met his shoulder as his other hand crawled down your front. He spread your folds with his fingers and swirled another around your clit as he tilted his hips and thrust into you slowly.

“Ah, Peter,” you slapped the counter and he shushed you as his hand left yours cold and his fingers stretched over your throat.

His motion picked up as the noise of him crashing into you echoed around the kitchen. Your eyes rolled back as he rammed into you even harder. You were on tiptoes as he was driven by the weak moans that leaked from your lips and your wet pleasure squelched around him. He pressed two fingers to your bud and rubbed until you squeaked and your thighs quaked around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, “I bet you never cum like that for him.”

You whined and he sped up again. He pinned you against the counter so that the lip pressed into your stomach. He took his hand from your cunt and pushed your head down as he kept his other hand around your neck. He didn’t waver once as he fucked you.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he commanded, “I want you to cum again for me. I know you want to too.”

His thick breath warmed the air and grazed your back as he held you down and his hold on your neck tightened until silver stars rose in your vision. Your feet dangled against the tile and you reached down to play with your clit as it buzzed. It was only seconds before you were murmuring in ecstasy once more.

“Fuck, baby, can you feel that? The way your clinging to me,” he puffed as he slammed into you over and over, “he can hardly fill you, can he? Hmmm? Little man.”

You wheezed as he choked you and his other hand kept your head pinned. You heard a distant creak but could barely do more than keep your fingers moving as your heartbeat deafened you. You came again and croaked as your cunt squeezed him hungrily.

“What the fuck?” the voice broke your lusty trance and suddenly you were pulled away from the counter.

Your head lulled as Peter held it up and turned you around, his pelvis slapping against your ass as you faced your husband. Your mouth hung open as your blurred vision barely registered the scene and the deep grunts only got louder behind you.

“Look who’s here,” Peter rasped as he snaked his arm around you.

“The fuck are you doing?” Wesley sneered as your eyes closed and your ass rang with each thrust.

“What you can’t,” Peter snickered, “doesn’t she look so happy?” He grasped your chin and pushed his fingers into your mouth as he held your head up, “well, you into watching or you gonna let us finish, old man?”

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #fic #peter parker x reader #dark fic #one shot #dark!fic #do us part #marvel #mcu #spider-man #avengers

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Can you writeba one shot for Cooper where he's talking about Emily (the girl he kind of dates) and the reader who has been his childhood friend and fell in love with him can't take it anymore so She just snaps at Cooper and confesses to him? If you dont want to write it, I understand! 😊

omg Ilysm anon this is such a good idea! Of course I'll write it!

Shut Up

Summary: You had been in love with Cooper ever since you were kids. One day when he’s talking about Emily you just snap and accidentally confess your feelings for him.

Warnings: this is pure fluff

Word Count: 1698

You were hanging out in Cooper's room like you guys always did after school. One of his random edgy CD's playing on the stereo as Cooper sat at his computer furiously typing away. You were painting your nails on his bed, the nail polish bottles balanced on your thigh. "You better not spill that shit on my bed." Cooper grumbled, not bothering to look up from his screen. You rolled your eyes as you gently blew on your nails, hoping to dry them faster.

"I'm not going to spill it, I know what I'm doing."

 "Sure you do."

 You got up to sit in the chair next to his. You leaned your head on his shoulder and he didn't even flinch he was used to it. You guys had been friends forever now, you had met in third grade. You both had scoffed at the idea of reading another picture book, you both were far more interested in reading classical literature. He had given you a smile from across the room and in that moment you fell in love with Cooper Day. You squinted at his screen, your brow furrowing in confusion at the words. It was so different from what he usually wrote. “What is this?” 

 “A story duh.” 

 “I know that idiot. I mean why are you writing this fluff piece instead of your usual end of the world edgy philosophical stuff about life.”

 He jerked his shoulder up, knocking your head off. “Just trying something new.”

 “Bullshit.” You saw his phone buzz and went to yank it off his desk before he could. You saw the name Emily flashing and you felt your heart drop. You pushed past it, holding his phone out of reach and teasing him. “Who’s Emily?”

 “No one.” He said, kicking the bottom of your chair and knocking it over. You fell onto your ass and he yanked his phone back giving you a triumphic smile. 

 “Dick.” You muttered. 

 “Only if you ask nicely.” 

 You picked your chair and sat back down. You saw him finish off his writing and held your hand out asking for his. He compiled, swirling his chair to face you already knowing what you wanted. You shook the nail polish bottle, and twisted the cap off, wiping the excess off on the side of the bottle. You carefully brushed the color onto his nails, careful not to smear your own in the process. ``So… are you writing that crappy piece for that Emily girl?”  

 “Yea.” He admitted.

 “Why?’

 “Cause she’s hot.”

“Gross.”

He just shrugged. “I mean when am I going to get a chance like this again?”

“What do you mean.”

“Girls like her don’t usually look at me, and I don’t know doing this for her gets me a lot in return. Like the other day-“ Cooper started to ramble and you did your best to listen, biting your tongue each time he mentioned that this was probably the only time someone was going to like him like this.

You tried to change the conversation multiple times but it someone always drifted back to that Emily girl and how she had made out with her the other day. The second he mentioned that he could smell her sickly sweet shampoo you snapped, roughly shoving the cap back on the nail polish. Cooper gave you a confused look. “What are you doing you didn’t even finish painting my-“

“Shut up!” He reeled back at your words. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” He looked at your with wide eyes. “If I have to listen to you talk about that stupid girl for one more second I’m going to jump out that window.”

“What’s your damage (y/n)?” Cooper had snatched the nail polish bottle, finishing what you hadn’t.

“What’s you’re damage?” You mocked, lowering your voice to imitate his. “It’s you!”

“What did I do?” He asked, slowly getting angry.

“You’ve been rambling for the the last half hour about how no likes you but that Emily, to the person who has been in love with you since the third grade!” The minute the words left your mouth you slapped your hand over your mouth, praying you hadn’t said what you thought you said.

You could feel the tension in the air at your words. You looked down, not daring to meet his eyes. “You like me?”

You looked up at Cooper, he had a hint of a smile on his lips. You took it as a good sign and returned it. “Duh. You’re just too oblivious to pick up on it.”

“If you’re calling me oblivious what does that say about you?” You gave him a confused look and he let out an airy laugh. “I’ve been love with you since the third grade too.” You felt your jaw drop and cooper laughed at your shocked expression. “I guess we’re both idiots when it comes to this stuff.” He joked.

“I guess so.” You laughed with him.

You could feel the tension in the air from both of yours confessions. You just stared at one another, smiling dumbly, neither one of you knowing what to say. Cooper was the first to break the silence, he grabbed the nail polish bottle and tossed it at you, you caught it. “Now can you come finish painting my nails, I keep smearing it.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a smile. “Sure.”

You sat back down in your chair across from Cooper. He had scooted closer to you, allowing your chair to sit comfortably in between his. He was so close you could feel his hot breath on your skin, you did you best not to get distracted by it. Focusing on finishing up his nails. Every now and then you guys would glance up at one another, but then you would both get flustered and turn away.

The next time you looked up Cooper didn’t break your gaze. He wet his lips and hesitantly leaned closer to you, his eyes fluttering shut. You met him half way, a smile on your face. It was exactly how you always imagined it would be. His lips were rough against yours, but his kiss was gentle and loving. A complete opposite from his cold exterior, he let you take control for a moment before finally pulling away. Cooper’s face was bright red, he glanced down at his hands noticing that you had messed up his nails when you had put your hand over his durning the kiss.

“Shit.” You gave him a panicked look, fearing you did something wrong. “You smeared my nail polish.” Cooper lifted his hand up for you to see. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “If you keep doing that your eyes are going to get stuck back there.”

“Shut up you idiot.”

“Only if you make me.”

“Deal.”

You smiled as you felt his hands pull you closer by your waist, your hands coming up to rest around his neck. You pressed a kiss to his lips, both of you smiling as you both finally got what you’d always wanted.

Taglist: @booboomother @xxspqcebunsxx @coffeeandteaintheevening @kitwalkerangel @xmaximoffic @livingmybestfictionallife @evanmybeloved @shlutnutt @rottenstyx

#cooper day x y/n #cooper day fluff #cooper day headcannons #cooper day x you #cooper day x reader #cooper day #the days #the days tv show #evan peters #evan peters headcanon #evan peters x you #evan peters fluff #evan peters characters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x y/n #requests #fanfic request

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 4 - My Apologies

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None

WC - 2551

Square Filled - Fluff ( @girl-next-door-writes's Make Me Feel Bingo); Neighbours AU ( @anyfandomfluffbingo )

A/N - A new chapter! Hope you enjoy reading this!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Beta'd by @miss-nerd95 <33

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Click. Click. Click.

Adjusting her glasses on the nose, Y/N toyed around with the pen in hand, blankly staring at the kitchen wall. The empty sheet of paper sat there on the table, glaring at her. It was a bit old-school, considering her laptop was lying only a small distance away but this was how she preferred to work on her novel. It had nothing to do with her laziness.

The fear of another rejection was weighing heavily on her and she was really close to giving up on her dream of being an actually published writer. However, after her little pep talk to herself last night, she had this new indomitable spirit ignited inside her. Though that spirit was fading away with every passing minute now.

Y/N dropped the pen on the table with a huff, its metallic body hitting the wooden surface of the table as she got up to make herself a cup of coffee. Now, she might not want to admit it, but her novel wasn't the only thing that was troubling her.

A stranger’s callous comments should never hurt so much but when Dean called her stupid or rather a brainless idiot, for some reason, Y/N took it to the heart. She had then come to the conclusion that he was an ass and it was futile to even try and start a healthy relationship, but the bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter in front of her changed every perception of him yet again.

Ms. L/N, I didn't have any intentions of humiliating you. I'm really sorry. I hope you accept this small token of apology.

Walking up to the counter, Y/N picked up the small, white card and read the handwritten apology for the hundredth time that day. She didn't know if she should be impressed at his tacky methods of apologies or be annoyed at him for wrecking her mental sanity. Shaking off her thoughts, she was just about to dive back right into her writing when the coffee machine beeped.

“This is not gonna work.” She sighed, pouring one cup of the warm liquid and bringing it close to her lips. After finishing her drink, she decided to go out on a walk to clear her head but just as she stepped out of her house, she heard soft pitter patters of feet out in the hallway before a small figure of a hazel-eyed girl came into her sight.

Y/N tilted her head in confusion as the little girl ran in the halls. She looked around for her parents, but didn't see anyone else.

“Hey, pretty girl. What are you doing out here all alone?” She called out to the girl, making her stop in her tracks and look at Y/N.

“Daddy says not to talk to strangers.” She said while she cautiously approached the woman anyway.

“Where's your Dad?" She smiled softly, " I'm Y/N. See now you know me.”

“Daddy's-”

“I told you to stay inside, babygirl.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat when she heard the all too familiar voice of her ridiculously handsome neighbor before the tall figure of the man himself appeared in front of her. His eyes were focused on the little girl as he walked up to her. Dean crouched down to her height, hands gently placed on her shoulders. “Never go anywhere alone again. Alright?”

Does he have a daughter?

But she had never seen the girl before. Y/N was in awe as she saw the grumpy facade fade away when he talked with her. She realised that there were so many things about Dean that she truly didn't know. Maybe she had, after all, misjudged him on some petty conflicts.

“At least your kid was within the building.” Y/N said.

“Ms. L/N.” Dean regarded and turned to look at her. He shuffled on his feet which made Y/N raise a curious brow.

“Hello, Mr. Winchester.” A look of guilt with an underlying hurt flashed in his eyes when she didn't acknowledge him by his first name. He was very sure his effort at a decent apology had been appalling and it made him wince, thinking of the awfully cringy card he had curated by his own hand to convey his regrets.

“She is pwetty.” The girl tapped his knee, attracting his attention while looking at Y/N.

“Y-yeah.” Heat crept up Y/N’s neck when she heard Dean agree with the kid. A moment of awkward silence passed as Dean looked back up at the woman, this time his gaze not faltering making the woman’s cheeks warm up even more. “She is pretty, baby.”

“You are prettier. Look at you! You look absolutely stunning in that dress and hair!” Y/N jumped in deciding to not make the situation more awkward. She hoped that Dean was maintaining his usual poker face, but instead, the corner of his lips tugged up in a little smile as the girl diverted her attention to Y/N.

“Uncle De did my hair.” She said proudly and Y/N stared at Dean. Uncle De? Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought of him to be such a gentle soul. She now remembered that the last time she saw Dean, he had told her about meeting up with his brother.

“He did an excellent job, I see.” The woman said as Dean got up and stood up straight. “What's your name, pretty girl?” She looked up at Dean, as he nodded his head.

“Ava.” She muttered.

“So Ava, remember next time to not go anywhere without Uncle De’s permission. Promise?” Y/N said and walked up closer to the two humans as Ava nodded her head agreeing to her proposition, all the while Dean’s eyes trailed along the woman's every movement. He was the best in his profession and he excelled at reading his client's body languages to figure out conflict, but Y/N was like a puzzle to him right now so he decided to take matters in his own hands.

“I hope you liked the flowers.” There it was, subtle, but at least he owned up to his apology. Y/N observed him for a moment, watching as he was nervously wringing his hands together. He seemed nervous around her. This wasn't the Dean Winchester she had come to know in the last few, quite unfortunate encounters.

“I did.” Y/N wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. He tightly held Ava’s hand to not let her out of his sight.

“De-” she pouted, “Uncle De!” The said man looked down at his niece.

“Stay put for a moment, babygirl. Uncle De needs to talk to this lovely young lady. Then we can go and get ice cream, like I had promised.” He said, before looking up at Y/N. “Listen, I'm sorry for what happened that day. I did not-” Sighing, Dean said before he was unceremoniously cut off by his phone vibrating in his pocket.

His face scrunched up as he stared at his phone screen. Sucking in a deep breath, he let the phone ring until the caller reached the voicemail. He chewed on his plump, pink lip when his phone lit up with a voice message. Y/N had an instinct he was avoiding someone, maybe an ex. Dean must have had some girlfriends.

“I'm sorry, I was saying-” the phone rang again and Dean was so close to throwing the little device against the wall.

“I think you should take that, which seems important. And I would leave you with your work things. I was going out for a walk anyway. Have a good day, Winchester.” Y/N said and walked right past the man.

“Hold up!” Y/N stopped walking before turning around to face the lawyer. “I never had the intention of hurting you.”

“Then you know the story wrong.” She said, shrugging

“Well if we study closely, the scarecrow was actually very intelligent but he never realised it.” Dean shrugged.

“So you're saying that I act stupid.” This time Y/N wasn't offended but she liked watching him squirm.

“N-no I didn't mean that-” He struggled to come up with yet another apology. “Can we drop the subject of the scarecrow? Let's just pretend the story doesn't exist in this context.” Y/N chuckled at the poor man, making him shake his head lightly.

“It's okay, Dean. Go, get the kid some ice cream.” She smiled.

“Join me for a drink sometime.” Dean blurted out without thinking. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he stared at Y/N, trying to gauge her reaction.

“I never pegged you for a guy to ask me for a drink.” She raised a brow at him.

“The card and flowers were pretty lame, I agree…but I do owe you a drink, or maybe a coffee, whatever you prefer.” He said. He knew his method of apologising was crappy but at that moment it was the best he could come up with. Dean never was a man of many words and he sucked at expressing his feelings so it was near impossible for him to think of anything better than this, but now he realised it would have been much better if he would have just knocked on her door.

“Sure.” Y/N nodded.

“How does tomorrow sound? Ava will be back with my brother by then. As you can see I kind of have my hands full right now.” He smiled. Y/N pondered over the sudden change in her hot neighbour’s behaviour. If this was the way Dean chose to open up to her, then so be it.

“Tomorrow sounds good,” she smiled back.

“G-great then!” Heat crept up his neck as he looked at Ava, a bit flustered. He didn't know what her deal was but she always rendered him speechless or stumbled on his own words, trying to form a good comeback. Y/N had an effect on him that neither Jo nor Lisa had ever had on him. Her perky attitude made him want to spend any time he got with her. They were poles apart but Dean found a sense of familiarity in her.

“I won't hold back you two any longer.” Crouching in front of the girl and ruffling her brown hair, Y/N said, “Don't settle with anything less than a triple scoop.”

“Don't give her any ideas,” Dean teasingly warned, “I have no idea how to deal with a kid on a sugar rush.”

“Then don't shy away from asking for a little help. I had to babysit my cousin's kids many times. I know a thing or two about babysitting,” Y/N said.

“I'll definitely take you up on that if things get out of hand.” He said, “See you tomorrow night. Have a good day, Ms. L/N.” He grabbed Ava’s hands tightly, pulling her close as he started to walk towards the elevator. Y/N shook her head, an amused laugh leaving her lips. Some things never change.

“I think the cupcakes worked their magic!” Dean teased, sharing a laugh with Y/N over a glass of Manhattan. This was the first time she had ever seen him laugh. Apparently, he was a happy drunk.

“Some roots of jasmine, rose thorns, a pinch of pearl dust and voila! You have the friendship potion,” She barely made it through with a straight face before bursting out in fits of laughter.

“I had a feeling that there was some kind of sorcery involved.” He said, signalling for another glass for both of them.

“This one’s on me,” Y/N said, making Dean scrunch up his face in an adorable pout.

“No it's not. I'm payin’, I was the one who asked you out.” His eyes immediately widened when he realised what slipped out through his mouth. “Not like an ‘asking out’ asking out. This is-” Dean waved at the space between them “-just a gesture of goodwill.”

“You're adorable.” Y/N giggled.

“What?”

“I know this isn't a date. Just two friends hanging out on a Sunday night.” She shook her head, chuckling as the man picked up his refilled glass and took a sip.

Even if Y/N said it was platonic, the ungodly amount of time she had spent in front of her closet to pick out a perfect outfit would definitely make her rethink her answer. She had skimmed through her closet, trying to find the dress that said ‘just friends’ but to her all the dresses she owned screamed ‘I want you to fuck me’.

Nevertheless, she had settled on a simple pair of blue jeans and a crop top. But she had felt seriously underdressed when she knocked on Dean's door and it had opened to reveal the man in a jeans t-shirt and black slacks, staring at her with a smile on his face.

“Well duh! My first impression of you kinda sucked.” Y/N said.

“I did warm up to ya, didn't I?” Dean chuckled. “Another round?”

“Nuh-uh. Sparkling water for me. I don't want to show up at work tomorrow puking my guts out. And that while nursing a painful hangover? No thanks” She laughed.

“You're no fun!” He chuckled with her.

“I am no fun? What about you, Mr. Turn-down-the-volume?” She said as the bartender pushed a glass of water towards her and poured out another to the man.

“You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?” He shook his head.

“Never.”

A moment of silence passed as Y/N looked across the nightclub buzzing with people just like any other Sunday night. She never thought Dean would be the person to even know about nightclubs around the city but guess she didn't know him that well.

“You wanna head back home? I can walk with you to your place, be all gentlemanly,” he smirked. She liked this drunk version of Dean. He was happier, far more cheesy and funnier than his workaholic version.

“Of course. It's not like we live in the same apartment,” she teased. “Hey, you wanna hit the dance floor before we go back?”

His eyes widened at her sudden question. “No, I don't dance.” He shook his head furiously, clearly stating that dancing was definitely not on his agenda.

“Oh come on, don't be shy.” She said.

“Nope.”

“Fine! You are no fun!” She rolled her eyes, “Let's get outta here then.”

The walk back to their apartment was filled with drunken giggles and cheesy banter. “I had a fun time tonight. Apologies accepted.” Y/N said, unlocking the door to her home.

“Glad to know that. I couldn't have lived knowing you hate me,” Dean teased, “I had a good time as well. I really needed a break from work.”

“So you do accept that you work too much?”

“Agree to disagree.” He shrugged, leaning against the doorway, “Night, Y/N.”

She walked up to the man and pecked his cheek, making his eyes go wide at the sudden affection. He swallowed hard as she stared up at him with hooded eyes. Patting his arms lightly, she said, “Night, Dean, see you in the morning.”

“Only if you're running late.”

Chapter 5

Feedback is highly appreciated!

Let me know if you want to be tagged in this series!

#make me feel bingo #anyfandomfluffbingo #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #au dean x reader #au dean winchester x reader #au dean x you #au dean winchester x you #au dean winchester x y/n #au dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #irresistibly yours

[nebelihood]

Written Continuation of The Looney Tunes Show Comic

//I never write scripts cause I hate them, I like to draw everything, like go directly to the storyboard you might say, but I don't have time rn and yesterday before going to sleep this idea came to me so I wrote a crappy script of how the episode might go.

Here's the link to what I'm talking about

ALSO- here idk if Bugs and Daffy are dating, Lola and Bugs aren't but idk how things are, It's kinda hard to imagine them together ON THE ACTUAL SHOw, since Daffy is kinda mean here and idk I didn't want to make it toxic, I'll figure something out, just imagine this as if it was the actual show//

Crappy script:

//Also, any suggestion on how to improve, I will really appreciate them! I know I didn't write the INT/DAY/BUGS' HOUSE thingy but I completely forgot, sorry. Also some verbs might be wrong and some words might be incorrect, sorry//

Bugs inside the house is putting batteries on the remote control when his phone starts ringing. it's porky and he's nervous.

Porky:b-b-bugs!

Bugs: Hi porky, what's up?

Porky: b-b-bugs you gotta- gotta help!!!

Bugs worried now: what's wrong?

Porky:t-t-this weekend i-im gonna celebrate my anniversary w-w-with Petunia! I-i don't know what to do!

Bugs moving himself around the house: Just take her to dinner in a nice place

Porky upset: I-I can't do that! T-thats t-t-too ch-cheap a-and c-careless! It has to be something big! What did y-you for y-your anniversary w-with Lola?

Bugs with an annoyed and bored face: We went to dinner on a nice place.

Pory: O-oh...

Lola and Daffy make their way inside the house and go to rhe sofa without the groceries. Bugs looks at them in confusion while heads out of the house.

Bugs: I don't know porky! What does she like? Maybe you can do something she likes for your anniversary.

Porky full of excitement:O-oh! She loves roller coasters a-and-

Bugs happy to find a good idea: That's perfect! The Roller coasters fair is coming up this weekend!

Porky now worried: O-Oh...

Bugs confused: what?

Porky: I-I don't kn-know, I-Im scared of rolller coasters.

Bugs with a tired face: Oh boy...

Porky: I-I don't know Bugs,.I-I'll try t-t-to th-think on something else

Bugs: Okay Porks

They both hang up.

Bugs realices that all the groceries are inside the car and no one helped. He looks back at the house annoyed.

-Short black screen-

Bugs finising putting the groceries inside the kitchen

Bugs annoyed: I little help would have been nice

Daffy annoyingly watching the tv: Yeah, I agree, but the chófer wasted too much time parking and messed everything up!

Bugs rolls his eyes angrily but starts watching the show from the kitchen cause something called his attention.

Police off duty: (I forgot the name of the Chófer so I'll call him Frank) Frank! You really messed up, if you had been on time we wouldn't have stopped him!

Frank: (I also forgot the name of the police so I'll call him huh... P cause i think he was a police) I think you are under appreciating my help, P

P: Huh?

A close up begins on the Frank character as he says: I wake up and drive you whenever you call me, I'm always there on time and I never whine, we always catch the bag guys but this time since I was a little distracted with something. I don't mind doing these things for you but I'd certainly appreciate a little gratitude from you.

P: You are right Frank, I'm sorry

Now we can dee Bugs who is really surprised with how the episode went really well with the situation. Now Bugs looks at Daffy with a not surprised face.

Bugs: Does that ring any bells, Daffy?

Daffy frowns thinking.

Daffy: Hmmmn... Oh yeah! You forgot to buy these things from the grocerie store.

Daffy hands a list without even looking towards Bugs. Bugs with all hope lost rolls his eyes and sighs as he takes the list. Bugs starts heading out. (i think Lola could say something funny here to close the scene but I couldn't of what, i thought she could ask Bugs ro bring her something from the store or both, daffy and Lola called him simp at the same time when bugs left the house but idkk,tske any of those options)

-another short black screen??-

Bugs at the store with a shipping car and looking at the things he still need to get with a sort of tired sad face. From a distance a selling voice says: Are you tired from doing everything at home?! Are you tired of people always depending on you?! Are you tired of your clingy roommate who can't do anything by himself?!

Bugs half surprised and half confused: These things keep conveniently happening.

Bugs get closer to the place where the voice is. Its a small circus like local inside the shop. (Sort of where people read the future in fairs) (picture the character you want here cause idk)

Bugs peeks his head inside the local

Other character: Hi sr! Welcome! Any of these questions called your attention.

Bugs relaxed face comes up: Eeeeehh, just all of them.

Character: Oh! goddie! Or baddie! Or goddie I should say cause I have the solution- right here!

The character pulls out a weird looking chain clock. Bugs points at it half scared half confused.

Bugs: what's that?

Character: It's a clock for hypnosis! Anyone can use it!

Bugs looks confused.

Character: So with this clock you can hypnose other people to do what they never usually do! And finally have some rest.

Bugs still confused but amazed: And you are just selling this on the grocerie store?

The character annoyed: Ya want the clock or not?

Bugs pulling out his wallet: Eeeh, having the option wouldn't hurt.

-Tan tan!- BLACK SCREEN SONG BREAK OR COMMERCIAL BREAK OR SOMETHING??-

#the looney tunes show #script #bugs bunny #bugs x daffy #text post

[qqueenofhades]

It's so good to have you back! I actually went and got myself a tumblr account in the meantime, so now I can properly follow you instead of just lurking anonymously 😄 Don't have an actual prompt for you, although I saw that you've been watching shadow and bone, and I'd certainly love to read anything you write about those guys if you happen to feel like it 😇 In any case, welcome back, and it's great to hear that things are looking up for you ❤

Haha, thanks! Since you didn’t specify a prompt, and because people seem very excited about this Helnik modern AU that is, to nobody’s surprise, becoming a full-length fic, I will give you an excerpt from chapter one for Important Reasons.

Nina boots up the secured OS, opens Tor, and navigates to a secured messaging site, accessed via a one-time key that will deactivate when used (another one of Jesper’s inventions) and randomly generate a new encryption code that she has to access elsewhere. The Crows have gotten very good at not putting all their eggs in one basket, but when you run a successful grey-hat hacktivist collective that has made a specialty out of pissing off powerful people (including in this very country), it’s a necessary fact of life. There are five of them: Nina herself, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, and the boss, Kaz Brekker. It took a long time for them to reveal real names; for the first few years, they communicated only under pseudonyms. Nina is “Heartrender.” Inej is “Wraith.” Jesper is “Sharpshooter,” and Wylan is “Runaway.” As for Kaz, their mysterious, mercurial man-in-charge who was teaching himself C#, Java, and VBScript at twelve, running Nazi-doxxing ops with Anonymous and Bellingcat at sixteen, and establishing himself as the head of his own feared gang of cyber-criminals at eighteen, he’s “Dirtyhands” or sometimes simply “The Bastard.” The epithet is apt. You don’t survive in this life by making friends or trusting your enemies, and Kaz has a knack for not doing either. Not that Nina’s about to complain. God knows, especially now, she could use a little ruthlessness.

She signs onto the Crows’ dedicated chat channel and sends an innocuous-looking phrase about bad weather which actually means, “I am in deep shit and need to talk to someone right now.” Then she waits, staring at the screen, wondering how long it’ll take to be answered. Kaz and Inej are currently based in Amsterdam, an hour behind, which isn’t too bad. They’re probably awake, not least since neither of them keep a remotely standard schedule, but there are any number of other things they could be doing, most of which are flagrantly illegal. But it’s only ten minutes or so until Nina’s notifications ping, and a message pops up:

Wraith: I’ll call you. Give me a couple min.

Heartrender: Primary phone got snatched. Use burner.

Wraith: Oh shit. Nvm. Calling now.

With that, it’s no more than a few seconds until Nina’s burner phone starts buzzing, she fumbles a little as she grabs it, and tucks it under her ear. “Inej?”

“Nina?” Her best friend sounds understandably worried. “Are you all right? What’s going on?”

“I – ” Nina’s relatively sure that the FSB doesn’t have a fix on this crappy throwaway phone, since she changes the SIM card every month, gets a new number, and otherwise does her best to make sure they don’t, but deeply ingrained habits are not easily shaken. She shoots a glance at the door, making sure her parents aren’t listening. Finally, having been assured that this call is as free of outside interference as can ever be assured in the modern world, she says, “I got busted last night. Big time. They meant business.” There’s a quaver in her voice. She chokes it down.

“Oh Nina, no. Did they hurt you?”

“No, but they – like I said, they were not screwing around. They openly threatened to send me to IK-2 if I kept doing my stuff, and – I’m not giving up. You know I’m not. But it might… it might be time to get out of Russia for a while.”

“Where are you now? Are you safe?”

“At my parents’ house. My backup gear is here. But there’s no way I can work here. They don’t know the half of it, and if they did, they would hit the roof. I don’t have anywhere else I can think of, and…” Nina trails off. “Is there any way I can come to Amsterdam with you?”

“I don’t know.” Inej is clearly thinking hard. “The Crows aren’t exactly a registered company that can offer you a work visa. Kaz is Dutch, obviously, but he could probably only sponsor you for permanent settlement if he married you, and I doubt you want that – ”

“I doubt you want it either – ”

“I have right to remain, at least until Brexit goes through,” Inej says, evidently deciding to power right on past that comment and pretend she didn’t hear it. She and Kaz might be living together, and obviously devoted to each other, but they’re still not yet at the “actual relationship” stage of things, and for all Nina knows, they might never be. “Unless – wait.”

“What?”

“I was joking about Kaz marrying you,” Inej says slowly. “But what if it’s not such a bad idea?”

“What? No. I am not marrying Kaz!”

“Not him,” Inej says. “Someone else. Someone with a non-Russian passport who could theoretically get you out of there. It would be hard, and we’d have to do some work to make the relationship look real, but Jesper could help with whatever we needed forged. Have we ever mentioned Matthias Helvar to you?”

“Matthias who?”

“I’ll take that as a no. He’s another one of Kaz’s… contacts. Norwegian. We helped him get out of jail a year ago, and he owes us a big favor. He’s also stupidly honorable, unattached, and probably pathologically unable to resist helping a lady in distress.” To Nina’s horror or her hope, Inej sounds like she is actually considering this. “If he married you, he might – ”

“If he what? He was in jail?” Nina is aghast. “So he’s a criminal?”

“You know,” Inej says, bone-dry. “We’re all criminals.”

“Yes, but if he was in jail, that means he got caught, and that means he’s a stupid criminal. I could marry a criminal, but I draw the line at a stupid criminal.”

“He wasn’t – it was complicated.” Inej’s tone portends a very long story they definitely do not have time to get into. “Anyway, Kaz helped get him out, and he lives in Oslo now. You could do a lot worse than Norwegian spousal citizenship.”

“This is insane,” Nina says weakly. “Is he ugly? He must be ugly.”

“Really.” Despite the gravity of the situation, Inej is definitely trying not to laugh. “That’s your objection? For the record, no. He’s not ugly. He’s just your type.”

“Oh. Oh, like that’s any better. He can’t possibly be my type. Inej – ”

“Look,” Inej interrupts. “Do you want to get arrested or not?”

“No,” Nina says meekly. “No, I really don’t.”

“So should I ask him?”

This is nuts. This is nuts this is nuts this is nuts this is nuts. Especially since Nina genuinely is starting to play the idea around in her head. Just for a moment. That’s all.

“Maybe,” she says, after a very long pause. “But I am not necessarily agreeing to this.”

“Of course not.” Inej sounds annoyingly smug. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

#fic prompts #helnik #modern au #mykingdomcomeundone #ask

[littlesniggy]

Paranoia

This is a Dabi fanfic and it's way longer than anticipated and I don't know if you guys like it but it was on my mind the whole day and I kinda really wanted to write it. Hope you enjoy it.

Synopsis: Reader plays truth or dare and visits a website on the dark web. It goes all downhill from then on. Non-quirk AU.

Note: I have no idea how this whole thing with the dark web works so don't bother too much if it's wrong. Also, friends' reaction is a little weird but oh well. I'm also reeeeally bad with giving characters names so....yeah...you'll see.

Warning: Anxiety, mental abuse

Word count: 3.8k

It was a silly idea but you and your friends did this stupid truth or dare thing and now it was your turn. Since you’ve chosen truth the last time, now it had to be dare. One of your friends dared you to log into the Dark Web. You were confused since you had no idea on how you were supposed to do this. You were not really tech savvy nor have you been interested in visiting the deep, dark part of the internet before. But your friend assured you that he knew how to get access (how and why, you didn’t want to question) and that it was rather funny to see what kind of thing you could find there.

Reluctantly, you agreed, a mistake you would regret later. You opened your laptop, signed in and let you friend show you how to get access to a website on the Dark Web. Your other friends gathered around the two of you, watching with curiosity. “How do you know how to get in?” one of them wanted to know but he just shrugged, grinning to himself. “I got curious one day. Don’t worry.” He answered and the other cackled, taking another sip from their beer.

You weren’t so sure about this whole situation. Maybe it was because it was your laptop, maybe it was because you didn’t feel too keen on doing something ‘illegal’. Was it even illegal? Or was it just illegal to buy something from there? You had no idea. Nevertheless, was there a heavy lump in your stomach but you didn’t want to back down now.

He opened a link and a website opened. It didn’t look like much but it looked shady anyways. Your friends made wide eyes and pointed at a link and challenged you to open it. Your friend made room for you to sit in front of the screen, a huge grin on his face. “C’mon, Y/n! Open it!” they animated you and you gave in, clicking the link. A dark window opened with a chatroom. Messages popped up, a conversation between strangers.

You read the messages but didn’t do anything beyond it. “You need to say something, too!” your friends told you but you didn’t want to. “I don’t know…” you said but before you could say anything else one of them started typing. “Hey!” you yelled but were too late to push her away and prevent her from sending the short text.

I hope nothing shady’s going on here.

“Are you out of your mind? Why did you send that?” you demanded to know but she simple giggled. “Relax. It’s not like they’re gonna take this seriously.” Another one said but her eyes were glued to the screen, anticipating an answer. But there was none – at least not to your message. Instead, they went on with their conversation which was kind of boring to read. “Maybe this is just a normal website and he is just messing with us.” “Hey! This website is legit! I once saw one asking for child pornography!” he defended himself but the others were not convinced. “Sure. Let’s get goin’. It’s your turn with truth or dare anyways, Dai-chan.”

He mumbled to himself, annoyed that they didn’t believe him that this site was legit but let it go and put an arm around his girlfriend, moving back to the sofa with her, others following. Your eyes were still glued to the screen and you were about to close the window and forget about the who thing, when a small window popped up. It simply read:

Hope you join us again.

It’s been two weeks since you and your friends had this truth or dare night and after you closed the website and shut the laptop close the night went on pleasantly. You forgot about this whole ‘Dark Web’ and moved on with your life, by now also convinced Daisuke was messing with you guys.

You were sitting in class, listening to the professor talk about the history of capitalism, it’s pros and cons but you were barely listening. You were way more interested in this episode of “Haikyuu!!” your friend introduced you to and since then you were hooked. You listened to it with your earphones, not bothering to cover it up. You were emotionally completely invested in the game when a small window popped up, indicating a chat request. You had no idea which website this was coming from and ignored it, clicked the small ‘x’ and kept watching the episode.

A couple minutes later another message; this time you got curious. The website you were watching the episode at was none of those shady websites where half naked women were advertising for some porn website and women who were ‘less than a mile away’. So, this should be something different. A little hesitantly, you opened the chat box and a window opened, revealing a black screen with two bubbles – the two messages that had been sent before.

Hi.

You never came back.

You were confused and locked around the room. Everyone was either looking at their laptops, writing something down or flat out sleeping with their heads on the table. No one was looking your way.

Who are you?

It didn’t take long for the person to answer.

Are you bored?

He completely ignored your question but before you could type in a reply another message popped up.

Or why else would you be watching an anime during class?

You stopped dead in your tracks and stared at the screen. Your eyes darted around the room once again, you even turned around but no one was looking at you, not even a small glance. This must be a joke you thought to yourself and you gave a small huff.

Stop it, Daisuke. You can’t freak me out again.

No reply. Satisfied, you smiled to yourself and closed the window again, making a mental note to slap the shit out of him later.

“Why would you send me those creepy messages?!” you confronted Daisuke and he raised his hands in defense, confusion plastered all over his face. “What’re you talking about?” he wanted to know, his girlfriend holding on to his arm, looking similarly confused. “You sent me those creepy messages during class, didn’t you?” He chuckled nervously but shook his head no. “What messages are you talking about? He was with me the whole time.” She defended him and you huffed, not convinced. “Sure. You had your fun but please, don’t do this again. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

When you got back to your apartment, you took out your keys, unlocked the door, opened it and locked it behind you again. You were a little paranoid since you’ve moved here, a lot of break-ins happened in the neighborhood over the last couple of months. To top it all off, you lived on the first floor, easy access to your apartment from the sidewalk. But it was cheap and one of the few places you could actually afford with your crappy job.

Your shoes flew across the hallway and you made your way over to the small kitchen, checking for anything edible but to no surprised it was empty. A sigh left your mouth, not wanting to go out again and get something to eat. So, pizza delivery should do for tonight, even though it would be the third night in a row.

When the pizza finally arrived you sat yourself in front of your TV and watched some random series, not actually interested in the content itself but you needed the background noise to start your assignment later.

Your phone screen lit up, indicating a new message. You grabbed your phone but dropped it once your read the message. Your heart started racing, threatening to either burst out your chest or stop beating completely. Your body got cold and you started to shiver.

Do you like watching that shit?

You put the piece of pizza away and got up, storming from window to window, looking outside and the closing the curtains once you made sure no one was there. You stalked back to the sofa and picked up your phone from the floor, reading the message again. Surely, this had to be a joke, right? Your friends were just messing with you, right?

You opened the text with trembling fingers. You didn’t know the number that was displayed on top of the message. Maybe Daisuke bought a sim card just to scare you? But why would he do that? He wasn’t the type to do this, especially since his girlfriend would reprimand him for doing that.

Who are you?

Not a minute later you got a reply.

You can call me Dabi.

Dabi? Obviously, a fake name but you wouldn’t ask him for his real name. Hell, you didn’t want to answer him at all again and were tempted to just block this number. But the next message flew right in.

How you doin’?

Did he really try to do small talk?

Stop messaging me!

And that was it. No messages anymore. Maybe it was one of your friends after all. Still, the anxiety still remained.

In the middle of the night you woke up to your phone vibrating, the bright screen blinding you. You pressed your eyes together and opened them again, trying to recognize the number that was calling you at this ungodly hour. When your eyes got used to the brightness you looked at the scree – unknown number. Annoyed, you put the phone aside again and were relieved when it finally stopped ringing. The room turned dark again and you closed your eyes, ready to fall asleep again.

Your phone screen lit up once more, this time another text. You didn’t bother checking it and fell asleep instead, being consumed by complete darkness until the next morning when your alarm went off.

You didn’t check your phone until you sitting in a seat on the bus, surrounded by strangers who were on their ways to work as well. The small red symbol indicated a voice mail. You dialed the number to your voicemail and waited until the automatic announcement signalized the new voice mail. You tried to hear anything but there was just the rush of wind and a faint breathing. Then it was over. Confused, you deleted it, thinking it must’ve been an accident. But your mind wandered back to the night before and the texts. You checked the number from the texts and the one from the voicemail.

You could see the number that was used to text you but not the one from the missed call and the voicemail. So, you had no proof that it was the same number. It made you feel uneasy nevertheless.

What were you looking for?

The message came out of nowhere. The same number as last night. Why? Why was that person texting you? Hadn’t you made it clear that you wanted to be left alone?

Leave me alone.

It’s dangerous on those websites. Ye never know what people you might encounter.

You snorted. Yeah, people like you.

Like you?

It was bold of you to answer but by this point you were more annoyed by that person than scared. How fast your feelings could change…

Like me? I’m pretty harmless.

A short pause before another text came in.

What were you looking for?

He asked again, not leaving it alone. You were about to type in an answer when you stopped. Why didn’t you question it before? Why didn’t you question some stranger suddenly starting to chat you up on the dark web and not long after continued to text you on your phone? It clicked and you chuckled like someone who had just solved a mystery.

Good try but I know it’s you, Daisuke. Quit making up fake names.

You got off the bus and felt your phone vibrate.

What makes you think I’m Daisuke?

You shook your head in disbelief. Why was he keeping this act up? He was there when you entered this website, he was there when your friend sent this message to the group chat and he probably also saw the private message you got before closing the window.

Stop it already. I don’t trust the others doing that shit and you were there when we went on that stupid side. You just want to scare me.

No reply. Now, I’ve got you finally!

Would you believe me if I told you I’m not Daisuke?

This was getting ridiculous.

Please, just leave me alone. I’m about to start work. See you tonight and you better not text me again from this number. It’s getting annoying.

You were invited to a party at night, all of your friends were going as well. You were tired from work but didn’t want to miss out on the fun. You got ready at home. Tight jeans, a cute shirt and pumps – subtle but not too prude. You did your make-up in a cute but sexy way, highlighting your eyes and putting on lipstick. Content with your outfit you left the apartment once your friend’s car showed up, locking the door twice.

“Why would you keep texting me?!” you yelled at Daisuke when you met him at the party. He was making out with his girl, both already drunk. “What?” his eyes were unfocused when you hold your phone screen up in his face. He squinted his eyes to read the texts before he started chuckling. “Why woulddi texxxt you somethn’ like that?” he slurred, a derpy smile on his lips. Frustrated, you threw your hands in the air and stomped off, annoyed by this whole shenanigan. But okay, you would prove that it was him!

You walked off to the side where it was quieter, eyes on Daisuke and his girlfriend, and called the number from the text. It rang twice before someone picked up.

You froze in place. Daisuke was not holding his phone. Rather the opposite; his hands were occupied with moving under his girl’s shirt, groping her breasts shamelessly.

You didn’t dare speak up, a huge lump in your throat. You heard a slow breath from the other side of the phone but nothing more.

“You havin’ fun at the party, Y/n?”

You screamed and dropped your phone, clutching your hands together, bringing them up to your face. Your whole body trembled and you stared at the bright phone screen, the time counting up, indicating the still active call. A few people were looking at you bewildered but didn’t seem to care too much.

Slowly, you picked up the phone again, bringing it back to your ear.

“No need to scream.”

A dark chuckle resonated trough the phone. It sounded amused but it was more than unnerving.

“W-who are you?” You asked with a meek voice. You pressed your back to the wall behind you for support but unable to just hang up the phone.

“Rude to just forget someone’s name. Didn’t take you as this type of girl.”

Dabi, that was his name, you remembered.

“H-how did you get my number?” you demanded to know, insecurity almost oozing out of your voice. Another chuckle, this time a little more sinister.

“You really wanna know?”

Did you? Probably not, but you still answered yes.

“Not gonna tell ya.”

There was another pause before he started speaking again.

“The jeans look good on you. Turn around so I can take a better look.”

Your knees gave in and you started crying, phone clutching in your hand but not able to end the call. The people around you started to look worried and got closer, asking if you were okay.

“You’re usually not supposed to cry when receiving a compliment. You’re supposed to say ‘thank you’. Can you say thank you, Y/n?”

“Leave me alone!” you yelled at the phone and threw it across the room. It smashed against the opposite wall and you saw the screen go black. You pressed your knees against your chest, tears running down your face. Who was this man? Why was he watching you?

Your friends rushed over, worry written all over their faces. “Y/n! Y/n! What’s wrong?” they asked, some of them stroking your back but you couldn’t pull yourself together. The music had stopped and a cluster of people had formed around you.

“Someone is watching me…” you whispered so only your friends could hear. One of them grabbed your phone from the opposite wall and walked over towards you, phone in hand and ready to hand it to you.

“I don’t think it’s broken. You can probably just start it again.” He said and hold it out for you to grab. Hesitantly, you grabbed it but didn’t turn it on.

“C-can you just drive me home, please?” you asked your friend with teary eyes and shaky voice. Concerned, she nodded and helped you up. Some of them insisted on staying with you but you said no. You just wanted to barricade yourself in your apartment and only leave when it was bright outside again.

On your way home you turned on your phone but there were no new messages. But you were far from feeling relieved. Only once you were home and locked every door, every window and hid under your blanket would you feel somewhat safe again. But not right now, not when you were outside and still visible for anyone to see.

“I need to stop at the gas station real quick. You can wait here.” Your friend said and pulled up next to the entrance. She probably wanted to buy some cigarettes. You stayed in the car when your phone vibrated once again. Tears formed in your eyes again; you felt hopeless when you slowly opened the message. There was a picture. It was dark but there was light in the distance. You looked closer and recognized the place.

Without thinking you jumped out the car and started running. You knew you were close to your home, not too far away. You heard your friend call from the distance but you didn’t stop, just ran straight into the forest next to the station which would eventually lead you right to your home. Sticks scratched against your skin, thick roots of trees made you stumble but you always caught yourself.

Your phone started ringing and you could see that it was your friend calling. But you didn’t answer. Instead, you kept on running until you could see houses in the distance. Almost. Just a couple hundred yards.

You crossed the street, fumbling with your keys and needing more than one attempt to unlock the door, looking over your shoulder over and over again to make sure that there wasn’t anyone here.

Tears blurred your vision but finally you managed to unlock your apartment door and closed it right behind you, locking it as often as you could. Before you could feel at least some sort of relief you ran to the windows, checked if they were closed and closed the curtains. Then, and only then did you sink to the floor, starting to sob uncontrollably. Why was this happening? What have you done to deserve this? It was just a stupid dare, why is he targeting me?

A small buzzing sound led your focus to your phone. You didn’t want to look but you had to, regretting it instantaneously. A moan of agony made its way out of the depth of your body. You didn’t want to answer but your hand moved on its own.

“Glad you made it home safely.”

“FUCK OFF! I’M GONNA CALL THE POLICE!!!” you screamed, sure you woke up some of the other residents. Good, you thought. The more people awake the more likely it was that he didn’t do anything funny. His tone changed.

“No, you won’t.” he sounded self-assured, as if he knew exactly how you would behave.

“Cause if you do I have to hurt you.” He said it as if he was talking about the weather, nonchalantly.

“Y-You said you were harmless.” You argued, sounding pathetic. You crawled over the floor to the furthest corner of the room where you could watch the door to your apartment.

“Did I?”

He sounded musing as if he tried to remember.

“Guess it was a lie then.”

“What do you want?” you pleaded but you didn’t get an answer to your question.

“Are you sure you locked the door?”

The sudden question had you widen your eyes. Have you? Of course! It was the first thing you did! But did you really lock it?

“Maybe you should check it.”

You didn’t want to. Maybe he was standing right in front of your door, waiting for you to open it. But what if you didn’t lock the door? Anxiety took over your thinking and you crawled over to the door, checking the handle. Relieve filled your body when you realized it was, indeed, locked.

“Guess you locked it after all. Do you have your keys?”

Keys? You looked up at the small table where you usually kept your keys. No keys. Dread filled you and you wanted to curl up into a ball. Was he in your apartment? Your heard him chuckle again.

“Don’t worry. I don’t have your keys. You probably dropped them somewhere.”

Your eyes wandered over the floor and there they were, next to the bathroom door. How they got there was beyond you but you couldn’t care less. They were there and that was all that mattered.

“Leave me alone. Please!” a high pitched voice you didn’t recognize as your own echoed through the apartment.

“Leave me alone.”

He mocked you.

“But okay. I will leave you alone. If you can tell me where I am right now.”

It clicked and he had hung up. Your head shot up and you looked around. He was in here! You knew it! Or was he messing with you? But how did he know where your keys were? He could’ve guessed. But you should’ve been able to hear him if he actually was in your apartment. He just wanted to make you more and more paranoid.

You got up, knees weak and barely supporting your body weight. Fear clung to your body like a second skin and you tried to keep your mind from racing a thousand miles a minute by telling yourself that he was bluffing. Still, you moved from room to room, turning on the lights and checking every single room.

No one in sight. He’s not here. You felt a burden fall off your back and relief flooded your senses instead. He was just bluffing.

You slowly calmed down but didn’t go to bed until you couldn’t keep your eyes open again. You were almost asleep when your phone vibrated on the night stand. You were too tired to open the message and instead drifted into a dreamless sleep.

You forgot to check the closet.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi imagine #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #non-quirk AU

[mischiefandi]

My Home - Drake Walker

A/N: hi everyone! This is the fic I wrote for @riseandshinelittleblossom ‘s Quote Me On This writing challenge! Thank you Steph for organizing this and for letting me participate on such short notice <33 I hope you guys enjoy it. (the quote I had to use is in bold). I always wished MC got a backstory in TRR, so here is a potential one

Warnings: mentions of gun violence, theft, crime, alcoholism, foster care, jail, etc. I would like to disclaim that I know these themes are very difficult for a lot of people so I want to make it clear that I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone who can somehow relate to this story. This is a dark and angsty fic and I don’t mean to offend or hurt anyone who reads this. Reader discretion is advised.  

Word Count: 3.1K

Pairing: Drake Walker & Iris Jones (MC TRR)

Ringing. Dozens of cellphones buzzing in luxurious purses and warm pockets, an array of ring tones echoing throughout the ballroom, and shocked gasps and quiet curses followed suit, a great number of nobles turning their heads to gawk at Iris. Her face was pale with worry as she nudged Maxwell in the ribs, her eyes darting from duke to duchess.

“What’s going on?” she asked in a hushed tone and her question was answered with a big gulp, a cell phone being pushed in her direction.

Time stopped when she laid her eyes on the article on the screen, the earth shattering words hitting her in the face like a pack of bricks.

NY Thief Turned Duchess of Valtoria, the shocking details of Duchess Iris Jones’ past:

The ballroom started to spin, the faces surrounding her all blending into one big cloud of color and the whispers tripled in volume. Iris couldn’t believe what she had just read, the memories flooding back to her. Somehow, her past had caught up with her, just like she had always known it would.

Her eyes desperately searched the crowd for her friends, the ones she had hoped would never find out about her deepest and darkest secret. Hana’s brow was furrowed in confusion and Maxwell’s face turned paler than the Lythikos snow. Iris’ eyes met Liam’s hurt and bewildered stare and her heart shattered, the darkness of the situation settling in. She had broken his trust, as well the others’. Now, they all knew who she really was. And what an unfortunate reality it was.

Her initial shock slowly turned to anger as she bit back her tears, her blood boiling. Someone had uncovered her past life and had tried to use it against her, sabotaging her reputation once again, publicly humiliating her in front of the court. Someone was still out to get her, after all of this time and all of her hard work. And this time, maybe that someone had finally won.

“Iris,” a voice called out, and her head snapped in its direction, lips parted in anticipation as she finally met Drake’s gaze. He stood a few feet away from her, eyes completely focused on hers. His arms rested along his sides, fists clenched but his expression utterly unreadable. She kept looking at him, tears finally spilling over her lids, unable to control her anguish as she faced her lover. She didn’t care about the court, not really. All she cared about was him, and she had lied to him about it all. The man she loved more than anything in the world, her everything.

The moment was abruptly interrupted when a pair of gruff hands wrapped themselves around her upper arms, gripping tightly at her gentle skin as she was dragged off by members of the Royal Guard, and her first instinct was to fight them off, trying to push them away but in vain.

“Stop. I can explain, let me go!” she grunted, emotion tainting her words as she tried to get out of the guards’ custody.

The crowd gasped as they dragged her away from where she had been standing, walking over to the grand ornate doors of the ballroom.

Iris’ eyes met Liam’s again and she mouthed the words: “I’m sorry” before looking back at Drake. He was pushing people out of the way, cursing and shouting at the other guards trying to keep him away from his fiancée.

“Let me through. Goddamnit, let me pass!” he exclaimed gruffly, almost shoving a guard to the ground.

A series of shouts and voices calling out Iris’ name were swallowed by darkness as the doors closed in front of her. She let out a strangled sob, unable to contain the panic building up inside of her. She couldn’t believe what had just occurred. It had all happened so fast. The moment had been over in a flash, but she kept reliving it, over and over again as the guards dragged her to her palace bedroom.

“What am I going to do?” she thought to herself.

Iris had spent hours in her room, the guards standing behind the door. She had paced up and down the room for what now seemed like an eternity, time ticking by so slowly she could’ve sworn it was the next day if it weren’t for the pitch black sky behind the tall glass windows of the bedroom. She had also curled up into a ball on her bed and sobbed, face hidden away in the palm of her hands, unable to control the waves of distraught that had washed over her at the ball. Now, she sat on her bed, bloodshot eyes fixated on the floor as she bit through four of her fingernails, foot anxiously tapping against the floor while her anxiety levels rose higher.

No one had come to talk to her yet, and she couldn’t even tell if that was a good thing. Maybe she was staying at court, maybe she’d be stripped from her newly given title, maybe she’d be shipped back to New York where she belonged. Maybe.

She was terrified.

What scared her most wasn’t losing Cordonia. It was losing Drake. She had never imagined she would ever find someone like him to protect her and love her the way he did. She had always just thought she’d end up unloved and alone, but he had seen something in her no one else had ever even noticed, something even she couldn’t see, and she thanked the universe every day for it. She had found a home in him, but now, maybe she was going to lose that too. And it was all her fault.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by an angry voice and the sounds of footsteps tapping against the marble floor of the palace, volume increasing as it got closer and closer to the bedroom door.

“Move aside and let me in. Now.” Iris heard and her heart throbbed as she recognized Drake.

A polite “no” could be heard, followed by a quiet but stern voice speaking.

“You will let him pass. This man should be granted the opportunity to speak to his fiancée.”

Liam.

Finally, the door opened and Iris shot up in a flash, hands curled up into fists, furious but anguished, ready to defend herself if need be.

Her heart swelled at the sight of her fiancé standing in the doorway. He seemed to be shaking in his wrinkled suit, either from anger or fear, and the look on his face turned the blood in her veins to ice, her lungs clenching as she tried to speak.

“Drake, I-“ she tried to say when he bolted towards her, closing the distance between them and throwing his arms around her, pulling her into a warm and desperate embrace.

“-I don’t care. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter,” he declared intensely as he tightened his hold on her, heart beating uncontrollably and she broke down in sobs.

“It does matter. I have to tell you-“

“-No, you don’t,” he insisted as he looked at her. His heart broke a little at the sight of the fat tears rolling down her cheeks and he placed a comforting kiss on her forehead. Iris let out a shaky breath before finally breaking the embrace. She took a step back and avoided his gaze, instead staring at the floor in embarrassment. She did have to explain, if only to make sure he knew the whole truth and not just the story the tabloids were trying to sell.

“You might wanna sit down for this,” she said, gesturing to the bed. Drake followed her hand and frowned as he placed himself on the edge of the mattress.

“Jones, I don’t need to hear this.”

“Maybe, but I need to know I told you everything.”

She sat next to him, still avoiding his stare and fidgeted with her dress, her long trembling fingers twisting the silk fabric into a small ball just above her knees. This was it. After all this time, she was finally going to open up about her past. This disturbing reality shook her to her core.

“What is it?” Drake asked, watching her fingers shake.

“I’m afraid that when I tell you, you won’t see me the same way anymore.”

Drake reached out to hold her hands in his, tentatively caressing them with his thumb in soothing circles.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered and she squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear rolling down her cheek and landing on her burgundy-colored dress.

“Okay,” she simply said before turning to him.

“My mom got pregnant with me when she was really young, around 19 years old. I didn’t grow up with a dad because he left her when he found out. It was just the two of us in a crappy apartment in the Bronx. My mom was really depressed and she started drinking a lot. She barely even seemed to notice that I was around,” Iris said before sucking in a breath, pausing for a few seconds before resuming her story.

“She left when I was 14. I got home from school one day and she wasn’t home. I waited but she never came back. I tried to hide it but it didn’t take long before I was put in the system and I became a foster kid. I kept running away from my foster homes ‘cus they all sucked. Half of my foster families couldn’t remember my name and they were all assholes anyway.”

“I’m sorry,” Drake muttered, the frown on his face intensifying. No one should have to endure those things, least of all her.

“I-,” she started, before inhaling slowly. “It is what it is. But growing up alone and afraid all the time, I just had a lot of unresolved issues. I ended up meeting a boy. He was good to me at first, made me feel like I was special, like I was the most important thing in his life. I thought I loved him, because I had never known anything else. He was a drinker, just like my mom, and he knew all sorts of people, all involved in shady business. He never really gave me any details about what his friends did, but I knew that something wasn’t right.”

“What was his name?” Drake croaked, heart pumping steadily like the calm before a storm.

“His name was Ty. One day, we were talking and he told me he wanted us to get married. We were gonna run away together and start a life somewhere new, far away from New York. We just needed to some money to get started. I trusted him, so when he told me his plan, I was naïve enough to believe him. I never should’ve.

“The plan was simple enough. We were gonna steal liquor from the bar he and his friends used to go to. The bottles were pretty expensive so we were gonna sell them and use the money to leave before we could even get caught. But something went wrong,” Iris said, her voice wobbling slightly.

Her pulse was quickening by the minute as she remembered the scene, memories flooding back in her mind. She was sweating and trembling, voice completely clouded by a veil of emotion. It was getting harder and harder to keep her cool. This was the part that was going to change everything, the part that would destroy all the things she had worked so hard to get.

“The bar was closed. He used a crowbar to smash the window of the back door and opened the lock from the inside. It was just me and him. We grabbed the most expensive bottles and put them in big duffel bags. But then he told me he was gonna empty the register. I told him it wasn’t a good idea but he didn’t listen, and he started to shout at me, telling me to wait in the storage room with all of the bar supplies. I was terrified, so I did what he told me and I stayed in the back room with the bags full of the stuff we had stolen when I heard a shout and the sound of something smashing.”

Iris’ breathing became erratic and she almost wheezed as she tried to continue telling her story.

“I dropped the bags and ran inside of the barroom, and he was there, holding a gun to the owner’s head. I don’t know when the owner got there or what happened before I came in the room but he was screaming, pleading for his life. I couldn’t believe what was going on, I didn’t even know Ty owned a gun. The owner’s face was bloody, like he had just been beaten up. I couldn’t recognize the look on Ty’s face. Like he was proud of what he had done. It scared me to my core.

“Then I heard sirens coming from a distance and I knew that if we didn’t leave straight away, the police would catch us and we’d never be able to leave and do what he had promised me we would do together. He looked at me and smiled, and suddenly I felt like maybe It was going to be okay.

“He raised his arm towards the ceiling and shot at it. The sound of the gunshot completely blindsided me and I covered my head with my arms. Bits of the ceiling started to come down on us. I thought Ty had done it to distract the owner or something so we could get away. But when I opened my eyes, he was gone and the gun was at my feet.”

Iris exhaled a shaky breath before looking back down at her feet, tears cascading down her flushed cheeks as she cried out.

“The police came in and arrested me on the spot for armed robbery. I quickly realized Ty had used me. He didn’t care about the liquor bottles, all he wanted was the cash from the register. He took all of it. And he left me there to take the fall so he could get out. He didn’t care about me. I was just a stupid teenage girl who’d been naïve enough to trust him.”

Drake’s eyes were wide with shock and he let go of Iris’ hands, passing his fingers through his hair as he tried to process what he had just heard. This made her heart break.

“What happened next,” he inquired, voice steady but quiet.

“I don’t know why but the owner didn’t press charges against me. I still had a court date but apparently there wasn’t enough evidence to suggest that I had had a big enough part in the burglary to go to an actual juvenile detention center. Instead they sent me to some sort of group home for young delinquents which was basically juvie but I didn’t have a record at least. It was hell.

“I did my best to fly under the radar and eventually when I turned 18, I had another court date. They decided I wouldn’t have to go to jail and I was free to go. I left the group home and tried to look for a job. I just wanted to get as far away from that part of my life as possible. I worked as a waitress in a tiny bar and I eventually made enough money to move to Queens in a small apartment just for me. I changed my name and got a new job at another bar, made a few friends, moved on. I became tough, but at least I had gotten out of that place. Ended up working at this new bar for 6 years, until you came in, and my entire world was turned upside down.”

Drake grunted approvingly, eyes locked on the floor beneath his feet. Everything he had just learned was unbelievable. Iris had never told him about her past, only small details, things that seemed normal without the context he had just been granted.

He knew she loved her mom’s mac & cheese as a kid, but he hadn’t known it was because her mom never made anything else. He knew Iris was an avid fan of Queens, but he had never realized it was because it had been her first real home. He knew she was tough as nails, but he had never understood where her immense strength came from.

A sudden urge to hold her washed over him and he instantly pulled her into a warm and protective embrace, the act taking Iris by surprise. Her eyes were wide with shock and she gasped, her heart rapidly beating against her ribs.

“You don’t hate me?” she cried, unable to contain the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

“Hate you?” Drake asked. He pulled away just enough to look her deep in the eyes, sending her a warm look as he smiled softly.  

“I saw that you were perfect and so I loved you. Then I saw that you were not perfect and I loved you even more,” he said softly.

Iris’ heart throbbed and she cried in her lover’s arms, relief spreading over her in an overwhelming wave.

Never in a million years had she thought she would find someone who could love her unconditionally the way he did. She had just told him about her entire past, every sordid little thing about the person she had once been, the person she had despised for so long. But if he could find a way to forgive her, maybe she could learn to forgive herself too. Iris held him tightly, thanking her lucky stars for giving her a home like this one.

After a few minutes of peace and quiet in each other’s arms, Iris looked up at Drake, a frown spreading on her beautiful face.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. How do I fix this?” she asked.

Her lover look down at her and smiled.

“I don’t know, but we’ll find a way…together.”

And eventually, they did.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed my fic! ty for reading :)  feedback is always appreciated!!

if you would like to be added to my taglist(s), feel free to fill in this form

Drake tag:

@glaimtruelovealways @texaskitten30

Forever tag:

@stixnstripesworld @masterofbluff @drakewalker04 @superapplepie

Challenge tag:

@riseandshinelittleblossom @leelee10898 @ao719 @darley1101 @theroyalweisme @bobasheebaby@texaskitten30 @batgirlassociationofgothamcity @burnsoslow @drethanramslay(reader)@openhearttv@candy72008 @bebepac @twinkle-320 @h3llostrang3r @lucy-268 @dcbbw@oofchoices @blackcoffee85 @anotherbeingsworld @walkerswhiskeygirl @twinkleallnight@trappedinfandoms @hopefulmoonobject@losingbraincellseveryday @god-save-the-keen@loveellamae @axwalker @speedyoperarascalparty

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #drake walker x oc #drake walker fanfiction #choices #pb #pixelberry #choices you play #play choices #drake walker trr #the royal romance #trr #v writes #angst #depression #alcoholism #theft #crime #jail #prison #trigger warning #reader discretion #extreme angst? #gun violence #mentions of violence #reader discretion advised #this is angsty as fuck #quote me on this challenge

[masquerade-story]

Chapter 4 - Memories

Lillian awoke late into the evening, after everyone collectively agreed to take a nap and process everything Crystal told them. Her throat was dry and scratchy, so she carefully rolled out of bed to avoid disturbing Grey, who'd crawled into her bed for comfort like he always did when he was upset, and padded quietly out of the bedroom.

Since there wasn't going to be any sort of heating bill, they'd left the mysteriously working heater on to combat the unexpectedly cold weather. Lillian stopped by a window to peek outside, and was momentarily startled when she could pick out individual leaves on distant trees.

"Right, our vision got all fancy." Lillian laughed softly at herself, turning her gaze from the trees to the starry sky.

An unfamiliar sky.

Three moons scattered across the horizon, a couple of planets close enough for their rings to be distinct to the naked eye, and a brilliant aurora ribbon streaming across more stars than Lillian ever remembered seeing when she looked up back on Earth.

"There's no North Star," she whispered to herself, her warm breath briefly melting some frost on the window glass. "Different constellations, different horoscopes... I wonder how long a year is here? Or a season? Can we... Even communicate with people to find out?"

An oppressive sense of loneliness settled in her chest. Lillian blinked back a few tears and turned away from the window, resuming her earlier mission of a glass of juice. She slipped downstairs into the kitchen, drank an entire glass, and went to bring her second cup upstairs in case she woke up again, when a soft sound caused her to pause mid-step toward the stairs.

Sobbing. Wretched, mournful sobbing, from the living room which currently had no light on.

Lillian felt her heart clench in sympathy, and changed route.

Rayne sat on the couch, curled into the corner with a blanket around her shoulders and a phone in her hands. She glanced up when Lillian approached, hurriedly dashing her tears with the corner of the blanket. "H-hey, what's up?"

Lillian had the sense to put her juice cup down on an end table before sitting heavily on the couch, encroaching on Rayne's personal space with reckless abandon. "I was gonna ask you the same thing. Why are you down here alone in the dark?"

"Oh, I..." Rayne muttered, her gaze flicking back to the phone. Lillian glanced down, and saw a photo of Rayne and her boyfriend trying on mouse hats during their trip to Disneyworld. His expression was exasperated, but his affectionate gaze was fixed on Rayne's laughing face.

Rayne locked her screen and set the phone down, but it was too late and she knew it. She retreated further into the warmth of her blanket, faking a shiver to cover the fact she was trying to hide her face.

Neither Rayne nor Crystal appreciated it when other people saw them cry, but Lillian knew that it was sometimes exactly what someone needed, whether they wanted it or not. So she leaned on Rayne's shoulder, resting a gentle hand on the other woman's knee.

"You know," Lillian said softly, closing her eyes. "There's three moons."

Rayne was quiet for a moment. Then she sniffled, before whispering: "Really?"

"Yeah. And some ringed planets, and an aurora. Wanna see?"

The bundle of blanket shook in a hesitant nod, and both Lillian and Rayne moved to sit on the window seat overlooking the front yard, keeping throw pillows between them and the frozen glass to seal in their bodily warmth.

Silence stretched on between them as they stared together at the foreign night sky. Whenever Rayne gave a soft cry or pained whimper, Lillian reached over to squeeze her hand without turning to look at her, giving the other woman a measure of privacy while still providing comfort until she was ready to talk.

"It's unfair," Rayne whispered finally, reaching out of the blanket to draw a frowning face on the frosty glass.

Lillian nodded. "It ate our bonds so they all forgot us, but we still have to remember them? It's totally unfair."

"Actually..." Rayne looked over, locking gazes with Lillian, her dark brow furrowed. "That's the thing. Lils, do you remember your parents?"

"Of course. Robin and Larry-"

"Their faces, Lils."

Lillian opened her mouth, then immediately shut it. Her curious expression turned to one of realization, then panic suffused with horror. "No, I... What...?"

"I don't remember his face if I'm not looking at the photo," Rayne said, crossing her arms tightly under the blanket. "I don't remember his voice anymore. I did at first, but... Every passing moment, it's harder to remember the times we shared. The bad, the good. Even while looking at the photos! And I just... I felt like I should have a good cry, while I still felt enough lingering emotion for him to do it."

Lillian felt as though her heart was caught in her throat. She swallowed, swallowed again, then wheezed as she tried to remember how to breathe. Rayne hurriedly wrapped her arms around Lillian's shoulder, squeezing tight in a hug that contained all her comfort and sympathy.

"We'll do everything we can to remember, them, okay?" Rayne whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "Let's go wake Grey and Crystal, then we can all start writing stuff down. Alright?"

Nodding, Lillian clung desperately to Rayne's hand as they both hurried upstairs, rolling their respective siblings out of bed for an emergency meeting. Grey's horror was contrasted starkly by Crystal's numb nodding, as she apologized for not realizing it would happen. They dug into the boxes of personal belongings, finding some notebooks and pens, and sat together in the master bedrooms writing down everything they remembered about Earth and their loved ones until well into the next morning.

"On the one hand it's a mercy," Grey said sleepily, as he doodled another picture of his parents in the margins of his notebook. "So we won't be grieving our loss very long, I guess? But it still feels..."

"Wrong," Lillian mumbled, looking through her phone for a picture of her cat to use as a reference.

"It's not like the time was wasted," Rayne said, adding another bullet point to the list she was writing. "Our experiences shaped who we are whether we remember them or not. It does feel pretty crappy, though..."

"I wonder, will they forget us like this?" Lillian asked, unable to stop the words in her heart from escaping. Her hand paused above the page, the pen in her hand shaking violently. "Will they just... Slowly forget us? Or was it sudden and merciful? Because this... This is cruel."

"Cruelty implies intention," Crystal said softly, her voice shaking almost as much as Lillian's pen. "That... Thing. The Eater. It didn't have any malice, it was just hungry. But I dunno if that makes things better or worse..."

"I dunno man, you ever seen a cat catching prey? Pretty sure eating something alive has some inherent malice in it." Grey grumbled, trying to force his chicken scratch handwriting into something legible.

Crystal, who'd already given up on her own handwriting and embraced the chaotic glyphic nature of her lettering, nodded sagely in agreement. "That's true. I got the impression the Eater wasn't exactly sentient or sapient though. More like a force than a being, if that makes sense? Or maybe I just can't conceive of it, since that thing exists outside our dimensions of understanding."

"You say that so easily, do you even know how wild that whole statement was?"

"Do you even know how wild this whole situation is?"

"Look, we've passed absurdity at this point. Now I'm just down with whatever weirdness comes our way."

"We don't have to pay bills anymore," Rayne said slowly, staring at her paper. Her handwriting was the neatest by far, and she'd finished writing down most important events she could think of, but she kept having a nagging feeling she'd left something out so she kept reading the pages over and over hoping to trigger another memory. "We won't have to buy groceries unless there's things we want specifically that wasn't in our house to begin with. The electricity will never go out, damage to the property will be repaired, and even though we're in a new world with unknown levels of development and technology, we will never have to worry about toilet paper. In exchange for a very comfortable standard of living, we lost our connection to our home and families."

"Personally speaking I think it's fair," Crystal said with a scoff. "But that's because our family sucks so I'll be glad to forget them. All my most important people are here with me! I know Robin and Larry will take good care of all our cats, my exes all sucked, and my other friends will get along just fine without me. I don't have anyone to worry about, just regrets for stuff I never got to do. Like visiting the Grand Canyon, or going on a long cruise."

"I wanted to hike around Europe someday..." Rayne said wistfully.

"I wanted to vacation in the tropics. Or maybe Spain? For like, two years. With some hot guys and infinite fruity alcohols." Grey said, staring off into space with a dreamy look in his eyes.

"I wanted to be famous enough for us to visit the space station," Lillian sighed. Grey snorted, and everyone started laughing in a combination of absurdity and delirium from lack of sleep. They started listing everything they could think of, starting with shopping sprees and game show appearances, and ending with complex bank and casino heists to dismantle capitalism.

When Crystal started dozing off while sitting up, they all agreed to get some sleep for real. The notebooks were stacked lovingly on one of the end tables, which reminded Lillian to run downstairs and chug her long-forgotten cup of juice in the living room before trudging back upstairs into bed.

------

"We can't just stay in the house forever, right?" Grey muttered as he stared out the living room window later that night, curled up on the window seat with his knees hugged to his chest.

"Technically we could," Rayne said, drumming her fingers against the recliner arm as she waited for her laptop to boot. "Infinite food and basic supplies, stuff for our hobbies... We have our instruments, we have our computers and game consoles and several external drives worth of movies and books and music since you and Crystal obsessively insist on collecting or hoarding anything of interest for later use."

"Hey, hey." Grey wagged a finger and feigned an offended scowl. "Look at our situation. How bored would we be if the two of us didn't hoard everything? In fact, maybe our desire to hoard entertainment was preparing for this day!"

"Damn psychics always preparing for everything they couldn't possibly know about," Rayne muttered rebelliously, and Crystal laughed. She'd stretched out on half of the corner couch taking up an entire section of the living room by itself, looking cozy with a pile of blankets and her special edition Switch.

"It's only gonna get worse from here, Ray."

"Open your town, I need to sell my oranges," Lillian interrupted, nudging Crystal's feet from her spot on the other side of the corner couch.

"Alright, lemme finish making this waterfall first."

"Your villagers are never gonna have scurvy again for like, three generations."

"That many oranges? Isn't that a bit overkill?"

"If they don't want an entire island nation's agricultural sector's worth of citrus they should learn to adjust their economy for inflation."

"You know the shop is run by literal children, right?"

"It's good to learn early that nepotism leads to ruin. The business world is harsh and so am I."

Rayne chuckled at the sound of Lillian's low, malicious cackling, but her expression swiftly turned serious. "What do you mean it's gonna get worse, Coco?"

"All four of us have abilities for real, right? Being in this world is gonna make them grow exponentially, whether we try to train them or not. New ones will pop up too, or existing ones will change a little as they grow. Okay Lils, gate's open." Crystal spoke nonchalantly, but every word drained a bit more color from Rayne's face. Meanwhile, Grey turned away from the window with an excited glint in his eyes.

"So psychic powers can get real strong in this world?"

"Yeah. The impression I got when we were coming over was... Magic exists here, and it's something anyone can learn to use with practice. But abilities like ours, psychic powers? Those you have to be born with, and it's rare. That's about as much as I know about it though," Crystal sighed and shrugged.

"Can you list everything you know about our situation?" Rayne said, opening a new document on her computer and typing away with her nose inches from the laptop screen. "I wanna write it all down. I got the thing about our bonds and memories, and the house being indestructible-"

"It's not indestructible, just protected." Crystal seemed startled as soon as the words left her mouth, as though the information was somehow new. She furrowed her brow, nose wrinkling as she carefully examined her thought process. "I see, protected... Like a barrier, almost? It'll always rebuild itself and restock supplies overnight no matter what happens, even if it's all burnt to ash, but the property itself is also shielded unless we draw attention from a big threat."

"A big threat? Like what?"

"I don't know. Big animals like those Nessies on the beach yesterday. Or monsters like the Eater, maybe?"

"Monsters?!" Lillian sat up straight, pulling her feet under her body. "There's monsters!?"

"There's magic, why wouldn't there be monsters too?" Grey pointed out, but his twin just stuck her tongue out at him.

"It's just an assumption," Crystal hurriedly explained. "For my power to work, I'd have to come into contact with stuff related to what I want to know about in order to get more information, I can't just pull stuff out of the ether whenever I have questions!"

"Then how do you know what you know already?"

"Well, we were in contact with the house. The house is made with really powerful magic, so I learned magic exists, and that it was used to make the house echo and ensure our supplies remain the same. I think I also learned about the barrier then, but didn't think about it or really absorb the info cuz I was thinking about other things, so it only just popped up." Crystal shrugged and let out a half-hearted laugh.

"What about the Eater?"

"The Eater was menacing us directly and I looked at it so I was able to get some info on it and the bond-eating shenanigan, but not much else because it's way stronger than me, I think? And my power activated as soon as we started our... Transfer, I guess? Away from Earth. And you all were in the room with me, so I knew you all had powers as well as myself, got the basic gist of how mine work, and that we'd all get much stronger whether we wanted to or not. That's really about it for what I know. I told you it wasn't much."

"Why the house though?" Rayne muttered. "It just wanted to eat our bonds and it did that. So why did it drop us on another planet, and why give us this cushy house echo thing?"

Crystal shrugged again. "I honestly have no idea. I think I could know if I got a lot stronger, but... That won't be any time soon. I can tell there's a reason, though. I just dunno what."

"Maybe it's compensation?" Grey said, his expression hopeful.

"Or bait, like a beacon, so it can find us again..." Lillian whispered with a shiver, and everyone's faces fell. Seeing their reactions, she hurriedly straightened her spine and forced a smile to her face. "But it didn't hurt us, and we're all still together. Imagine if we'd been flung to different planets instead of staying together!"

"That'd really suck," Grey agreed. "So like, Crystal, your power activates if you come into contact with stuff?"

"I think so. I'd have to test it to get the hang of how things work, precisely."

Grey chuckled, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. His expression made the three women exchange worried glances, especially once he started rubbing his hands together like a two-bit cartoon villain. "Looks like we got ourselves an excuse to head to that town for some reconnaissance!"

"In the snow?" Rayne asked, raising her eyebrows.

"With only summer clothes in our wardrobes," Crystal pointed out.

"We wore hiking boots for the walk up here so that'd be fine, but the warmest clothes we have right now are..." Lillian trailed off, then suddenly doubled over and started giggling.

Realization dawned on the others soon after, and Rayne covered her face with her hands. "Oh no."

"Oh yes!" Grey hissed, pumping his fist into the air. "That'll make one heck of an entrance, wouldn't it?"

"Our music video costumes? In PUBLIC!?" Rayne wailed while the others laughed.

"That might not be what we want to do though," Crystal said after her moment of laughter had subsided. "We don't know what kind of world this is. If they'll be friendly to strangers, especially ones who can't speak their language - or any language on this world. They won't know English, you know."

"But do we really have a choice?" Lillian asked, putting down her console and staring up at the ceiling. "We don't know anything about this world. About magic, except that it exists. About the people. And hiding here in our safe cozy house will be fine short term, but what about long term? Are we gonna spend our whole lives holed up in here?"

"I, for one, embrace the forest witch hermit lifestyle," Grey said. "And I know Crystal does too."

"Sure do. Cottage life."

Rayne sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't wanna be caught completely off guard by whatever nonsense comes our way. We know it's winter, but we don't know what the other seasons are like yet. What if they have a raining magma and diamonds from the sky season? We can't apply Earth logic here! Or if we can, we don't know to what extent! There were dinosaurs on the beach!"

"That's a fair point. There were indeed dinosaurs on the beach. Counter points?"

"There were dinosaurs on the beach."

"A fair counter point as well. I do want to see the dinosaurs up close."

"From a safe distance."

"Up close from a safe distance, of course."

"Plus, we don't know what's gonna happen with our powers. You said they'll get stronger, what does that mean?"

"I don't know. More powers will manifest, I think? And the ones we have already will be more potent. But I don't know how potent, or what exactly will happen."

"Exactly! You psychically downloaded only a little info about our situation and it gave you a nasty seizure! Right?"

"Pretty much."

"So what if something worse happens? A big huge infodump? If you can't control your powers, or shut it off when needed or whatever, what if..." Rayne's shoulders sagged.

"What if I have a big seizure every time I use my powers now?" Crystal finished, a wry smile on her face. "Yeah, I was wondering about that too. Honestly, everything about our situation has me so terrified I've circled back around to just feeling numb about it all."

"That's a hell of a mood," Grey sighed, stretching out on the window seat and propping his feet up against the wall. "Everything's happening so much, am I right? It's hard to be freaked out about everything simultaneously. It's easier to just phase out of existence, mentally speaking."

"I... Have an idea."

Everyone turned to look at Lillian, who sat perched on the edge of the couch. She glanced at all their faces, then offered a shy smile.

"Well? What's your idea, sis?" Grey encouraged, when his sister kept fidgeting in place instead of finishing her thought.

"Well, those warmer clothes we have... They're our costumes, right? And Crystal said we dunno how people would react to that sort of outfit, or to strangers in general, but what if... I mean... We have our instruments? What if... We pretended to be minstrels?"

#writing #chapter #original #original story #masquerade #fantasy #isekai

[n8thegr8]

My Avengers Academy Chapter 3: Parasites

“Peter, honey, you’re not eating your ice cream.”

Peter looked at the delicious treat that was laid out in front of him. He glanced at his Auntie May, who had a face scorned with concern and sorrow.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Auntie.” Peter then slowly started to pick at his treat. It was a gloomy summer day. It was overcast and the man on the tv said it was going to rain that day. He was in an ice cream parlor. It had a certain classic feel to it. Sitting across the booth was his auntie and uncle, which both looked so sad. Peter had his head hung low, but it was up enough for him to bring the spoon to his mouth.

“Hey, kiddo, why don’t we watch Aladdin when we get back home, huh?” Uncle Ben said in an attempt to liven up the mood.

Peter began to play with his treat. “No, it’s okay.” His spoon kept moving the ice cream in circles. An endless loop until he decided to put a stop to it. He’d just been to the doctor. It was his yearly check-up. It was supposed to be a good day. His fifth birthday was only two days ago, and that was a good day. Today was supposed to be a good day. However, something ruined it. Droplets of salty tears started to form in Peter’s eyes. Why was he like this? Was he cursed? Why did it seem like the universe was out to get him? Did he do something wrong? His vision began to blur from the heavy flow of tears and his nose clogged up with mucus.

“Auntie May? Uncle Ben?” he choked. He slowly lifted his head, he couldn’t bear the shame he felt within him. He tried to look them in the eyes but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t. “Why am I quirkless?” he sobbed. “Why am I quirk-“

“-less?” Peter felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through his body and he quickly sat up from his lying position. He found himself in an unfamiliar location. Everything was sterile and white. The bed he was lying in felt rough, but still gave some sense of comfort. His head was throbbing in pain. He put his hand on his forehead. “Am... am I dead?” he muttered.

“If you were, then I’ve been doing a crappy job.”

The voice startled Peter out of his daze. He looked to his left to see a woman he’d never seen before. She was dressed in a white long coat, glasses, and a little badge that read: “Claire Temple, Doctor”. She was writing on her clipboard. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“Umm…”

The doctor looked up from her clipboard. “What?”

“Wh-who are you?” Peter blinked.

“Claire Temple, resident Doctor at the Avengers Academy Hospital Ward,” she stated matter-of-factly.

What, I’m in the hospital?!

“You went into a syncopal episode, fell and hit your head on the ground, no bleeding though, so that’s great. We took a blood test and everything seems norm-“

“Woah woah woah, back up.” Peter waved his hands. “I fainted?!”

The doctor cocked an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you know what syncope means,” she commented, “But yes, you fainted. Specifically from a spider bite.” She gestured to Peter’s right hand. 

Peter gasped as he looked at the back of his right hand. There were two small teeth marks and a giant bump. He almost fainted again.

“I… I’m not…”

“No, miraculously there wasn’t any poison delivered. Your blood came back perfectly normal.”

Oh, thank God… Peter sighed and hung his head. His memory was still covered in a deep dark fog. He held his head and shook it. “Doctor Temple-“

“Just call me Claire.”

Peter was taken aback by this statement. Isn’t the stereotype that doctors want to be called ‘doctor’?

“... Claire. What happened when I was unconscious?”

Claire’s gaze returned to her clipboard. “Your friend screamed for help and got the attention of Dr. Banner. He picked you up and rushed you up here.”

Peter jumped up onto his knees, a sudden burst of energy rushed through him. “I was held by the Hulk?!”

Claire backed up a bit, surprised by the sudden outburst. She readjusted her glasses and gave a light laugh. “You’re quite the hero fanboy aren’t you?”

As it is guaranteed that the sun will rise in the east, Peter’s face turned crimson with embarrassment. “I uh, wanna be one.” He scratched the back of his head.

“So do a lot of kids, but since you're quirkless, it adds more desperation, doesn’t it?”

Peter was taken by surprise by this. She read him so easily. Did she have a quirk? Was her quirk about knowing what a person is like just by looking at them? “That’s so cool! Can I write this down? That’s such a neat concept for a quirk. You could know exactly what’s wrong with a patient and act accordingly! I need to write this do-“

“Oh, by the way, your uncle’s on the way to pick you up.”

Claire’s words were a giant hammer to Peter’s wall of muttering. 

“Also, I don’t have a quirk,” she added.

Peter started to sweat bullets. His heart started to pound like a jackhammer, and his body started to shake faster than Pietro when he tried to convince him that he could phase through solid objects. “Uncle Ben’s coming here?! B-but he’s supposed to be at work!” he sputtered. “J-just let me go home! He doesn’t have to pick me up…”

Claire sighed and rubbed her temples. “Yes, yes he does. Under federal law, a minor, you, cannot be discharged from the hospital, here,” she said as she circled her arm around the room while pointing. “Unless a parent or guardian, your uncle, signs a legally binding paper that states that you have been discharged from said hospital.”

Peter shook his head in desperation. “No no no no you don’t understand. Uncle Ben works a nine-to-five job, it’s really strict over there and even though Uncle Ben’s a veteran, they barely let anybody just drop their shifts even for family and and and-”

Suddenly Peter heard a vibration coming from a corner of the room, where the cabinet for patient belongings was stored. He then got out of his bed. His legs wobbled beneath him. It had been a while since he walked.

“Oh, you can walk, that’s good,” Claire added while writing on her clipboard.

Peter opened up the cabinet and saw all of his clothes folded neatly, and his phone and glasses laid on top of the pile. He snatched them both and turned the phone on immediately.

“I can see your ass, by the way, hospital gowns do a crappy job of covering stuff.”

Peter let out a small, “Yipe!” and covered his full moon. “Y-you coulda told me that earlier!”

“Yeah, I could’ve.”

Peter grunted. So that’s why it felt airy in here. Peter walked back to his cot; this is when Peter finally noticed the heavy bags under Claire’s eyes. She must not get a lot of sleep. He hopped into his cot, making sure that he stayed modest as he did, and turned on his screen. He saw a variety of messages:

Wanda Maximoff :P (2:35 PM, 32 messages): Please please message me, I really hope you’re alright.

Pietro Maximoff (2:36 PM): Sis is kind of a stalker amirite?? Message us when you wake up big guy, worried for ya.

Uncle Ben (2:40 PM): Hey son, I’m 5 minutes away, okay? Stay tight, I love you.

After Peter read the message from his Uncle, he wanted to scream out to the heavens. Uncle Ben needed to work; make money so that he can support the family. This can’t happen, it just can’t. He felt breath on his shoulder. He turned his head to his right to see that Claire’s chin was resting on his shoulder, sneaking looks at his phone. He then jerked his phone away and sat on it. “Hey, no peeking!”

Claire pushed herself from the cot and the rolling chair carried her a bit of a way away from the cot. “Your girlfriend’s pretty clingy, you should watch your back.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he snapped. “She’s just my friend.”

A sly grin climbed itself onto Claire’s features. “Uh-huh, sure.”

Eventually Uncle Ben arrived at the hospital ward and Peter was discharged, free to go home. Uncle Ben and Peter had to book it to the car since he put only enough money in the parking meter for twenty minutes. Once in the car, Peter stood silent. A mix of emotions swirled within him like a ravaging hurricane. He was sad, frustrated, angry, and depressed all at once. He didn’t want to talk to Uncle Ben. Peter basically demanded him to drop him off at the subway station so he could get back to work as soon as possible.

Uncle Ben took a look at his nephew. Peter sat on an angle where his whole body was facing away from him. His head was tilted and rested on the window. It despaired him so much to see Peter in such a bad mood. He thought back to when Peter was born. He was so excited for his brother, Richard, and his sister-in-law, Mary. They’d been trying for years to have a child, and when Peter was born, he saw this spark in their eyes. He knew Peter was something special, a boy that could lighten up any room he’s in just by talking about what he loves. Uncle Ben kept his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t help but attempt to get Peter in a better mood.

“Hey, Pete, when I get home tonight, why don’t we watch It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World? I’ll have May make us some chocolate shakes and you can invite Pietro and Wanda over. We can make a whole thing out of it!”

Peter sighed. “No, it’s okay.”

Uncle Ben eyed Peter. He knew something was up. “Son, are you okay? What’s bothering you? Is it the camera? May and I can get you a new one.”

Peter always hated it when he called him “son”. It meant that he was worried about him, and he was trying to connect with him. Even though Uncle Ben couldn’t possibly understand what Peter was feeling. However, he knew he couldn’t hide things from him for long. He always finds out one way or another.

“N-no! Don’t get me a new one, please. It’s just that I… I didn’t want to pull you away from work. The hospital should’ve let me go home,” Peter said in a low sad voice.

“Peter,” Uncle Ben sighed, “You know that I’d do anything for you, right?”

Peter bumped his head against the window. “I told you to stop that,” Uncle Ben scolded.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, “I just… I just don’t like taking you away from your responsibilities, I guess.”

“Responsibilities? Peter... my responsibility is you. Providing for you. Raising you. Teaching you. Taking care of you.”

Peter shook his head. “But I pulled you away from work. Don’t you have a responsibility there too? One that’s a lot more important than me...” Peter trailed off. 

Uncle Ben suddenly pulled over to an open space on the side of the road and put the car in park. He drew in a hefty sigh and turned to look at Peter.

“Peter, look at me,” Uncle Ben said. Peter turned his head to see Uncle Ben looking at him dead in the eye. He knew what this meant. He was going to get a speech. 

“Peter, you are my greatest responsibility okay? When May and I took you in, I knew what that meant. I knew that I had to be the best parent, guardian, whatever there is for you. I had to be. I had to do it for Richard and Mary, but most importantly I had to do it for you. Yeah, I have to go to work and yes, doing well at work, going to work, etc. is my responsibility. But you are my greatest responsibility. Making sure that you grow up into a fine young man. Picking you up from crazy situations like these. Protecting you. Also, supporting whatever you want to be. You still wanna be a hero?”

“Yeah...” Peter blushed in embarrassment.

Uncle Ben let out a small chuckle. “That’s a big responsibility to take on, Peter, but I know you can pull it off. You’re a smart kid. With enough gusto, you can do anything. Now, don’t say you’re not important ever again, okay? You’re already my hero, alright?” 

“O-okay Uncle Ben,” Peter stammered, “I love you.”

Uncle Ben smiled and patted Peter on the shoulder. “I love you too. Now let’s get you to the train station okay?”

Uncle Ben then put the car into drive and looked over to his blind spot to see if any cars were coming. Peter went back and laid his head on the window. He could hear the mumblings of his Uncle as there were no decent spots to pull out into the street. He laughed silently at the nonsensical words that were spoken from his Uncle’s mouth. 

“Jeez, finally,” stated Uncle Ben.

Peter then felt the car start to move. Then out of nowhere, a horrible migraine hit Peter like a truck. Time slowed down as he felt this excruciatingly weird tingly feeling running through his head and his body. He felt extreme paranoia and a sense of immediate danger. 

Look out.

“Uncle Ben!”

“What’s wrong?!” Uncle Ben exclaimed, whipping his head around to face Peter.

Without warning, a speeding pick-up truck came rushing past the car, honking its horn as it passed.

“Woah!” exclaimed Uncle Ben, turning his head back towards the road. “I... I didn’t even see him,” Uncle Ben muttered, “Saved us another doctor’s visit. Good eye, kid.” He gave a hearty laugh.

Peter let out a nervous chuckle, “Y-yeah, r-right...” Peter was sitting stiff as a board at this point. That’s the thing though; Peter never saw the truck coming. He just felt this overwhelming feeling of danger and decided to act on it. What the hell was that? was his thought as Uncle Ben finally pulled onto the street and started to drive again. 

The rest of the car ride was blanketed in a kind silence. The talk had been made, love had been reaffirmed, but Peter was struggling inside yet again. If something seemed off, he couldn’t just let it go. Uncle Ben had this trait too. “The Parker Paranoia” he called it. That migraine wasn’t normal. It felt like I was having an aura. 

Uncle Ben dropped Peter off at the train station. When he boarded his train, he pulled out his phone. He wanted to research the phenomena that he had just experienced. Quickly he realized that he never texted Pietro and Wanda and that there were 30 new messages from her. 

“Oh, shit.”

Peter was bummed to find out that his regular stop, the Queens Station, was closed due to the earlier Villain attack by the Sandman. 

Pretty basic name, if I gotta be honest. 

So he had to get off one stop early and huff it the rest on foot.

It took fourteen minutes of apologizing to Wanda, but eventually, he got through to her. Nobody found out about the fight between Flash and Pietro. Peter internally groaned since he could already imagine the amount of bragging from Pietro about how he was totally going to win that fight. Peter shot a text to Wanda saying that he’d gotten off of the train and that he’d see her when he’d get home. As Peter was walking down the sidewalk, he spotted a beautiful lone flower in the middle of a desecrated lot. Police tape withheld entrance to the lot, thick sheets of glass covered the perimeter, and there were two signs: one had the radiation symbol, and the other read “Area Quarantined by Damage Control.” 

This is where the Radioactive Man was arrested last week, he thought.

Villain attacks have become a common occurrence in society ever since the Quirk Boom in the 1960s. It wouldn’t be too unusual for an entire block to be destroyed. There were government programs and agencies such as Damage Control that helped get common people and communities back onto their feet.

Peter reached into his backpack to grab his camera, only to remember the fate of his most sentimental possession. He hung his head in sadness once again and he continued on his way. He didn’t even want to take a picture with his phone. He just didn’t want to do anything at the moment. He was tired, his head ached, his legs felt wobbly, and he just wanted to go home.

As Peter continued walking, his mind flashbacked to that horrible day. The day he found out he was quirkless. He recalled the doctor’s harsh words to him, the tightness in his chest, the pain in his throat from crying so much; he recalled everything. Today was the anniversary. He wanted to wipe away the horrible memory by making new ones at Avengers Academy. However, as his luck would have it, today might just have been the worst day of his life. 

He came across a small tunnel. He stopped and sighed. He lost all of the pictures he took today; the SD card either was smashed or was lost. Why? Why me? Peter has asked this question many times but has never gotten an answer. He just felt like he was the unluckiest boy alive. Tears started to well up in his eyes as they usually did. Peter was always taught that crying was a healthy thing, but other times Aunt May felt like it was a mistake to tell him that. Peter cried so much that Pietro sometimes joked that crying was Peter’s secret quirk. Usually, when he’d say that, he’d trip and fall on his face courtesy of Wanda’s Hex. 

His chest started to tighten as the intense emotion of sadness filled him like water pouring into a cup. His vision blurred with tears. Then, he put his back against the wall of the entrance to the tunnel, knelt, hugged his knees to his chest, hid his face, and cried. I’m so useless. Memories of Flash’s name-calling ran through his mind. Every day he suffered. Whether it was Flash, life, or even himself, Peter’s days were filled with sadness and depression. Sure, there were days where his family and friends would cheer him up, but that could only do so much, and it was all because of his body. His blood. His DNA. It was all because of him. Because of himself, he could never be who he wanted to be. He could never become a hero. He couldn’t fly, he couldn’t punch through walls, shoot lightning from his fingertips, nothing. All he could do was what everyone else could already do, and that made him feel absolutely horrible.

His breath became irregular and he started to hit himself on the head. “I’m so stupid.” He hit the wall behind him, and pain stung his balled-up fist. “Nothing ever goes right.” He pulled his hair. “I’m a damn failure.” He started to scratch his wrists. “Nobody loves me.” He flung his head and bumped the wall behind him. “I want to die!” he screamed. His head then started to throb with pain, and he kept muttering, “I’m so worthless,” over and over again. He cried harder and small sobs and whines escaped his mouth. Even though nobody was around, he didn’t want his pain to be noticeable. Nobody should know that he’s hurting, not his family, not his friends, not his teachers, not his therapist, not God, not anybody. His head started to hurt more and more. His arm hair stood straight up. 

Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t I have a quirk? Why was I born wrong? Why am I curs-

“Excuse me.”

Peter jolted back to his feet when he heard the voice coming deeper from the tunnel. Peter’s eyesight was still blurry from the crying, but he could see the vague figure of a man standing a few meters from him.

“O-oh,” Peter stammered, “I’m sorry about that.” Peter’s head started to hurt even more now, and his legs started to wobble beneath him. What the hell?

“No, child, it’s okay.” The stranger's voice sounded odd to Peter as if it was a corrupted sound file on a computer. “I was just trying to find my way home. Do you know where I am?”

Peter kept wiping his eyes. “Yeah, actually, you’re in Queens.” A chill ran up and down Peter’s spine. 

What’s happening? 

The stranger let out a small laugh. “Good, good, and what time is it?”

Peter looked down at his phone. “It’s 3:23 PM, sir.” A small voice yelled in Peter’s head. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN.

“How excellent!” the stranger exclaimed, “Everyone’s still at work now, yes?” 

Peter still couldn’t see the stranger. His eyes were no longer blurry, but he was still shrouded in the darkness of the tunnel. A foul stench caught the attention of Peter’s nose. “Jeez!” He then held his nose. “Um, yeah they still should be.” 

RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN, the voice kept screaming. His eyes widened as he remembered this feeling. This feeling of paranoia. Of imminent danger. The feeling that he was going to die. Peter took a step back and lengthened the distance between him and the stranger. “Well, sir, I hope you find your way home. Have a good day.” 

He turned around and started to walk. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER. His leg was snagged by something mid-step and Peter fell to the ground. “What the..?” He looked to his leg and his heart jumped into his throat when he saw it being held by a red tendril. “Oh no.” Peter’s gaze followed the tendril back to the tunnel, and, more horrifyingly, back to the stranger.

The stranger began to speak once more. “Oh, don’t go! We haven’t even learned each other’s names yet!” The voice transformed into something much more demonic with each passing word.

Peter felt himself slowly starting to slide across the old tough concrete ground towards the stranger. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RU-

“I’ll start!” The stranger’s face became much clearer, however, one would be mistaken if you could even call it a face. It had no eyes, but it had giant white angular white splotches where eyes should be. It did have a mouth. It looked familiar to Peter, and that made him realize who currently had him in its grasp. It was jagged, and the teeth were long and black. It was a symbiote’s mouth. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN.

“My name is Carnage, and we’re going to be best friends!” The creature cackled a hellish laugh. Peter grasped at the ground around him to try to get away, but it was in vain. More tendrils came from Carnage, wrapped around his throat, arms, and remaining leg, and pulled him into the darkness of the tunnel.

Peter’s screams for help were cut off from another tendril wrapping itself around Peter’s mouth. Carnage put its long finger up to its mouth and gave a chilling hush. “We can’t have you ruining our playdate, human. You gotta help me, best friend.” Peter was brought closer to the monster and his entire body violently shook. Everything in his body told him to run, to get out of there, but he couldn’t break free. “You see, I’m playing Cops and Robbers with another friend! I’m the robber and I need to hide. Best friend, I need to hide in your body.”

No no no no no no no, this can’t be happening.

“I’m also…” Carnage’s tongue escaped its mouth and traced Peter’s face. Its saliva felt hot and slightly stung Peter’s skin. Peter tried to let out a scream, a cry for help, anything, but he couldn't. “Extremely hungry. My friend started to play with me in the middle of my dinner,” the red demon cackled, “And you, best friend, are the perfect replacement for my dinner.” 

A giant tendril shot out of Carnage’s body, forced its way into Peter’s mouth, and slithered its way into his body. Peter’s whole body was on fire, he was in so much pain, and his head wouldn’t stop hurting. 

Am I dying? Is this it?

“Thank you, best friend. You’re a real hero.”

Peter’s life flashed before his eyes, his first memory, his birthdays, meeting Flash and Wanda, watching movies with Uncle Ben and Aunt May, the day he found out he was quirkless, the day that Flash beat him up for the first time, his Aunt and Uncle hugging him and crying because of something he said, every memory started to get sadder and sadder. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to die. Not like this. I need to be a hero. Peter looked at his hero notebook which laid upon the ground. It was opened at Iron Man’s page. 

Someone! Please! Save me!

Peter’s vision started to fade. There was no light to go to; there was only the encroaching darkness that consumed everything. During what he thought were his final moments, he heard a loud clanging noise to his right. He heard someone say, “Man, I’m sure glad this suit has filters.” 

He heard another voice screech in terror and say, “No! Not you! Let me have my din-!” Peter felt intense vibrations surround him, and then everything went dark.

Peter’s eyes shot wide open. He looked at his surroundings and realized he was no longer in the tunnel, but he was at the park. He saw Flash standing over a boy he didn’t know, and he was on the ground clutching his stomach. Peter noticed how the boy was in pain and rushed to his side. Peter turned to Flash. He noticed that he had a distinct smile on his face.

Peter called out to him. “Flash, what happened to him?”

Flash only chuckled to himself and shook his head. The boy groaned in pain, and Peter’s attention went back to him.

“Flash, you have to get an adult,” Peter said, “He’s really hurt.” Peter looked at the boy. His skin was pale as a sheet, but his hair was a fiery red. His clothes were expensive-looking, a green vest, a white shirt, and dark pants. His face was bruised and beaten. “It’s okay, we’re gonna get help and-“

“Why are you helping him, Wall-Crawler?”

Peter snapped his head back to Flash, an annoyed look was painted on his face. 

“Look at him. He’s weak.”

Peter’s eyes widened. Why was Flash acting like this? Peter’s gaze was drawn to Flash’s knuckles; they were red. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. “Flash… did you hurt him?”

Flash only grimaced.

“Flash, answer me. Did you hu-“

“-rt? Hey kid, wake up! You good?”

Peter felt something cold cup his cheek. It felt metallic.

DANGER!

Then, he felt that same cold metallic object smack him across the face.

“Oh shut up, Friday, the Hulk woke me up with an Earth-shattering roar. This kid can handle a love tap to the face.”

F...Friday? Peter could only see darkness since his eyes were still closed. He could hear a voice, but it sounded robotic and static. However, it sounded familiar. He knew that name: Friday. His mind was still clouded by a thick fog. 

“I can’t just leave him here. Just because I purged the Symbiote from him doesn’t mean he’s okay. He’s just a kid.”

I definitely know that voice. Wait… is that-?! Peter interrupted his thought by opening his eyes. However, the light from the afternoon sun blinded him as he threw his hands up to cover his eyes.

“Oh, good, he’s awake.”

Peter heard the sound of heavy footsteps that came from his left. Along with the footsteps, sounds of mechanical whirring and clanging came with it. Peter put down his shielding hands, and his eyes readjusted to the light. On his left stood a man, clad in red and yellow armor. Various blue lights lined the crevices, and a glowing blue triangle adorned the man’s chest. A mask covered the man’s face; the eyes glowed the same blue light as in the crevices and the triangle. Peter’s jaw dropped in utter disbelief. He was in the presence of the most popular hero in the world.

The man clad in red and yellow armor knelt to meet Peter eye to eye. “Hey, you okay, kid?”

Peter’s entire body went numb. His mouth quivered in excitement. The earth stood still, time stopped, and all he could hear was the flow of his blood in his veins. He started spouting incoherent nonsense. “I-I-I-I-“ he stammered. 

The man tilted his helmet in a curious disposition. “You what, kid?”

“Iron Man?!” Peter screamed while pointing at him.

Iron Man then dashed towards Peter and covered his mouth. “Pipe down, kid! Do you know how hard it is to escape rabid fans?!”

Peter's whole body shook as he realized that the real Iron Man was telling him to shut his trap. This is so amazing! Peter slowly nodded his head, and Iron Man then released his grip on his mouth.

This turned out to be a bad idea, however, Peter didn’t start screaming again. Instead, he started to mutter.

“So do you actually have a quirk or not it’s been a debate for years and years and you’ve been really shady when you have to talk about it and that’s fine ‘cuz it’s your own personal life and all but I really really would like to know ‘cuz I have this notebook here see and let me open up to your page and oh wow you actually signed it oh my God oh my God this is amazing I’ll treasure this forever it’ll be hung up in the living room oh wow oh wow you’re so amazing and...“

“Woah, this kid has nothing better to do, does he?” Iron Man mumbled under his breath. Peter’s onslaught of words was getting on Iron Man’s and Friday’s nerves, and Friday didn’t even have nerves to get on. Iron Man needed to stop this before Peter passed out. “Alright, alright, calm down,” he said while waving his hands. “Are you feeling okay? No voices? No sudden urge to consume human flesh?”

Peter flinched when Iron Man suddenly interrupted his airstrike of word vomit. Then, he shook his head. Iron Man then let his arms hang and sighed in relief. “Awesome,” he said as he turned his back on Peter. “Don’t worry about Carnage. He’s secure and sedated in a special compartment in the suit.,” he said lightly tapping his gauntlet on his left hand. Iron Man then turned his head slightly in Peter’s direction. Peter could only see a bit of the mask, specifically the glowing eye and a bit of the face. “You know your way home, kid?” 

Peter only made a small sound in response. 

“Beautiful.”

Peter was at an impasse. There he was, standing behind the most popular hero of all time, and he was told to be quiet. He couldn’t even make a sound anymore. All he could do was look onward. He reached out his hand when Iron Man turned his back. He was leaving him that quick? A signature, a few basic questions, and that was it? No questions about himself? Nothing? Peter didn’t even care that he almost died only minutes ago. He just felt so heavy, as if a rock was tied together by steel and was stuffed in his heart. Was this a hero's life? Was this Iron Man’s true self? Was he wrong about everything?

“Alright, kid.” The distinct sound of exhaust and flames started to emanate from Iron Man. “Go home, okay? Your parents are probably worried sick about ‘ya. Oh, and if you do start feeling particularly cannibal-ly, call the Avengers hotline. We’ll deal with it immediately.” The sound of engines began to intensify and Iron Man was shot into the sky by the rockets built in his boots and palms.

Tony Stark sighed as he began his flight; he didn’t have much time left. He just had to get Carnage to the Raft, charge up there, and get home. He was really taking this one a little too close to the chest by being out so long. Carnage was a crafty bastard and a quick one as well. No wonder why he’d been on the run for more than thirty years. 

“Boss, something’s on your back,” his in-suit AI, Friday, said with the enthusiasm of a secretary on the last thirty minutes of her shift.

This made him panic a bit inside. Was it a villain attack? Now? How did his sensors not pick up this object until it was already on his back?

“Putting up live-feed from the ‘Hulk’s-Hand-in-the-Cookie-Jar’ camera,” Friday stated. 

The live feed showed up on the mask’s UI, and Tony could not believe what he was seeing. It’s that kid! How the hell?! 

“Friday! Get him off my back!” he shouted.

There was a long pause of silence, and even though the suit blocked off all sounds from the outside world, he could faintly hear the screaming of the kid that was clung to his back.

“Are you an idiot, boss? Look where we’re flying over right now.”

Tony’s visor then switched to standby mode, a mode which was used when no action was happening. He then saw that he was high above the streets of Manhattan and realized why dropping a child from this height would be very bad for his public image.

Tony sighed and he looked back at the kid who was still hanging on. He was slightly disturbed by the g-forces at work doing a number on the poor boy’s face and told him specifically to keep his head down. Once he saw the boy follow his order, he held the kid’s head with his left hand and gave it a little pressure to hold it in place. This was a precaution in case the kid was stupid enough to raise his head and let his neck be at the mercy of the laws of physics.

“Boss, power level is currently at 3%. You have to hurry,” Friday stated urgently, “We have to get this kid to safety soon.”

Easier said than done, Tony thought. He couldn’t just drop the kid off at street level. It would take too much power to get back at a respectable altitude and fly the rest of the way. He had to drop him off at a building, but a smaller one though. Suddenly, Tony felt extremely weak. His body started to become extremely stiff, and his breathing started to slow and become labored. 

Shit.

“You know, you didn’t have to do that to him, Flash.”

Flash shot a disapproving glare at his friend, Kenny Kong. He was a bit on the plus side which made him ideal for the school’s football team. He did well enough in school to qualify for sports, but he wasn’t exceptionally bright. He was also born quirkless, which made life a bit difficult for him socially, but he was well respected among his peers for going toe-to-toe with other quirked students in football. He was not a mean person by any means; he didn’t go out of his way to torment or bully people who he deemed below him. However, maybe he didn’t get on anyone’s bad side because he thought he couldn’t stand up to them. Usually, after school Flash and Kenny would go downtown and find a nice alley that they could bunker down in and drink some booze in secret. 

“You could’ve gotten suspended,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall behind him.

Flash exhaled from his nose in annoyance. He took a swift swig of his 40, and his face scrunched up as he felt the alcohol burn his throat and the pungent taste assault his taste buds. He let out a breath of relief and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. That was a lot stronger than I thought. He tossed the bottle to Kenny, who in turn caught it and took a swig himself. “But I didn’t, right? So nothing bad happened.”

“Bro, he fainted…”

“So?”

“He coulda got hurt!”

Flash scoffed at him. “Nah, that round-faced bitch caught him before he hit the ground. And he was just overreacting anyway. It’s just a camera.”

“Uh, no she didn’t! He hit his head!” Kenny exclaimed. 

Flash shrugged in indifference. 

“Come on du-“

“Listen, Ken, the Wall-Crawler’s in over his head.” Flash walked up to Kenny and snagged the bottle from him. “Imagine that Parker is this bottle, okay? What would happen if I chucked it at the wall there?” Flash asked as he pointed behind him.

“It would break…?” Kenny answered, not sure where Flash was going with this metaphor.

“Yup, it would break into a million little pieces and the alcohol inside would spill out. The bottle is gone and it failed its task to hold the booze. It can’t even be recycled.”

“I don’t see how that…”

“But, if I, let’s say…” Suddenly, Flash’s arm became covered with the symbiote, and Flash’s hand grew claws at the end of his fingers. He then took the bottle with his hand and cracked the top of it off. All that was left on the top was the craggy pattern of broken glass. “Did that. Yeah, the top’s broken off, but look, the alcohol is still there. It can also be recycled into something else.”

“That was $30 man!” Kenny shouted, “Do you know how expensive it is to get booze as a minor?!”

Flash put his finger to his mouth. “Irrelevant, and pipe down will ‘ya?! I’m not lookin’ to get an underage drinking mark on my record. I’m aiming for the big shots, y’here?” Flash then sighed. “Look if that idiot somehow gets into a hero school, he’s going to get slaughtered. By a teacher, classmate, or even a villain if he ever gets that far. And apparently, I’m the only one man enough to put him in his place and teach him a lesson.” Flash shook his head and slumped against the wall. “It’s how I learned.”

Flash heard a “‘Tch” come from Kenny. “You got a problem, Kong?”

“Yeah, maybe I do.”

Flash stood up; a blood vessel started to make itself visible on his forehead. “Well, please then, tell me a better idea. If ‘ya have one.”

Kenny stood up too, matching Flash’s deadly gaze with his own. “How about this: leave him alone. It’s his life. If he’s quirkless and wants to be a hero, then let him. You’re not obligated to stop his dream, no matter how unattainable it is. He ain’t your responsibility, and maybe your method of literally crushing his dreams isn’t really all that good.”

“What do you know?” Flash spat. “Isn’t it a hero’s job supposed to be stopping deaths from happening?”

“Yeah, but they don’t usually send their saved civilians home with bruises they caused. You’re making excuses.” Kenny crossed his arms. The two stared down each other; the menace of anger filled the air. More of Flash’s symbiote crawled down his other arm. Kenny noticed this, grunted, and shook his head. “Whatever, man. I’m going home. I expect $30 on my desk tomorrow.”

Flash rolled his eyes. “And where the hell would I find $30?”

Kenny shrugged. “I dunno. Hold Parker upside down and shake the money out of him.”

“Jesus Christ, Ken, I-“

Suddenly, Flash noticed that Kenny’s eyes were wide. His mouth was ajar ever so slightly and his bottom lip was quivering. Normally Flash would just write this behavior off as Kenny being Kenny, but there was something about his eyes. They were dilated, and they weren’t looking at Flash. They were looking above him.

He could feel it. The atmosphere changed radically. Instead of the stench of anger, the smell of fear permeated everywhere. Flash didn’t like this feeling. Not one bit. Something was behind him, and he did not want to turn around. His hands started to shake. He swallowed a lump down his throat. They both needed to get out of there. They both were in serious trouble.

“Ken,” Flash whispered, “Run.” 

Red clouded Flash’s vision and a psychotic laugh pierced Flash’s ears.

Peter had spent the last forty-five seconds coughing his lungs out. A common occurrence because he had never been able to burp his entire life, and he usually resorted to coughing up all of the gas in his stomach due to his horrible hiccups. However, this time it was because he was flying around at speeds that a human was never designed to be traveling at. That was so stupid.

“Kid, that was literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen someone do, and I work with Deadpool.”

Peter sighed as he looked back at Iron Man. Again, his back was turned to him. He wasted time. He had this question. This question haunted him for ten whole years. Why didn’t he ask this question earlier when he was ranting? Peter finally got back up on his two feet. 

“Keep banging on the door until someone lets you down. After that, go straigh-“

“Wait a second!”

“No!” Iron Man’s voice became stern, like a master scolding their dog. “I’m extremely busy, and I don’t have time for fanboys an-“

“Can somebody become a hero, even if they don’t have a quirk?!” Peter bellowed. He did it. He tossed the line into the pond.

Iron Man turned his head slightly in Peter’s direction. “Kid, I…”

Peter kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t bear to see the expression on Iron Man’s face. Even though he had a mask on, he knew if he looked he would feel an intense wave of disapproval. He just knew it. When he realized that Iron Man didn’t continue speaking, he stepped back in. “I wasn’t born with a quirk, but I always wanted to be a hero. I’ve been picked on so much because of that. I can’t run really fast or move things with my mind, but, I don’t know. I just really want to save people. I just think … that’s the coolest thing in the world. I want to be able to save the world with brimming confidence. Like you do. I don’t want a reward. I don’t care about money and fame. I just want to be there when someone falls to catch them right in the nick of time or rush in when some criminals rob a bank. I just want to help.” Peter opened his eyes and lifted his head to his hero. “You know what I mean?”

But who Peter saw standing in Iron Man’s place wasn’t him. Who stood in his place was an incredibly anorexic man, with greying hair on his head and on his beard, wearing a graphic t-shirt of two cartoon electrons telling a smart chemistry joke, and baggy green-ish pants. Peter screamed in terror.

“Wh-what?! Who are you?! What happened to Iron Man?! You look like Tony Stark but…! Wait! You’re an imposter! A fake! Some sort of off-brand Life Model Decoy?!” he babbled while pointing at the man.

The man hung his head and gave a deep, depressed, and frustrated sigh. “I am Iron Man, and ‘off-brand Life Model Decoy’? That’s pretty rude to say to someone, kid.”

“No way,” Peter gasped. He couldn’t put his finger on why he knew, but hearing him talk assured him that the unusual-looking man in front of him was indeed Tony Stark: The Invincible Iron Man. “You haven’t shown your face in years. People were wondering if-“

“If I was dead?” Tony sat down and put his back against the short ledge behind him. “No, not yet… Well, technically yes.”

Peter couldn’t process this. Tony Stark wasn’t huge or anything, but he was a six-foot-tall man who exhumed confidence by just standing in the room. Always dressed nice, cleaned up well, and still considered attractive at an age where most models would be let go. The man sitting in front of him was pale, frail, his hair was thin, and his eyes looked sullen and tired. This was a man who looked like he gave up on life a long time ago, not the man who saved the world in a high-tech suit.

“Well, if you’ve seen me like this, I guess I’ll just tell you.” Tony grasped the bottom of his shirt and lifted. Peter flinched when he saw virtually a skeleton with skin wrapped around it. He didn’t even have a belly to speak of. It was sucked in so far into his body. How did he even walk to put the suit on today? What caught Peter’s eye, though, was the arc reactor nestled in his chest. Everyone knew the story of Tony Stark and his invention. However, Peter noticed that the veins around the chest piece itself were glowing multiple colors. A group of colors that seemed oddly familiar to him, but he didn’t know why. “Five years ago, there was a battle, and I did a Hail Mary play to end it. I died. My heart stopped, but I was still conscious. I’m basically running on fumes right now.” Tony then knocked on his chest piece, the famous Arc Reactor. “Because of my quirk, the energy that I absorbed during the battle is what is keeping me alive. If I use it, I die. I charge the arc reactor on my off time, storing new energy so I don’t have to use this special energy that’s inside of me. It‘s built to run on a 1% charge for a day, but when I use the suit, it drains fast.”

Peter’s mind flipped through its imaginary pages to find the event that he was talking about. “Was it the fight against the U-Foes? They really messed you and Cap up…”

“Those D-Lister lowlifes?” Tony said dismissively. “No, it wasn’t them. This battle had very little coverage. I made sure of it.”

The thought of Tony Stark manipulating news coverage on a fight disturbed Peter, but that was a discussion for another day.

“The Invincible Iron Man should always remain, well, invincible. If word got out there that I’m functionally dead, people would lose hope. Sometimes I feel that I’m the only thing that’s holding this world from destruction. I don’t know if that's my ego talking or if it’s true. That’s why I wear the armor, kid. So people won’t see that I’m terrified. That I’m human, just like the rest. Some people say I’m a symbol of peace. A man who rejected his war profiteering ways and decided to fight for the greater good of humanity. In reality, I’m just a scared and jaded old man who shouldn’t even be alive.”

Tony got up and walked towards a door that led to the stairs of the building that they were on. “Oh, and to answer your question.”

Peter’s ears perked up. His chest tightened with anticipation.

“I don’t think a person without a quirk can be a hero, and before you say anything, Cap doesn’t count. You have to be willing to lay yourself down on the barbed wire so your partner can crawl on top of you. Except the barbed wire is laced with poison and you don’t have a healing factor. Also, the field that you’re in is over two-hundred degrees Fahrenheit and you don’t have a heat-resistance quirk. You’d just be killed. I’m sorry.”

Peter’s head hung low, and his eyes darkened with sadness. “Ah, I see,” he whispered.

Tony opened the door and sighed as he could practically feel Peter’s sadness. “Listen, if you wanna be able to help you should be a first responder. It’s a fine profession. New Yorkers love their Firefighters and Paramedics. You’d be doing a good thing. Also, I don’t think I need to tell you this, but don’t post what I said to you online, okay?”

Tony glanced back at Peter. He noticed the small tears running down his face, going down his neck, and seeping into the collar of his shirt. He hated being the bad guy. “But, I can tell that you won’t. You look like a good kid.” After he said this, he walked through the doorway and closed it. Peter could faintly hear Tony ask Friday something about where she put Carnage’s canister, but he honestly didn’t care. He was now alone on a rooftop. Heartbroken.

Before Peter had time to sulk and cry about his situation, he heard a loud explosion. Then, he peered over the edge and saw people running out from an intersection. A villain attack?! Peter ran to the door and grabbed the handle. It’s not far. I should-

The memories of Tony Stark’s words flew through his mind like a wasp circling its victim. Peter’s grip on the handle loosened, and his shoulders hung. “Never mind,” he whispered to himself. He opened the door and slowly walked down the stairs. Right now, he just wanted to go home.

Peter hit the streets and made his trek towards the station. What was he gonna tell Aunt May? If he told her, would he ever be allowed outside the house again? Would they have to start driving him to school so they can make sure he’s safe? What was he gonna tell Wanda and Pietro? “Hey, by the way, on the way home I was attacked by the most infamous and deadly serial killer of the modern era. What game do you guys wanna play?” He could tell that whatever measures Aunt May and Uncle Ben would take to protect Peter; Pietro and Wanda’s measures would be one-hundred times more severe. They’d probably request a class transfer so they could make sure he’s safe, or at least Wanda would. As much as he’d like that, the last thing that he wanted was to burden and worry them. 

Peter made a right at the intersection and was taken out of his trance when he picked up the faint and distinct smell of burning gas. He looked up to see a group of people huddled around an entrance to an alley, as he got closer. He realized where he was. He was at the location of the explosion he heard earlier. Even though he had his hopes and dreams crushed by the most popular hero in the world, there was something in Peter’s instincts that drew him to danger. He sighed. If he was already here, he might as well get the most of it. He pushed his way through the crowd, and he saw that Multiple Man was still on patrol today as he, once again, formed a barrier between the civilians and the action. Peter felt an intense heat as fire engulfed parts of the alley. Past the barrier of men were a couple of heroes that Peter recognized: The Thing and Mr. Fantastic. The last two-thirds of the Future Foundation. By the looks of things, they were having trouble. Peter’s gaze went past them to see the villain. 

A horrible, stomach-churning feeling ravaged Peter’s body like a hurricane. He saw a monstrous indescribable form of red, but it was very familiar to him. It was Carnage, and he was in the process of eating another person. He could faintly overhear the two heroes debating on how to beat the villain. There were sounds of worry in their voices. Were they losing? Were they not prepared? 

This is my fault. Peter remembered that Iron Man said something about storing Carnage in his gauntlet. He specifically remembered him pointing to his left arm. The same arm that he used to hold Peter’s head down when they were flying. How did it fall out? Was it loose? Was it because his power was low? This is my fault and someone is going to die because of me. He covered his mouth in terror. Peter overheard some commotion in the crowd, there was talk about Iron Man. There was talk about how Iron Man was chasing Carnage earlier. People were also asking where Iron Man was. 

This is my fault this is all my fault. Peter saw a glimpse of the victim that Carnage currently had in its grasp. It was a horrifying sight. Carnage’s mouth was wide open, and razor-sharp teeth were everywhere. Its victim was inside its mouth as if it were slowly eating the victim. It was straight out of a horror movie. Peter felt like he was going to throw up. He knew how horrifying it is to be in the grasp of Carnage. He knew exactly what the victim was thinking. He suddenly heard a scream. It was a scream for help. Peter looked up, and his heart stopped.

What he saw in the mouth of Carnage, was the desperate and scared face of Eugene “Flash” Thompson. Half of it was human, and the other half was covered in his symbiote. He was holding out his arm as if he was reaching out for help.

Peter gasped.

Save him.

Peter then found himself eight feet in the air, because he just jumped over Multiple Man’s barricade. Shoes touched down on the concrete earth, and he ran. He ran faster than he ever did.

“You?!” he heard the red demon screech. He saw Flash mutter something but he didn’t hear. 

He swore he could hear the cries of the two heroes that were currently behind him, begging him to stop, but he didn’t listen. He just kept running. His legs kept moving on their own. His head tingled, and his body shivered.

Danger.

He saw Carnage whip a tendril at him, but he knew it was coming. He moved out of the way ever so slightly to the left, and the tendril completely whiffed him. 

Danger.

He heard the blood-curdling scream from the monster as it threw another tendril at him. He swiftly dodged to the right and came out unscathed as the tendril hit the ground.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

Yet another blood-curdling scream filled the air as multiple tendrils shot themselves towards Peter. Peter dove over all of them, rolled when he hit the floor to keep his momentum going, and kept running. 

Peter wasn’t even thinking at this point. He couldn’t even feel anything either. He couldn’t feel the heat of the flames around him or the pain from the scraps on his knees. Someone was in danger and he had to do something. 

He was close to Carnage now. Carnage cried another scream. As he was closing the gap between himself and the symbiote, instinct suddenly took Peter over. He held his arm up high and aimed his palm at Carnage’s eyes. His middle finger and ring finger curled into his palm, and something unexpected happened. A string of fluid shot out from Peter’s wrist and hit Carnage square in the white blotches that it called eyes. Carnage thrashed about as it couldn’t see. The strange fluid seemingly solidified and wrapped around Carnage’s face. Carnage’s grip on Flash loosened as he slid ever so slightly out of the gullet of the demon. Finally, Peter got close, took hold of Flash’s arm, and began to pull.

“Parker?! What are you doing?!” he frantically yelled.

Peter kept pulling and pulling. “I don’t know! I couldn’t stop my legs! I don’t know what’s happening!”

“Why are you here?! Get out of here!”

“Flash I…!” Peter’s face contorted into a determined grimace as tears ran down his face. “I'm not gonna stand there and watch you die!”

Flash’s eyes widened and his symbiote crawled to the edges of his face. The only human thing about Flash was his face at this point; his whole body was covered in the black symbiote. Flash bared his teeth, his eyes became pinpoint with rage, and he screamed. 

“Get the hell ‘offa me!” 

The symbiote within Flash came to life. Its own tendrils battled Carnage’s as it formed itself from Flash with a chilling figure. It looked similar to Carnage. It had white splotches where its eyes should be and it had sharp white teeth. It almost looked like it was grinning. It was black as the midnight sky, but the fires illuminated it with a subtle tinge of blue.

“Kill him! Venom!” Flash bellowed. 

Venom let out a guttural roar that shook the earth beneath them. It then bit into Carnage’s upper face with its sharp monstrous teeth as Carnage screamed in pain. 

“No! No! No!” Carnage yelled. Two large mouths flew out of Carnage’s blob-like biomass and bit hard into Venom’s neck. Venom screamed in agony. As did Flash who recoiled his free arm. Which escaped Peter’s grip, and held his neck in pain. Venom screeched in pain and fell to the side, not moving.

“This is not how playdates are supposed to go! I’m supposed to win! Always!” Carnage ripped off the solid-like fluid of his face and let out yet another roar. 

Danger!

Peter felt danger coming from his left but it was too late, tendril struck him in the stomach and wrapped itself around his torso. Peter yelled in pain. It felt like someone took a bat to his abdomen. He tried moving his arms as he struggled to get out of Carnage’s deadly grasp. He needed to get out! He needed to save Flash!

“This play date is over!” Carnage screamed. “Now go to Hell!” An extra mouth formed from Carnage’s red mass and shot itself towards Peter at a blistering speed. 

Peter’s head tingled and throbbed with pain but he could do nothing. He was trapped. He closed his eyes and braced for the inevitable. 

The roars of engines suddenly filled the air and Peter opened his eyes to see Iron Man blocking the mouth with his arm!

“Iron Man?!” Peter yelled.

Iron Man looked directly at Peter. “I really am a piece of work, huh? Apparently, I wasn’t practicing what I preached!”

“No! Not you, again!”

“Hold on, kids!” Peter felt Iron Man grab his arm and he felt him pull. Peter was no longer in the grasp of Carnage, and he saw that Iron Man had Flash in his other hand. 

He did it! 

Peter saw the light in crevices of the armor glowing multiple colors. The same colors he saw earlier that were surrounding the chest piece. 

“You know, Carnage, technically you aren’t human. You’re just a quirk!” Multi-colored light began shining from the chest piece. “Which means that I don’t have to hold back on you!”

“No!” Carnage screamed in terror. 

Iron Man dropped Peter and Flash behind him as the multi-colored energy whirled within him. He crossed his arms in an “X” formation across his chest. The colors started to flash with more intensity. Iron Man kneeled and aimed upwards with his torso. “Oh yes! Your reign of terror is over!”

“I will not be defeated! I am Carnage! I am the most powerful being on the pla-“

”Yeah?! So what?! I’m Iron Man!” he bellowed. “Take this! Unibeam!”

A giant beam of multi-colored energy exploded out of Iron Man’s chest piece and enveloped itself around Carnage. It let out one last scream as its molecules were ripped asunder, and being vaporized into nothingness. The beam went past the nearby buildings and headed straight right into the stratosphere as it left the Earth.

Peter blinked and saw that Iron Man stopped the Unibeam. It didn’t look like he was moving. Peter started to worry until Iron Man’s hand curled into a thumbs-up. He then stood on his two feet, turned to the crowd, and gave them a thumbs-up as well. The sound of a cheering crowd filled Peter’s ears, and for the first time since this morning, Peter had a genuine smile on his face.

The events of the next hour were a blur to Peter. After Carnage was vaporized by Iron Man, Peter and Flash were pulled aside by on-scene medics to be evaluated. However, during this Peter got scolded heavily by the Thing for being so reckless. Peter felt a bit intimidated by him, but deep down in his heart, he knew he did the right thing. After being let go by medical services, Peter made his trek home once again. He tried to talk to Iron Man but he was hounded by the media. 

As Peter got on the train once again, he opened up his phone once again to see that, once again, he had more messages than he can count. Everyone texted him. Aunt May, Uncle Ben, Pietro, Wanda, and even Mr. and Mrs. Maximoff, and they couldn’t even speak English too well. The texts from them touched Peter’s heart. He knew that he was loved, but it was nice to be reminded of that. He texted them all that he’s fine and he’s on the way home. However, he noticed that none of them read it. He shrugged and put his phone back in his pocket.

As the light of the setting sun filled the train car, Peter started to have questions about what he just saw. How did Iron Man do that? He had no energy left. He used the energy that was keeping him alive to pull that stunt off. Why didn’t he die? Did he not use all of it? Peter sighed and shook his head. He was so tired. He had a really long day.

Peter finally got to the Queens stop. Now it’s fixed? He touched ground and began his walk home. The sun was setting on the horizon with a beautiful orange glow and the sky danced with beautiful evening colors. The leaves were just starting to change. Peter didn’t notice it this morning, but now he realized how truly beautiful the season of Autumn can be. He turned on his street, and he saw blue and red lights in front of his house. Great. They probably think I’m missing. He turned back to the street that he was on beforehand so he wouldn’t be seen by anyone. He had to mentally prepare himself before he walked into the mess that was his front yard. 

Danger. 

“Parker!” a familiar voice barked.

Peter jumped, he knew something was coming, but he still jumped. He turned around to see Flash standing behind him. He looked furious. Peter flinched inwardly, but only for a second. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

“What do you want, Flash?” he asked with a tinge of annoyance in his voice. He was taught by his consular to take his time when he needed to stand up for himself. To take a deep breath and visualize what he was going to say and how he was going to say it. 

“I want to tell you something,” Flash’s eyes narrowed, “I didn’t ask you to save me. I didn’t need your help. I could’ve gotten out of it.” His face was red, and his speech was slurred. “I don’t need your pity! I don’t need anything from you! Not from some quirkless, weak, worthless nobody!” He turned around and began walking in the opposite direction. He stomped angrily as he went. “Don’t cross me, Wall-Crawler!”

Peter tilted his head in confusion as he saw Flash walk away. He winced when he saw him kick an innocent trash can in spite. 

I guess that’s his way of saying thank you?

A rush of concern for Flash washed over Peter. A rare occurrence. Flash stank of booze and looked pretty drunk. For a person with a symbiote to get drunk meant that they had to drink a lot of alcohol to balance out the host and the symbiote. Peter cupped his hands to his mouth.

“Flash!” he called out, “Do you know how to get home?!”

Flash turned around, his face even redder than before. “Of course I do, dumbass!” He pointed further down the road. “Go down three blocks and turn right!” He swiped the air with the hand he was pointing with and pivoted back into the direction he was walking in. “Just get outta my sight!” he yelled.

Peter gave a minuscule smile, sighed, and shook his head. I’m too nice to him… he did destroy my camera, today, though. That smile went directly in a frown. Great. Peter turned back around. He had to prepare himself again. 

Dick. He just had to ruin my focus. 

He took a deep breath, formulated his plan, figured out what he was going to say, and visualized how everything was going to go down. He decided he was ready and almost took his first step before he was interrupted again.

“Hey, kid!” A familiar voice shouted from above Peter. Peter looked up and saw Iron Man flying towards him.

An expression of shock found itself on Peter’s face.

“Iron Ma-?!” Before Peter could finish his shriek, Iron Man firmly planted his palm onto Peter’s mouth. Peter could practically taste the metal of the iron. Which was kind of disgusting.

“Are you going to do that every time?” he asked.

Peter shook his head and Iron Man let go of his mouth. Like last time, Peter had questions. 

“So how did you escape the media they always hound you whenever you do hero work and also speaking of hero work how the hell did you do that and not die you explicitly told me that if you use that energy that’s keeping you alive which I have some theories about by the way you would literally die because your heart isn’t beating and also explain to me how that makes sense because I’m losing my Goddam-“

Suddenly the armor ran out of power again and revealed the zombie-like Tony Stark to which Peter promptly screamed in terror. Once Peter calmed down. Tony sighed and began to speak.

“I’ll answer all that in a bit, but right now, I gotta tell you two things, one’s a statement and one’s a question.”

Peter nodded cautiously. 

“Okay, so, question first.” Tony sharply inhaled. “Why did you lie to me?”

Peter was utterly taken aback. “Wh-what?!”

“Your quirk! You told me you didn’t have a quirk!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t have one! What are you saying?!”

“Kid, I saw it. You jumped ten feet in the air over a human barricade. Ran faster than any kid your age can. Dodged every single attack thrown at you, with style, if I might add. And you shot that stringy stuff out of your wrist!”

Peter was grasping for an explanation. Any explanation. There’s no way he had a quirk. No way. This was all some sort of misunderstanding. 

“Listen, uh, Mister Stark, what I said to you was true. I don’t have a quirk! You can check my medical record, I’m quirkless.” He looked towards the ground, feeling dejected. “All of that earlier must have been a misunderstand-“

Danger.

“-ing.” Peter’s eyes widened. What just happened? Peter looked up and saw that his hand was holding a pen, and from the look of it, the pen was thrown at his head. Peter looked at Tony with disbelief. Tony had a smug look on his face. 

No way. 

“Oh my God. I have a quirk,” Peter muttered with a little chuckle of utter disbelief. 

“Now that we’ve proven that theory. Statement second. Thank you, kid. I mean that. If you didn’t figure it out by now, I was in the crowd. I showed up and felt utterly helpless. I couldn’t do anything. No. It’s that I wouldn’t do anything. I was too scared. Too scared to die.” His face darkened with regret as he said this. Then, he looked up at Peter and smiled. “But, then I saw you. This kid. This stupid, arrogant kid. Whose dreams were just crushed by his idol. Who was told by the most popular hero in the world that he could not be a hero. This kid ran in there with no hope. This kid that thought he had no quirk; ran in as if he had a plan to save the day. Let me guess. Your legs started to move on their own, didn’t they?”

Peter nodded frantically.

Tony chuckled. “Figured as much. It’s a phenomenon. Heroes claim that it happens all the time. When they run headfirst into danger and they don’t stop. They don’t think about their own wellbeing. They only think about saving people. That’s what happened to you. Kid. What I’m about to say is something that I say very rarely. I was wrong. Dead wrong.”

The wind blew through the dying leaves of the Autumn trees. The setting sun looked like it illuminated Tony from behind him. He was both in shadow and light. The Arc Reactor in his chest burned brightly through his clothes. Peter then noticed how beautiful the evening sky was. Vibrant shades of pink, yellow, blue, and orange danced in the atmosphere. Time stopped and nothing mattered at that moment except the words that Peter thought he was going to hear. Breathing became harder for him as his chest started to become extremely heavy. His eyes stung as they began to water, and thus his vision became blurry.

“I’d be saying this even if you didn’t have a quirk. Because even though you apparently have one now, you still believed that you were quirkless when you ran in.”

Don’t say it, Peter thought. Don’t you dare say it. I’ve cried so much today. So much! I don’t think I have enough in me to cry again! Peter clutched his chest and he fell to his knees as tears rolled down his face. His body began to shiver as anticipation took him over. Memories from the past flew through his mind like a bird flying into a house and exiting through an open window. Memories of the day he was told he was quirkless. Memories of him, Uncle Ben, and Aunt May all excitedly watching the latest villain attack on the news. Memories of the day when he tried to save a boy from Flash. Memories of the day when he met Wanda and Pietro. Memories of the day where they all promised to attend Avengers Academy and become heroes together. Memories of every beating from Flash, of every hug from Aunt May and Uncle Ben, of every time somebody told him that he couldn’t be a hero, and of every time either Wanda, Pietro, Uncle Ben, or Aunt May told him that he most certainly could become a hero and a damn good one at that.

“Kid, you can become a hero,” Tony Stark stated with a genuine and sincere tone.

The floodgates opened. Peter Parker officially broke. His question was finally answered. He had a quirk. He could start his dream. He could finally start his journey to becoming an Avenger.

“Hey, so, uh, I’m gonna need that pen back.”

Me (11:00 PM): hey u up?

Harry Osborn (11:01 PM): DUDE HELL YEAH IM UP I JUST SAW YOU ON THE NEWS

Me (11:05 PM): YEAH I KNOW THAT WAS WILD

Harry Osborn (11:06 PM): So do you like have a quirk now????

Me (11:10 PM): Yeah I think?? I didn’t have the chance to play around with it cuz of all the police that were at my house. And May and Wanda scolded me for hours

Harry Osborn (11:11 PM): Wanda’s probably training so she can whip you into submission when she ties the knot with you ;D

Me (11:16 PM): >:-[ shut up!

Harry Osborn (11:17 PM): I can hear it now, the screams of agony as she literally ping pongs you across the room over and over again for working too much as a hero >:)

Me (11:24 PM): You enjoy this don’t you?

Harry Osborn (11:24 PM): You love it you know you do

Me (11:30 PM): No. I don’t. Anyway, you free to have a video call soon? I was at Avengers Tower, and they mentioned that your dad’s company is doing quirk research with Stark Industries.

Harry Osborn (11:31 PM): oh you found out about that? Lol yeah it’s a thing that dads investing in to like you know Cure me lol but yeah dude! I’m free this Friday or Saturday

Me (11:33 PM): Saturday please lol Wanda has Pietro and I tied down to go see some movie that day

Harry Osborn (11:34 PM): Pietro gonna sit between you two lovebirds? ;)

Me (11:45 PM): oh shut up. We’re just friends!! Just friends, I don’t know why people think that there’s something more!

Harry Osborn (11:46 PM): lolll! just busting your balls bud

Me (11:55 PM): well stop! They hurt! lol but anyway, believe it or not I’m still going to school tomorrow lol so I gotta get to sleep. Night dude!

Harry Osborn (11:56 PM): Good night man!! Welcome to the “wonderful” world of quirks! Good thing your’s doesn’t kill you like mine does. 

Me (12:00 AM): Oh shush lol we’ll find a cure for you! I promise! Good night :)

To be continued...

#my hero academia fanfic #marvel fanfiction #my avengers academy #my hero academia #Spideywitch #peter parker #wanda maximoff #venom #IzuOcha #action #tony stark #symbiotes

[supernaturalmarauders]

Welcome home (SPN cast reader x crew and boyfriend)

Summary: the readers boyfriend is in the navy and had been deployed for the past year and a half. The boys surprise the reader at a con, and the whole audience knows. And at the end he proposes.

Warnings: crying, fluff, laughing, basic Jared and Jensen joking.

Please give me feedback I’ve wanted to write this for a while I’ve just struggled

You and they boys were currently at a con. You had been going to cons since you were eighteen; and you were now 21. Honestly you knew the boys had been doing it a lot longer, but for you cons freaked you out. You tended to be one of those people who didn’t care however when it came to cons you cared the most. Everything had been going pretty smothly so far. You always enjoyed cons with Jared and Jensen because they were the two funniest people you know.

Xxxxxxx

“My question is for Y/N” said the audience member which made Jared her fake angry and Jensen to just seriously judge Jared.

“Don’t worry about them sweetie, Jared’s just a two year old in disguise. What your question” you ask politely ignoring Jared hurt expression.

“Well, we know about everyone one else’s love life but we don’t know about yours. I understand if it’s to personal but I was curious if there was possibly a boyfriend in your life” asked the lady from the audience. Suddenly everything when’d quiet, which made you feel uncomfortable.

“Umm... I didn’t really think it was ever that much of a secret but yeah, I do have a boyfriend. I haven’t seen him for a year and a half since he’s been deployed in the army” you say in honestly. The audience just smile and Jared and Jensen look at you making you feel even more uncomfortable.

“Okay next question” says Jared noticing how uncomfortable you were getting. Jared picks another woman in the audience whom also has another question for you.

“So I also have a boyfriend in the military, however he’s only been deployed for about a month. I was wondering what it’s like having such a long distance relationship” said the lady. You sad smile understanding what she was going through.

“Honestly it get easier but harder at the same time. Because you become used to being by yourself without him next to you all the time. But it’s also hard because you can go weeks without a letter and be terrified because you have no if your boyfriend is still alive. And sometimes it gets really hard to think about all the things your missing. I think though, I can give you one word of advice. If you miss him just think about all the good he is doing for you and so many other people. Because without people in the military than the world would fall apart” you say smiling. The lady smiles and passes the mic back to the man.

Xxxxx

“Okay guys so we’re going to have a little competition. Y/N, and Jared are going to see how many darts they can get closest to the bullseye. But there’s a catch, if they win, then they get a suprise”. Said jensen causing the audince to cheer 

“When he says surprise, he means, there isn’t a surprise. he just wants to see weaher a girl can beet a guy at a simple task such as sharades” you say causing audiene to once again laugh and jared and jensen to glare at you. 

jensen brought out the targets and the games began. it wasn’t much of a competition seeing as jared could hardly get a shot in without it bouncing off the metal. you however managed to get almost every shot smack bang centre. honestly you were suspicious . jared was always pretty good witch accuracy and never had an off day, ever. and it wasn’t like jared to just loose and sit back and take it. he always threw a very fake overdramatic tantrum. 

“And Y/N finally won somethin against jared” mocked jensen making you put your hnds on your hips. 

“Seriously, am i the only one who thinks thats a bit fishy” you ask to the audience, all of which reply with a shake of there heads, indicating that they did not see anything wrong. What you didn’t know was that they were in on everything.

“Let me guess, I win a bag of snail shells, and an extra week of planking from the two of you” you say with sarcasm.

“We aren’t that mean Y/N” said Jared mock hurt.

“Sure you aren’t” you say rolling your eyes making the audience laugh.

“Here read this out loud” said Jensen passing you a letter.

“Hey baby, this note is currently being written a day before I leave you. If your reading this it means that times are getting tougher. Stay strong Y/N, I love you so much” you finish whispering and trying to stop the tears escaping your eyes.

“Why would you make me read that” you say trying to contain the emotions that you felt.

“ turn around” says Jared making you look at the screen behind you, suddenly is on the screen. The very last picture you had of you and your boyfriend.

“Why are you torturing me like this” you say, unable to contain the emotions. Not realisisng what had happened untill you heard a familiar voice behind you, one you never thought you would hear again.

“Because I asked them to” said the voice. You turned around so slowly you couldn’t believe your eyes. Suddenly nigers falls started falling from your eyes as you gripped onto your boyfriend for dear life, letting his uniform soak the tears you had in your eyes. The audience were flashing photos and gen and Daneel who were backstage with the kids couldn’t stop the tears from falling down there cheeks.

“I missed you baby” he said not removing you from his embrace. Unable to reply you removed your head from his shoulder and smashed your lips into his, causing the audience to erupt in cheers. The kids was very rough, but contained all the emotions that you had. Gen and daneel came out of the wings to go and be with there husbands. They were no where near taking your moment away, but they were not about to miss what was going to happen.

After the kiss ended you just stood there falling into his embrace.

“I love you” you say loud enough for the audience to hear but muffled by his shirt.

“I know you do” he says pulling you tighter to his chest. During that time many fans had not turned of there phones continuing to record everything that was happening. Daneel and Jensen were crying, and Jensen and Jared had smiles from ear to ear.

“You were all in on this, weren’t you” you say pulling away from your boyfriend and looking at them.

“Maybe said Jensen and Jared in unison making you smile. You ran into there arms, not sparing anytime in giving all four of them big hugs, thanking each and everyone one of them individually. What you didn’t notice was that a video started playing behind you. What alerted you however was the sound of the audience starting to sing falling in love by lily Reinhart.

You looked up frozen in your place as you watched the videos and photos from you and your boyfriends 4 years of dating, even the ones where you were so little. You couldn’t help the water works as they once again flowed freely out of your eyes. Once the video had stopped you looked over to Jared and Jensen who were gesturing to you to turn around, slowly you turned around and saw your boyfriend on one knee holding a box with a beautiful ring.

You instantly broke into one of the biggest rages of sobs you had ever experienced. Your boyfriend smiled and everyone elses “awwed”

“ Y/N Y/L/N, I have loved you for four years, and I can’t imagine my life without you, and I never want to go another day in fear that I’m going to loose the one woman who u would do anything for. You are so special to me and never want to loose you, not ever. You make me the happiest man alive , and bring a smile to my face every time I see you. So Y/N, Will you marry me” finished your boyfriend running a finger through is H/C hair.

You break down for what felt like the 100th time and run into his hands once again making his uniform soaked. You stood there for a few minutes sharing a deep kiss trying to tell him how much you love him.

“You never answered my question” he said once again going to one knee, the audience stopped and sat in anticipation while j2 held there wives closer.

“Of course you Idiot” you say looking into his eyes whilst the audience applaud, and Jared and Jensen cat whistle. He slide the ring onto your finger and you wipe your eyes. He embrace you in a hug not letting you go. The cheering of the audience started to blur out whilst you were in your lovers embrace, nothing else mattered at that time, just that you were with the person you love most, and would love most for the rest of you’re life.

“Let’s give it up for loving couple everyone” you hear Jared say into the mic, making you pull you chest away from your now fiancés. You smiled into the audience and help up both your hands, making them cheer even louder.

There were very few moments you had ever experienced emotions as strong as this. You once again hugged (boyfriend name) and weren’t letting go. He tightened his grip around you indicating that he was never letting you go.

You knew for the first time in a long time that you would fall into a easy sleep, with (boyfriend name) holding you, and the people you considered your family right beside you

Sorry it’s so short and crappy, like if you want, I don’t mind, I hope you enjoyed. I just wanted to write about something that would make people smile. Yeah I know the vocabs pretty bad. There will be mistakes but I will go through and fix them later.

#supernatural #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #love live #military #boyfriend #proposal #gen padalecki #fiancè #engagedlife #homecoming

[hashtag-amf]

Welcome to my Tumblr blog. Here I will give my honest opinions and pour out my thoughts about the ideas behind my Wattpad books. You can take inspiration from this blog when you are planning to write a novel. I wanted to write a separate Wattpad book where I could talk about this. But I then decided that I wanted to reach a wider audience, and Tumblr was better suited for this purpose.

Please note: This will be posted in parts every Friday!

Edited by @wayward-heronstairs , @hashtag-amf and Hemingway Editor

I started my Wattpad journey in May 2016. I was staying at my cousin’s house, and she asked me whether I knew about the app called Wattpad. I had never heard the name before. It was such an odd name for an app, I thought to myself. I was not interested in downloading the app because reading didn't appeal to so much. A few hours later, I downloaded Wattpad. Yay.

Then came the shocker. I got my first follower. A thin guy with spectacles. I was nervous because I had never been on a social media platform before. I didn't know what to do. I was staring at his profile pic, wondering if he was a psychopath or just crazy enough to follow me on Wattpad. I am anxious like that. I wondered how on earth did he find my account within six hours as I had not posted any stories on Wattpad yet.

The first book I read on Wattpad was fanfic about 'The Fault in Our Stars.' At that time, I had no idea what fanfic was. I picked that book to read because I had watched TFIOS twice now. Unfortunately, I didn't like the fanfic, so I uninstalled the app the same night.

Then came December of 2016. It was the Christmas holidays, and I was very tired of studying. I owned that crappy Nokia XL neon green phone. Urgh, that stock Android phone was a nightmare. I downloaded Wattpad and looked for some good books to read. At that time, Midika Crane’s books were a huge hit. Her books had those dark black and white covers were guys with eight pack abs stared out of the cover at the reader. At first, I hated the cover because I thought she hadn't done a great job of selecting a good cover for the book. I remember clicking on 'Alpha Kaden', a currently published novel. I had spent half an hour on one page trying to decipher what was written. Halfway through the Prologue and I couldn't read more. Her professional level of writing was not understandable by me.

When I was halfway done with Midika’s book, I added ‘She’s With Me’ by Ava Violet to my Wattpad reading list. It was such an amazing book. I loved reading it. It was about Amelia who was running away from her past. She had enrolled herself in the school. I don’t remember the name because I read it a long time back) and she meets the heartthrob of the school and his friends. The story was like a cliché romance novel but what stood out was Amelia’s back story.

After reading more than 90 books on Wattpad I decided to make a writing debut on Wattpad. I spent more time reading Wattpad books than studying. I would read Wattpad books in the canteen, the student's study room, at home when my mom wasn't watching. It was addicting. In 2017, the first book I wrote was a fanfic of Hellboy, the 2004 film. I never imagined myself writing fanfiction about a movie I was so scared to watch. As a child, I was so terrified of that movie that the moment I saw Hellboy on the screen, I would look away in fear. All that I remember as a kid was the scene from the second installment of the movie 'The Golden Army'. He was holding twin infants wrapped in a white blanket. There was some sort of fantasy creatures running around the street. Hellboy was spot on with his aim, that she shot them with his gun.

Then in May 2014, I got a chance to watch Hellboy on the television again. As a teenager, I wasn't scared of him anymore, but I was more intrigued by it. I loved that movie so much that I had a crush on John Myers (Rupert Evans). He was 'the dude that didn't get the girl', you know. I empathized with him as he took so much trouble by fighting alongside Hellboy. He deserved more.

Later in the movie, the professor tells John that he is dying, and Hellboy needs someone in his absence. In the movie, Hellboy treated Myers like trash. He is more of a nanny and less of an FBI Agent. And because of this, Myers tells the professor that he cannot stay at the BRDP any longer. The professor tells him that he chose him for a reason as he saw potential in Myers. He adds that in many medieval stories there is a white night and Myers was that. He tells him to take care of Hellboy after he passes away.

Another reason why I felt like writing fanfic was that Myers and Liz's chemistry was so adorable. He tried his best to flirt with Liz (Selma Blair). I hoped that he and Liz ended up as a couple. But Hollywood movies are unkind to side actors. So, when Hellboy got the girl, my heart dropped. My heart couldn't handle it. I was screaming at this heartbreaking injustice. I was like, this man needs a girl. I had to make a way to help him get the girl so that I didn't have this heaviness building inside me.

Above: Rupert Evans as John Myers in Hellboy (2004)

And thanks to being a Wattpad writer, I came up with my own story. I named it Hellboy 3. The reason for keeping this title was because of Hellboy: The Golden Army released in 2008. I didn’t want to confuse readers about which Hellboy movie the fanfic was about. I researched Wikipedia thinking that Rupert Evans had reprised his role as John Myers in it, but I was wrong. As per Wikipedia reports, Evans was filming ‘The Kiss of a Spiderwoman’ so he couldn’t be a part of the movie.

Writing the fanfic was challenging. I was stumbling through the dialogues and the scenes. I thought that this will not get more than 20 chapters, but if I am not wrong, it surpassed 20 chapters. The story got some likes, some encouraging comments, but then I was not happy with my writing. I deleted it.

In 2017-ish, I wrote another story about vampires. I wrote down the story on one of the leftover books I had in my drawer. I had a good time writing it as it was one of my original stories. I made my original characters, a mythical place cursed by time. I named it ‘The Kingsmen’. Then after I had filled half of the pages by writing, I decided it was time to edit. I posted it on Wattpad. I published the chapters with no updating schedule. After surpassing fifteen chapters, I deleted the book because the grammar was awful. I felt I was adding unnecessary commas after the dialogues. I didn't have someone to edit the story, and I also had this nagging suspicion that my mom knew I wasn't studying. I hated college because I would get tired, and the studies bored me to the core. I studied for the heck of it. Everything was fine when one fine day, I forgot the password to my Wattpad account.

It was hell on earth. Panic rose within me. It was like the end of the world was near. I tried to calm myself down. I had to remember the password. I felt that I was such a miserable person for forgetting a simple thing as a password. I tried password recovery. I scourged my Gmail account for the recovery link, but Wattpad wasn't sending the link. At that time, Wattpad was super slow when it came to sending recovery links for passwords. I remember Wattpad sent me recovery passwords five hours later. Wattpaders know that logging via recovery link is time-sensitive. When I clicked the link, Wattpad said that the link wasn't valid. I did this three times till my patience wore me out.

I was devastated. I had put so much of my heart and soul while writing that book. It was my baby, and now the account was gone….I didn't cry. Thank God I didn't cry. I was sad. It felt like someone took a piece of my heart away from me and didn't return it.

This is how it looked:

In January 2018, I made a new account on Wattpad. Now I have written down all the passwords in a notebook, not going to repeat the mistake.

Okay! This was the end of part one. Tell me how you liked it!!

By the way, I got the chance to watch Hellboy (2004) on the television today. John Myers is such a cutie!! Please check my latest IG highlights for the video. I cannot embedded the video on Tumblr :( 

#writingwithalizeypart1 #hashtagamf #wattpadwriting #wattpad #newpost #writers on tumblr #writingideas #behindthestory #wattpaders #writinginspirat #newwritingtips #writeathon #writing #howtogetwritingideas

[amyscascadingtabs]

the missing pieces of my heart, they finally collide

The socks are the smallest thing he has ever seen.

Jake isn’t sure how exactly he ended up having a low-key freakout in the middle of the day at an H&M, but he figures there is a first for everything - public meltdowns over impending fatherhood included.

(In which Jake is scared of fatherhood and baby socks are really, really tiny.)

read on ao3

april

The socks are the smallest thing he has ever seen.

Jake isn’t sure how exactly he ended up having a low-key freakout in the middle of the day at an H&M, but he figures there is a first for everything - public meltdowns over impending fatherhood included.

He has been doing well with his fears since they found out about Amy being pregnant. He didn’t panic when she showed him the beginning of her pregnancy binder. He stayed calm at their first visit to the obstetrician. He did shed a tear when they got to hear a loud and strong heartbeat and see a tiny, white, moving blur that’s supposedly their baby on a screen for the first time, but in his defense, Amy cried more.

They're having a kid now, and he's ready; as ready as he feels he can be at this point. Come early December this year, he'll be saying farewell to full nights of sleep, double shifts at work and watching all the movies for adults and teens he can think of.

It’s a guarded excitement. For now, it’s this humongous secret they carry around, trying to explain away their absence at Shaw’s nights and why it looks like Amy’s always about five seconds from either throwing up or falling asleep, without revealing the truth just yet. At the same time, it’s the knowledge their lives are about to be forever changed, and it’s equal shares thrilling and petrifying.

They’ve known for three weeks, which is not a lot of time - Jake has eaten older lunches from the precinct’s fridge at least twice - but already he’s spent oceans of time thinking about it. It just so happens that when he’s not doing everything to take care of his exhausted, nauseous, and emotional wife, his thoughts circle back to the monochrome sonogram picture and the indescribable, undiluted love building inside him whenever he looks at it in his phone gallery.

He’s excited, but he’s never been more scared in his life. He’s worried about miscarriages and diseases and complications and how there’s such a thing as sudden infant death where a baby can straight-up die without any explanation. He’s scared of doing too much and not doing enough and he’s helplessly scared of becoming his own father, and so far the only person he can talk about it with is Amy. The problem is he doesn’t want to bother her with his asinine fears; he’s sure that reminding her of all the terrible things he’s learned can happen will do more harm than good, plus she’s exhausted all the time now and would likely fall asleep in the middle of the conversation. He finds it endearing how she’ll fight to keep her eyes open before falling asleep next to him on the couch, but she’s become pretty much worthless in any conversation longer than three minutes. Consequently, Jake’s keeping his fears to himself for now, taking deep breaths and hovering with his thumb over the number to the shrink he had a series of appointments with a year ago.

He takes it one day at a time. It’s what he tells Amy to do when she complains about feeling too sick and miserable to appreciate anything, so he figures he might as well follow his own advice. He handles things to the best of his ability, trudges his way through a few pages in his copy of The Expectant Father: The Ultimate Guide For Dads-To-Be when Amy falls asleep, and every Wednesday there is a new fruit or vegetable comparison available on the pregnancy app he’s downloaded. This week, their baby is the size of a raspberry, so naturally he bought two jars of them when he stopped by the fruit seller earlier in the day.

(“Are you going to do this for every week?” His wife had asked with a curious gleam to her eyes as he made her company while she ate a late, bland breakfast.

“Only for the fruits I actually like," he’d told her, and she'd laughed before accepting a few of the berries he held out to her.)

The original agenda for their Saturday was to run errands together, but Amy's had a long week already without enough time to rest. A pregnancy podcast he listened to yesterday told him that rest is crucial if you're pregnant, so Jake promptly instructed his wife to spend her day on the couch while he completed their to-do-list on his own. Her grateful smile when he handed her their best fluffy blanket and made her a cup of green lemon tea before leaving told him he made the right choice.

So far, he’s mailed a gift for Amy's great-aunt, left a carpet at the dry cleaner and picked up more of his wife’s favorite pink grapefruit shower gel. He’s also informed Amy of all this via Snapchat, using the most ridiculous filters he could find to put a smile on her lips and received equally hilarious pictures back. The last errand before food shopping is H&M; one of his best navy hoodies caught on fire at work last week, and Jake can’t risk being out of a hoodie - the world could collapse for less. He finds one that seems decent and is about to go pay for it when he catches sight of the neon sign from the corner of his eye. BABY, 0-12 MONTHS.

They’ve agreed not to start buying clothes for a few more weeks. Even window-shopping for them without Amy feels like cheating, yet it's as if a gravitational force is pulling him towards the newborn clothing section. Just to have a look, he defends it to himself as he enters it.

All the clothes are tiny.

All the clothes are overwhelmingly tiny, too much for him to take in even though he’s not sure what he expected. He walks around in a daze, eventually coming to a stop at a shelf with baby socks. Right in front of him hangs a grey-and-white two-pack with writing on them - the white pair says I ♥️ MUM, and the grey pair I ♥️ DAD.

That’s when Jake loses it.

Up until this point, he hasn’t cried. There was the single tear at their first ultrasound, the one he’s not counting in comparison to Amy’s flood of them, but aside from that? No crying. He’s held it together like the responsible dad and family man he’s going to have to become in about seven months, but he runs his finger over the soft cotton blend stuck to a piece of white cardboard, and a stubborn tear trails down his cheek. Then another, and another, bringing with them panicked breathing and a sensation of walls closing in on him.

He’s going to be a dad. He’s going to have partial responsibility for a miniature human at least up until the day they turn eighteen years old. He knows what a good dad is from watching Terry and Charles and even Holt, but he lacks all perception when it comes to the question of whether he knows how to be one.

There will be a whole new person in his world, demanding attention, love, and care. He’s going to make mistakes and have to hope what he’ll do right will be enough to outweigh them. He’s excited but he’s scared and he’s scared but he’s excited - the two keep conflicting, and he’s never certain which is stronger. He’s not sure it matters when he’s standing in a clothing store, unable to make himself stop panic-breathing and crying as he clutches the two-pack of unfathomably minuscule socks.

“Sir? Sir, I’m sorry, but are you okay?” A warm hand touches his shoulder through the leather jacket, and he spins around to find a tan-skinned, round-cheeked young woman with dark curls and an employee tag in a red lanyard around her neck. She’s giving him a worried look, and he blushes with instant embarrassment.

“Yeah, yeah.” He snivels, wiping a few tears on the sleeve of his jacket. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay," she assures him, though it sounds tentative. A wave of guilt crashes over him as he realizes how terrible a customer she must find him; no retail employee can want to spend their underpaid hours comforting crying strangers. “Has something happened?”

“They’re so small," Jake mumbles, and she raises an eyebrow, so he clarifies. “The socks.”

“They’re for babies.”

“I know.”

“So… they’re supposed to be small.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the issue here?”

“I’m going to be a dad," he blurts out to her, realizing it's the first time he's said the words out loud. They feel foreign, like he's speaking from the perspective of another stellar undercover personality he just made up, but easier than he expected them to. “This November. My wife and I are having a baby.”

The employee smiles at him. “Aww! Congratulations. That’s amazing.”

“It is," he admits. “I’m really happy about it. But you know, it’s this huge responsibility. I suck at being responsible and I had a crappy dad.” Jake grimaces. “Like, seriously, the crappiest. Mayor of Craptown in the country of Crappy Dads.”

“You're scared you'll suck at it, too?” He nods, and she shakes her head, shrugging. “You probably won't. Lots of mediocre guys have kids that grow up perfectly fine.”

“I… thanks?”

“If you ask me," she continues, “the fact that you’re scared just means you want to do a good job. If you want to do a good job, I’m pretty sure that means you love your kid. Put those two together and you have a solid basis.”

Her comment makes Jake's mind flick back to the moment with Amy in the hospital lobby after his negotiation with Pam. He’d realized then how maybe fear could, in the end, be the key to guaranteeing he would do a good job. Trusting said realization is another thing entirely - but he wants to, and he tries to.

He clears his throat. “I do love my kid. I mean, I barely know them yet and I love them already. It doesn't even make sense.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll be okay.”

“Do you have kids, or…?”

She gives him an honest chortle before shaking her head again. “I have a cat, though.”

“Ah.”

“Are you going to buy those socks, by the way? Not to be a jerk, but I feel like you crying on them means you gotta buy them.”

“... yeah. Yeah, I’ll buy them.”

He leaves the store feeling equal parts humiliated and relieved, painfully aware he owes Amy an explanation for buying the first item of clothing for their baby without her, but somehow, he leaves it feeling better.

(He tells Amy about his breakdown when he gets home. The next day, he goes back to leave a handwritten thank-you-note for the friendly employee.)

october

Her clothes are the smallest thing he has ever seen.

With eight weeks left to the due date, Jake is getting used to the thought of what’s to come. The arrival of their daughter - they’re having a daughter, his intuition is better than Amy’s - is fast approaching, and if it wasn’t clear enough to him from the close to finished nursery in their apartment and the stroller on its way to them, Charles now has a daily countdown on his phone.

(“64 days today," had been his greeting yesterday, and Jake couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed.)

He struggles to determine whether he feels ready, but he does feel prepared, which makes the worries easier to live with. Amy made them a Type-A-style preparation checklist the day she entered her twelfth week of pregnancy, and though Jake found it excessive at first, he knows they wouldn't have survived without it. Not only have they researched and purchased everything an infant could possibly need in terms of material things and watched four informative documentaries together, but he’s also read two and a half books about babies and parenthood and gone to a class in parenting. It turned out to be one of the weirdest experiences of his life, but at least it made him a self-proclaimed master in the art of holding a fake baby doll correctly.

His excitement is genuine now - no longer clouded beneath the veil of apprehension and nervousness it once was. It's impossible not to feel excited when every night, he'll curl up next to Amy on the couch and simply talk to their baby, drawing lazy patterns with his fingers on her bump until he's able to feel a foot or an arm, their kid kicking and pressing and doing somersaults at the sound of his voice. When he's unsure what to talk about, he’ll read Harry Potter or play Taylor Swift to his unborn daughter. Style, so far, appears to be her favorite.

The nursery has only a few last touches left to it before it’s fully ready. This week, they’re spending their Saturday dealing with one of them and sorting out their kid’s collection of clothes. It's turned out to be a project for a full day - first washing everything with hypoallergenic laundry detergent, then letting each item hang to dry, then folding, sorting and placing everything in the dresser. Jake’s been staring at newborn clothes for hours on end, and he still can't fathom how small they are.

He's seen them before, of course. He was there to buy most of them and has marveled over everything from the tiny hats to the Harry Potter-onesies to the red-and-black-checkered baby flannel Amy found, several times already. It doesn't seem to help; for each colorful item with animals, stripes or bright colors he folds and places in its correct pile, he's reminded his kid will be wearing these clothes. Once the initial sparks of excitement fade, the waves of fear he thought he was free of engulf him anew.

It's the fear he's felt each time he's been held at gunpoint, except he's no longer fearing for his own life but for his child’s. He fears something terrible will happen to them which he won't be able to stop and he fears he will be the cause of it. It's the fear that reappears at odd occasions, submerging him in nightmare scenarios of long-time undercover operations only he can execute. He fears death threats forcing him into witness protection. It's the fear where he imagines a five-year-old with Amy's nose and dark hair standing in front of him with crossed arms and downcast eyes asking where he's been for the last weeks, and then Amy's there as well asking the same thing. He fears having no better answer to give than I got too wrapped up wanting to solve a case again, I forgot to come home.

Though he’ll do everything in his power to be a good parent, there’s an inevitable risk he’ll fail. It shakes him and it haunts him and seems to paralyze him right then and there.

“Babe?” Amy’s voice, calm but suspecting, helps him snap out of it. He looks up from the mint-green onesie with smiling clouds he’s holding to find her watching him with worried advertence.  “You zoned out.”

“Sorry, Ames. You were saying?”

“Oh, just about the car seat.” She nods in the direction of a carton box near the door. “I was thinking we should install it tomorrow.”

“Car seat. Great. That’s cool," he mumbles in an attempt to fake normalcy and steer the conversation away from his looming meltdown. “Cool, cool, cool.”

“Jake.”

“I’m fine.”

Amy rolls her eyes at that, shuffling a few inches closer to him on the long-pile rug with what little gracefulness she can manage. “Clearly not. Come on, you can talk to me.”

“You don’t have to listen," he assures her, but she shakes her head.

“I already am. Wanna tell me what’s up?”

The words stagger on the tip of his tongue, faltering before he figures out how to express them.

“It's the same things. Same fears as before.”

“Do you need to talk about them?”

He does, to some extent, but she's heard his panicked thoughts before and helped him through them what feels like a million times. His eight months pregnant wife deserves better than listening to his preposterous fears when they're supposed to be folding clothes.

“I don't want to bother you," he excuses himself.

Amy glares at him in reaction. It’s the glare reserved for when one of her uniformed officers makes a detrimental mistake, or he tells her he thinks they might be ordering too much Polish food, wordlessly telling him he's made a mistake.

“I think I can handle it," she says. “Do you want to talk about them?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She nods, putting a pair of newborn-size white pajamas with red hearts in the sleepwear pile and holding his left hand in hers. Their fingers intertwine, wedding rings next to one another. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

There’s guilt as he rambles to her about equally unlikely scenarios and the fears he was supposed to have let go of by now. He’d meant it when he said he felt ready a little over a year ago, and he loves and wants the child that gets the hiccups in the middle of her parents’ conversation so much, which he assures Amy of in about every other sentence. The fear doesn't take away from the love, but it makes it feel more inaccessible at times, harder to reach behind the dense fog of anxiety. Jake detests that feeling. He wants to love this child without the overpowering fear, wants to feel the excitement he’s gotten used to always, and most of all, he doesn’t want to have to doubt himself each and every second of each day.

Amy’s silent while she listens. She doesn’t utter a word until she’s sure he’s finished, catching his breath from the anxiety and fast-paced talking. Instead, she hugs him from the side, letting him rest his head on her shoulder while he slowly returns to a calmer peace of mind.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m not excited," he whispers once he can speak again.

“I see your face every time she kicks when you talk to her," she replies matter-of-factly, guiding his right hand to rest high up on her belly where the hiccups have calmed down only to be replaced with stubborn kicking. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin, and he laughs at the timing. “No one could ever see that and think you’re not excited.”

“I know.” He sighs. “But I’m not doing anything right now, it’s all you. The moment she’s here, it’ll be different. What if I don’t know what to do?”

“You know what to do, you’re practically Santiago-level-prepared at this point.”

“What if I blank?”

“You won’t blank.”

“What if?”

“Jake.”

“I know, I know.” A metallic taste in his mouth makes him realize he’s bleeding, having bitten too hard on his lip. “You have total faith in me and all that.”

“You’re saying it like you think I don't mean it," she points out, eyes narrowed. “I do have total faith in you, because I know you and would never have agreed to have this baby with you if I didn't trust you could handle it.”

“I’m scared, though. I thought I wouldn’t be scared at this point, but it’s still there.”

“So am I. So is everyone who's ever been a parent.” There’s a small smile on Amy’s lips as she reaches for a pair of socks from the pile of them. “I think it’s part of it.”

“It’s the worst part," he argues, and she lets out a short laugh.

“Maybe it is. I guess we’ll just have to see if it’s worth it.” She hands him the socks, and he can’t help but beam as he recognizes them.

They’re light grey and impossibly tiny,  with I ♥️ DAD printed on them in capital letters. It’s the very first item of clothing he bought for his child, having been made to purchase them ensuing his breakdown in an H&M store five long months ago. He’d nearly forgotten about them, but he holds them in his hands now, wondering how on earth an item smaller than his palm could ever fit a living person.

“That’s true, you know," Amy tells him in a quiet voice. He looks up to find her eyes glistening, but she wipes the threatening tears away before they fall this time. “She’s going to love you so much. She already does.”

“How can you know?”

“For one, she goes absolutely nuts when you're talking.” Amy shakes her head, grinning fondly. “Even if you’re not physically there. Like last week, when you left that message about being on your way home. I listened to it on speaker and she started kicking me in the ribs. She's getting strong now, so it hurts.”

He laughs, blushing. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. It's super cute, and it totally gets my dumb, hormone-fuelled emotions every time.”

She leans slightly forward and he takes the hint, letting go of the disarmingly cute socks to lock lips with his wife. It's short and perhaps not the most passionate of kisses, quickly interrupted the moment Amy gets too out of breath, but it lasts long enough for him to enjoy the feel of her lips against his, the softness of her skin as he cups her face.

“I love you," he declares when they break apart. The socks are next to his knees on the violet carpet and he picks them up again, smiling to himself as he places them on top of Amy's bump. “Both of you.”

“Well, cheeseball, we both love you back. You're a lucky guy.”

“I am. I really, really am.”

(The fear refuses to disappear altogether, but it stays under control for the rest of the wait. By the time Amy’s contractions start five weeks later, Jake's all excitement and little anything else.)

november

His daughter is the smallest thing he has ever seen.

Person, he corrects himself. She's a person, a whole little individual with ten fingers and ten toes and a full head of dark hair, and she’s managed to utterly and completely steal his heart in the forty-three hours she’s spent out in the world.

Leah Rose Charlotte Santiago-Peralta is marginally smaller than the average newborn, thanks to her just over three weeks early arrival, but she’s perfectly healthy and strong. After two nights at the hospital, the new family is cleared to go home.

Jake has his first minor freakout post Leah’s birth when the doctor tells them. He’ll have to drive, which means there’s an atomic but existing risk they’ll crash. Once they go home, there will be no more friendly nurses to help, no more surprisingly excellent coffee machines in the communal kitchen, and no more red buttons next to the bed they can press if they panic. They’ll be on their own in their mission of keeping a helpless infant alive, and Jake’s not sure he’s ready.

He looks over at Amy to where she’s propped up in the hospital bed feeding their daughter and opens his mouth to communicate this, but he changes his mind once he sees them. With Amy’s gratified smile overpowering the bags under her eyes and with Leah’s content suckling noises, there’s no doubt whatsoever.

He’s ready. He’s always been ready for them.

Leah cries when they fasten her in the car seat. There’s a fleeting moment where he worries the drive will be a twenty-minute crying party, but she passes out the second the car starts moving and sleeps through her first car ride like it’s no big deal. She continues sleeping through her first ride up the building’s elevator, and snoozes through being carried over the doorstep into their apartment.

“Welcome home, Lee," he tells her as they enter, hospital bags in tow. “You too, Ames.”

“Thanks," Amy mumbles.“It feels nice.”

He nods, leaving their bags on the living room floor for later unpacking as he helps her unfasten Leah in the seat. “You feeling okay, babe?”

“I guess," she shrugs. “I’d kill for a proper shower, though.”

“So go take one.”

She hesitates, observing him closely as if she’s searching for something. “Are you sure? I can stay with you if you don’t want to be alone with her for too long, I know you think it’s scary - “

“Ames.” He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You can take a shower. You can take a long shower if you want to, because god knows you deserve it. Need it, even.”

“That’s hurtful.”

“Go take that shower," he repeats, kissing her forehead. “Lee and I will be okay.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, then.” She kisses first Leah’s, then his cheek, and squeezes his hand one last time before heading towards their bathroom. “Have a good father-daughter bonding time. Kick it off with a diaper change, will you?”

“This isn't my favorite part," Jake informs his daughter as she starts waking up on the changing table, grunting when he has to take off the cozy, white overall they brought her home in. “I’m not sure it’s anyone’s. I’ll do it for you, though.”

He promised himself after seeing Amy go through twenty-six hours of torturous pain that he'd do all the changes he could for the first weeks. So far he's sticking to it; it’s not the most enjoyable of experiences, but it's simple and straightforward enough for him to feel like he's mastering it with some proficiency.

“So," he narrates while he navigates his mission. “This is going pretty well. We're doing good, Lee.”

She eyes him with skepticism, letting out a few whimpers before they’re done, but he keeps his calm and draws a breath of relief when she doesn’t start crying.

“See? We did it.” He holds her little hands, waving them like she’s the one doing it. “We’re just going to get you a new pair of pajamas and we’ll be all set.”

It’s the first time he’s dressing her without Amy’s input. Seeing how he technically has the freedom to put their daughter in a Die Hard-onesie and varicolored leggings, Jake considers it a mature use of his power when he opts for white pajamas with a pink rose print and a regular pair of grey socks.

He figures they’re a regular pair, at least. He realizes otherwise when he unrolls them to find the familiar I ♥️ DAD-print on them. They bring a smile to his lips as he thinks back to when he bought them, back when no one knew their secret yet, and he was scared out of his mind he wouldn’t be able to do the exact thing he’s doing now.

He puts the socks on Leah’s feet, shaking his head at how the itty-bitty clothing items are still almost too large for her. He has to roll the socks up so they’ll stay on, but they work, and the result is possibly the most endearing thing he’s seen. He snaps a few shots with his phone - it’s lucky he upgraded its storage, because he’s already taken enough photos to fill a museum of baby pictures - and then kisses Leah’s forehead, lifting her so she’s held against his chest as he carries her out to the living room and sinks down on the couch.

Jake must have been on this couch nearly a thousand times. From pre-relationship Thanksgiving dinners to early dates to countless movie nights on this particular piece of furniture, a substantial part of all the hours Jake's ever spent at home with Amy has been focused to the off-white seats. He's had makeout sessions, sleepless nights and lengthy discussions on it, but it's the first time he hangs out with his daughter there.

He must say she seems pretty chill about everything new so far. She lays against his legs without complaint, and he watches her as she blinks and yawns, waving and kicking her limbs with intermittent, jerky movements.

“Cool to have this much space, huh? Must've been pretty cramped in your first living quarters," he comments on her stretches. “I can't believe we have you here already. I mean, I figured you'd be early because of those Santiago genes, but your mom convinced me not to get my hopes up.”

“I kind of knew, though," he adds, holding her tiny feet through the socks. “I had a feeling. This is when you say yeah, dad, you were totally right, you're the smartest.”

Leah makes little bubbling noises with her lips in response. Jake decides to interpret them as an agreement.

The shower stops running in the background. He figures this means Amy should be back soon, but for now he has some remaining alone time to enjoy with his daughter. He's in the exact situation he was scared for his life to even think about six months ago, the only one in charge if Leah starts wailing uncontrollably or stops breathing or some other nightmare scenario, but for some reason, he's not panicking.

He's calm. Somehow, he thinks she's the secret.

“I'm still a bit nervous, you know," he tells her while she keeps up her squirming. Every now and then she squints at him like she’s trying to make out the details of his face, looking adorably skeptical. “I know what it’s like to have a crappy parent, and I’m scared of becoming one. I probably will be for a long time, but… I’m starting to think it’s going to be okay.”

He has to take a break before he keeps talking, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

“I’m going to try my best, always. Every single day. I’ll probably fail a whole bunch, but I’m always going to try. For you.”

Leah accidentally punches herself in the face with one of her fists as he says the last words, making herself gasp in confusion and Jake laugh.

“I promise," he adds with a careful grip of her tiny hands, nudging at one fist with his pinkie until her fingers close around it. “I’m not going to leave you, ever.”

It’s a dicey promise to make for someone with his profession. Too many times in his career, he’s had to pack his things and leave everything behind for reasons far beyond his control, and he’s known for getting so sucked into a case he’ll forget to eat and sleep and go home for days on end. Neither of these factors are compatible with having and raising children, and while he can’t really control whether any mafia bosses will force him to go into hiding soon, Jake knows he’s picked up his last double shift for a long, long while. He has almost all of the next month off to learn how to be a family with his wife and daughter, and even after he returns to work, the shifts will be fewer and somewhat shorter.

Four years ago it would’ve been agony. Now, he couldn’t be more excited.

He’s going to watch his daughter grow up and become the coolest little person in the Universe, and he gets to do it all with the love of his life. It’s a nonpareil joy, and he wants to describe it all in words to Leah, but he’s sleep-deprived and overtired and ever-so-slightly worried it’d be the factor to finally bring him to tears, so he starts humming Hedwig’s Theme to the newborn instead.

“Oh, man.” He notices Amy’s presence first when he hears her sniffle and sees her shake her head as she sits down next to them. Her hair is blow-dried and she’s changed into grey pajama pants and a tank-top, completing the outfit with a blue hoodie identical to his own. He suspects both the pants and hoodie are originally his, but when it comes to stopping her from stealing his clothes, he lost the battle a long time ago.“I was so proud of myself for not having cried yet today, and then you go ruin it.”

“I mean," he grins, giving her an amused look. “Is making you cry really that much of an achievement right now?”

“Don’t try me," she warns him and dabs at her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie. “You wouldn’t last an hour with these hormones. Or any other part of it.”

“Fair judgment.”

“Yeah.” Leah’s begun to whimper again, puckering her lips at the sound of Amy’s voice. “You want to give her over? I think she's hungry.”

“Do you magically sense that or something?” He transfers his daughter over to his wife, gently as if she’d been made of crystal glass.

“My boobs feel like stone, does that count?”

“Ah.”

“Trust me, they're not the worst thing.” Jake grimaces, and Amy laughs at his reaction while she adjusts herself, a couple of pillows and Leah to a comfortable position. “Giving birth is a nightmare.”

“Sorry you had to," he says, scooching closer so he reaches to put his arm around her shoulders. “You were incredible, if it's any consolation.”

“Thank you.” She whispers the words without looking at him. Her gaze is locked on Leah, pure admiration lighting up her face while she watches the newborn eat. “I see you chose her socks.”

“She looks cute, right? I think they suit her.”

“She's wearing the mom-ones tomorrow," Amy states. “And she’s always cute, but yes. They suit her.”

As intense of an effort as it is to divert his attention from the newborn, Jake’s growling stomach eventually reminds him they haven’t eaten since lunch. Pizza seems as good a celebration as any after three days of hospital food, he decides, and manages to finish their order and end the call right when Leah finishes eating.

“I can take her," he offers, and Amy gently transfers the girl back, helping him hold her so that her chin rests on his shoulder.

“You look like such a dad.” Amy laughs. “It’s a good look on you.”

“I am a dad," he corrects her, and she smiles wide.

“You are. How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know," he confesses. “Happy and nervous. She’s the greatest thing in the world, clearly, and I have no idea if I’ll be good enough at taking care of her, but…” He takes a deep breath. “I love her, and I hope so.”

“I know you will be. I think Lee does, too.”

As if to either confirm or deny her mother’s suggestion, Leah chooses that very moment to let out a loud burp and spit up all down the back of his hoodie.

“Burp cloth, Ames, you forgot the burp cloth," he mutters as his wife wheezes with laughter.

He doesn’t bother changing his hoodie. It would take getting up and disturbing the milk-drunk baby who falls asleep on his chest minutes later, curled up like a koala bear with her mouth open, and he can’t make himself risk waking her up.

She’s a warm, comfortable weight against his ribs, in perfect height for him to kiss the top of her head if he looks down. He’s never seen anyone look quite so peaceful.

Amy leans her head on his spit-up free shoulder, snuggling into his side and holding one of their daughter’s fists in her hand, and Jake never knew his heart could grow to the size it’s doing.

He figures it’s for the best. If he’s going to spend the rest of his life loving the two people currently falling asleep on him with everything he has, his heart will have to perform some serious expansion.

(It does.)

#my writing #b99 fic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago fic #jake x amy #peraltiago #babyfic #b99

[confetti-bones]

Boss 1

Pairing: Yoongi X Reader X Jimin

Genre: Office au, Ceo Yoongi, Boss Jimin, there might be smut I don't know yet.

Warnings: Swearing

A/n: Hey everyone! I decided to make an office au thing of Yoongi and Jimin, I hope you all like it. If any of you want to be added to a taglist just let me know...

 You've been working for the Min company for years.

    You were a hard worker that's never taken a vacation or sick day. Not that you didn't want to, but it's more like you couldn't.

     You had bills and student loans to pay. You simply just didn't have the money to take vacation. You even had to do overtime almost everyday; and don't forget your second job.

    You sighed as you worked on another nonrealistic article of some celebrity couple.

   The Min company is a magazine company. The company basically sells crappy gossip magazines that likes to spread false rumors.

    It hadn't always been this way.

     Before the the company decided to start this magazine, The Min company was just a normal book publisher.

    They sold fantastic stories that you loved to read, and that's what made you decide that you wanted to write and work for this company.

    A little after you were hired the quality of the books went down. Ceo Min got greedy and decided to make the gossip magazine that you write for today; seeing that it made more money and was more popular at the time then the wonderful stories that your co workers made.

    Thus why your here now.

     As you worked on your article you heard a door slam shut. So you looked up to see your co worker Kim Seokjin barge out of Ceo Mins office, clearly frustrated. 'the Ceo must of yelled at him again' you think as you watched Seokjin stomp back to his desk.

      You felt yourself feel a tiny bit of sympathy for the man, but quickly discarded it with a small shake off your head.

     Seokjin was a suck up. He constantly tried to get on the Ceo's good side, following Ceo Min around making sure he had everything that he needed and wanted; and when he wasn't following the companies Ceo around he would be arrogant and brag. You've personally never had a conversation with him, but you've overheard him talking to coworkers, and you can confidently say that you don't want to talk to him.

    As you were lost in your thoughts, you mindlessly stared at Seokjin for a few minutes not realizing that he noticed your stare until he was in front of you with a smirk on his face.

       "I know I'm handsome, but that doesn't mean you should stare at me like that" Seokjin says. You sit quietly unsure of what to say.

     "Do you not have manners? It's rude to not respond when someone is talking to you," Seokjin says annoyed.

   "Ah sorry…. I just wasn't expecting you to talk to me" you mumble.

  "Oh? Well I'm glad you know better, I usually wouldn't speak to someone so-" Seokjin then takes a second to look at your outfit for a few seconds,

      "Poor looking. You look like trash. The only reason I'm here us to tell you to keep your eyes on your work. I don't need someone so gross staring at me. I'm surprised that you even got hired. Ceo Min has high expectations you know, and that's why he hired me." Seokjin says arrogantly. You felt a little bad about his words but try not to think about it to much mumbling a quick apology and turning to face your work.   

   Seokjin scoffs and says,

  "Ugh I should report you to human services, your so rude and annoying" before walking off back to his desk.

    As soon as Seokjin was gone you give a quick sigh of relief before continuing to work wishing that you could go home.

     After a while of working you heard a door open to see the companies very own Ceo walk out. He had a coffee mug in his hand and a tired expression as he started to walk towards the break room.

   As he headed towards the break room Seokjin shot up from his desk and walked over to the Ceo with what seemed to be a fake smile.

   "Hello Ceo Min, do you want me to get some coffee for you?" Seokjin asks holding his hand out ready to take the coffee mug from the Ceo.

      Ceo Min sighs and rolls his eyes taking a quick glance around the room before looking at Seokjin again.

    "No I want you to work. I wanted your article about that one celebrity scandal done two days ago. You have yet to finish it because you've been so busy kissing my ass." Ceo Min says bluntly. Seokjin chuckle's at this and Ceo Min looks at him blankly for a few minutes before saying,

     "Get to work or I'll fire you Seokjin."  walking off. Seokjin shakes his head and sighs mumbling something about never getting fired before sitting in his seat again.

    Some people giggle at the interaction while others start to work again.

   While you worked you heard yelling from the break room. 'Ceo Min must be having a fit again' you sigh.

   Ceo Min is a very successful man. He started the company you worked at, and managed to make millions from it.

     Ceo Min was just as arrogant as Kim Seokjin if not more, for obvious reasons. He seemed to only care about making money.

      If an article an employee wrote wasn't good enough, he'd have the employee come to his office, and he'd scream at them, constantly making them redo their work till he considered it perfect.

     You'd like to say that you haven't had to go through that same treatment but you did; and it was terrifying. You went a full week of the Ceos yelling before you managed to make an article that he deemed perfect.

      Hours went by with you typing away and looking at your computer screen, until you felt a tap on your shoulder. You sigh and look up to see one of the floor supervisors, Hoseok.

      Hoseok, was arrogant and rude like the other two men mentioned, but still just a slightly bit nicer.

   Out of all the higher-ups in the office he was the most bearable.

      "Ms.(last name) you've worked overtime almost everyday this week." Hoseok says.

    "Yeah I know. Is there something wrong with that Mr.Jung?" You ask.

     "Yeah we can't have you do overtime like this everyday, there are rules about overworking that we have to follow. So you have to leave now, your official office hours ended ten minutes ago." You sigh and nod your head. Hoseok flashes you a quick what seemed to be fake smile before walking off leaving you to pack up.

   Once you gathered all your stuff you walked to the elevator and got on.

      After a few seconds before the doors close two people get on. The companies Ceo and Kim Namjoon Ceo Mins second hand man. Also the other floor supervisor.

   Kim Namjoon was known as the brains for the company. He was very intelligent with an IQ of one forty eight.

     Namjoon was the guy who made the suggestion to start a magazine company, and he often helped come up with ideas for different sections and articles that could be written.

    When the two men got on the elevator you nodded your head politely before staring at the floor not wanting to make eye contact with either of them.

    There was an awkward silence in the elevator for a few moments before Namjoon decided to speak,

     "Ms.(last name) how has your article been going so far? Is it up to standards?" You stiffened at hearing Namjoon and looked up to see him staring at you.

     "It's going well Mr. Kim" you mumble. Ceo Min looks over to you quizzically.

    "Just well Ms.(last name)? I thought we went over how your article should be perfect a few weeks ago" Ceo Min said bluntly. You took in a breath feeling even more tense then ever.

     "I- umm, It's actually fantastic, I have a few things here and there that I need to fix but my article is actually great. I was just saying that I felt like I was doing a great job at writing it. " You stammered. Ceo Min nodded his head pleased with your answer before pulling out his phone.

    Eventually the elevator hit the bottom floor and the doors open.

     "Mr.Kim make sure Ms.(last name)'s article gets sent to me once she considers it perfect. We all know that her definition of the word is clearly much different from mine" Ceo Min says turning to look at your appearance.

     "Have a goodnight Mr.Kim, Ms.(last name)" the Ceo says before walking out the elevator.

    You turn and give Namjoon a quick nod before scurrying out of the elevator with a sigh, feeling more relaxed now that your out of that situation.

…………………………

  "I'm telling you, Jimin everybody in that office is a dick" you huff while cleaning the bar counter. Jimin laughs at this before saying,

    "Well what are you gonna do? Their all office pricks who only want money."

    "I want money too but I'm not an ass about it." You say walking over to a customer and refilling his drink.

    "Sorry to tell you this sweetheart but that's just how some people are",

   "Hey (y/n) can I get a beer for table six?" Jungkook says walking up to the counter.

   You nod your head and grab a beer  handing it to Jungkook.

    "So what are you complaining about now? Do you have to write another one of those fake scandal articles?" Jungkook asks scrunching up his face.

     "No, well yes but that's not what im complaining about. Just the usual bosses." Jungkook nods his head.

    "Am I a boss you complain about (y/n)?" Jimin asks playfully. You shake your head,

   "No if anything you're probably my favorite boss" you sigh. Jimin makes a noise of delight and gives you a cute smile,

     "Awwwww, your my favorite too (y/n). Come here so I can give you a hug." Jimin says holding his arms open. You giggle and shake your head, and Jungkook looks over at Jimin offended,

"Hey what about me!" Jungkook says. Just as Jimin's about to respond, you hear someone yell,

    "Hey where's my beer?!" Jungkook sighs and shakes his head.

   "My customer is already getting impatient I better go" you nod your head and turn back to Jimin.

   "I should probably go too (y/n) I have some paperwork, to fill out and I can't distract you from anymore customers." Jimin smiles. You nod your head and smile back before Jimin walks away to the back room of the bar leaving you alone.

   This is your second job. You work as a bartender for the bar Serendipity. Overall the job was really nice. You got lots of tips and enjoyed your fellow coworkers. Not to mention at this job your boss is actually nice and sweet.

  Your bosses name is Park Jimin. He's a handsome carefree man. Jimin was given the bar by his uncle when he was in highschool. His uncle wanted to move away by wasn't willing to let go of his business so he decided to give it to Jimin.

    As soon as Jimin graduated he happily took over the business hiring you and a few other people as well.

    One of those people being Jung Jungkook. Jungkook is still a high school kid himself, but he needed some extra cash to help pay for a car he's been wanting so he decided to take up a job as a waiter for the bar.

    At first he was really awkward and shy not really speaking to you. Every Time he saw you he'd walk away as fast as he could to try and avoid you, making you feel awful.

    Jimin later revealed to you that Jungkook was slightly scared of girls, and made the poor boy start talking to you, putting the two of you on the same shift so he's have to go to you for orders.

    Later as time went on he slowly grew more comfortable with you and your happy to say that your friends with him now.

    Another employee that works there goes by the name Kim Taehyung.

   He's a college student majoring in art. Taehyung is in charge of cooking in the back so when he's not busy he usually goes to the bar and talks to you occasionally drinking a beer or two.

      Taehyung and you get along fairly well, except for when he pranks you.

   The man doesn't prank you that often anymore, after an incident that happened a few months ago that resulted in him almost being fired, but he occasionally does small pranks like putting too much salt in your food or drink.

      "(Y/n) order ready for table four" Taehyung says placing a plate with a hamburger and fries down.

    "Alright I'll take it down myself." You say grabbing the plate from the counter and walking over to the said table.

    "Here's your order miss" you say setting the food down. The woman who orders says a quick thanks and gives you a smile before you walk back to behind the bar.

     "(Y/n) I need your womanly advice on something" Taehyung says taking a seat on front of you.

     "Don't you have orders to be making?" You sigh.

   "Nope that was my last one." Taehyung says with a grin.

   "Alright hit me"

 "Do you think id look good in the colors blue or pink?" Taehyung asks. You sigh again and look at Taehyung for a few seconds before responding,

    "You'd look good in both, was that your question?"

   "Yay! Yeah it was!" Taehyung says while making jazz hands and giving you his famous boxy grin. You shake your head and smile back at Taehyung.

   As you were about to speak again you suddenly hear a voice,

     "(Y/n)?" You instantly feel yourself stiffen from the familiar voice and turn to look at the person who spoke.

     "Namjoon…."

#yoongi au #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #suga #jimin #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin x reader #jimin au #ceo yoongi #boss jimin #bts office au

[bulletproofice]

Tyler Joseph - I’ll Try to Save You

Y/N - Your Name Y/EC - Your Eye Colour Y/SC - Your Skin Colour Reader: Female Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and mentions of self harm Word Count: 2846

3rd Person POV

Y/N and Tyler had known each other throughout high school and middle school. She had been there at his first ever basketball game. She had encouraged his music career and helped him practice for his talent show. She had introduced him to Josh and proposed the idea that he could join Tyler's band when the other two members had left. She had seen him through his darkest days. She had taken him on fun days out that she couldn't really afford just to see him smile. She would come to his window at night to bring him food when she knew that he hadn't been eating. She had been there at the sink when... you know. She had saved him in more ways than he could count.

Every time the other broke down crying, they would be there in an instant.

To Tyler's audience, he was best friends with Josh. But to everyone behind the scenes, Y/N and Tyler were closer.

Recently the two had drifted apart, Tyler and Josh were on tour whereas Y/N was still working in Columbus. A month had gone by and the texts that had been sent between the two could be counted on one hand. The singer yearned for contact with the girl he'd grown so close to, he didn't know why he'd let distance grow between them. He wasn't entirely dependent on her, but she was his rock. With every passing day he could feel his sanity eroding. The long hours in the tour bus drained his energy and trapped him inside his own dark thoughts with the silence. Of course, Josh was there for him. And he loved Josh. Just not as much as he loved Y/N. Not even close.

That's why it broke him so much when her number appeared on his phone screen as she tried to call him, it must've been about 3am back in Columbus so he didn't hesitate to pick up the phone. His heart instantly lurched as he listened to Y/N's frantic breathing and stifled crying.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Did something happen?" Tyler panicked immediately, praying that she wasn't hurt and that nothing had happened to her.

"I did something stupid... I couldn't help myself... I just feel so... so lost and worthless. I can't live like this Tyler!" The girl choked out.

Every ounce of colour drained from his face. Where Y/N had been there for all of Tyler's achievements and dark days, he had shared hers too; He had offered his hand out to her when he found her crying in the corridor during a lesson. He had held her as she cried for hours after being dumped by her first boyfriend. He had held her hair as she threw up all of the alcohol that she had consumed one night. He had taken all the razor blades out of her house and wrapped her arms in bandages after finding her surrounded by blood in her bathroom. He had taken her to her first ever therapy session. He had played her music to help her get to sleep. He had taken her out of her house on late night trips to sing along to the radio in his car as they sped through the city. He had gone camping with her family so that she wouldn't be stuck there alone. He had always cracked a joke wherever he could because he thought her smile was too beautiful to not exist. He had thought that he'd helped her get better.

"What did you do Y/N? Are you safe?" Tyler asked quietly, not wanting to provoke a reaction.

"There's blood everywhere... I stopped it for now... it doesn't hurt though Tyler... I thought it would hurt. Why can't I feel it Tyler? My world's crashing down around me, nothing's happening anymore. I can't do it. I want it to stop. It's been years Tyler. Nothing ever goes away." The last few sentences were whispered bitterly through shaky breaths, but just loud enough that he could hear it.

His eyes brimmed with tears as he struggled to find words to comfort her.

"We'll be in Ohio in a week, okay? A week. You only have to hold on for that much longer. Please Y/N. Stay with me here. I- We need you." His voice broke as he talked to her through the phone, cradling it to his ear as if Y/N could somehow feel it.

"What's the point. It's all meaningless. I'm meaningless Tyler, I'm sorry for calling you. I'm such a burden-"

"Never say that again. Not to me. Not to anyone. You're not a burden at all. You're so unbelievably amazing Y/N. Please just trust me."

Silence.

Tyler checked to make sure that he was still on the call and that she hadn't hung up. His heart stopped as the silence continued. It was violent. It was tearing into his heart and ripping each artery and vein one by one. His soul was being tormented. He just wanted to hold her. To tell her that she'd be okay. That she's loved. That she's more than what she thinks she is.

He heard a sigh through the phone.

"A week? You're coming in a week?" Her feeble voice was barely audible.

Attempting a strong voice to comfort her, he nodded, "A week. I promise."

"I'll see you soon."

She ended the call and he immediately sank to the floor and cried into his hands. He would see her soon. He could only hope that she'd keep her word and that he could see her at his Columbus concert. His mind was plagued with images of the past, vivid crimson flashbacks of high school. It only made him cry harder. But reminding himself that if she had to pick herself up, he knew that he could stay strong for the two of them. If he saw her when he was back in Ohio, he wouldn't hesitate to tell her just how much he loved her. He was going to quit avoiding the relationship topic and ask for her to stay with him. It made him sick knowing that he had to wake up everyday without her when he was on tour. He wanted her here in the crappy little beds that they had set up, he wanted to see her concentrated face smile during soundcheck. He just wanted her.

These thoughts kept him up for hours, running through his mind with a painful melody. It wasn't until his own clock hit 3am that he pulled out his notebook and sighed. He was restless and overwhelmed by emotion - the perfect conditions for a song. The graphite of his pencil touched the rough pad of paper; he knew what to write instantly.

___

The week went by quickly. Tyler did his shows with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which wasn't a lot. Every time he was away from his phone he worried about Y/N. He was starting to trust that she wouldn't do anything whilst he was gone but he just wanted to make sure. He had spent every day since her phone call texting her and making sure she was okay. In almost no time at all he was waiting to go to the airport with Josh, wanting to get on the plane and back into Ohio. He had planned a simple day out for Y/N and himself to cheer her up before he had to perform the final concert of the tour.

He had prepared a special something as the finale for this concert, and he couldn't wait for her, along with the rest of the crowd to hear what he was going to sing. He had written a song entirely for her - then he would confess his feelings and maybe she would return them. Then he could comfort her as something more than a friend, if that's what she wanted. Because he was done hiding his feelings from her anymore.

Unfortunately, everything that could have gone wrong that day went wrong. Their car broke down on the way to the airport, meaning that they had to delay their flight, meaning that he and Josh wouldn't get back to Columbus until just before the concert. Tyler was heartbroken to say the least. He texted Y/N about the situation and sent his brother, Zack, to spend time with her instead. Zack had been checking in on her whilst he was gone, and had told him that she was doing a lot better than she had been before. Even though he couldn't be with her now, it made him happy to know that at least someone she trusted would be there to take care of her.

___

An hour before the concert started, he was pacing around the green room as josh tapped rhythmically on the arm of the couch with his drumsticks.

"Just relax man, she'll love the song okay. And she'll love you too. She already does. This will be the best finale ever, just you wait for it." Josh reassured him.

Tyler smiled gratefully but couldn't bring himself to say actual words, leaving him to nod to himself encouragingly. The adrenaline pumping through his body was loud enough to drown out most of his negative thoughts, it wasn't long until he had to go onstage.

___

Three songs in, and Tyler finally spotted Y/N in the crowd. Her Y/EC eyes had lost their vibrancy and the ghost of a smile haunted her face. She was stood next to his brother, Zack, and was still as beautiful as he remembered. The way the lights in the room danced over her Y/SC practically took his breath away. How she still managed to look so flawless he did not know. He continued to sing and play for the entire set, his confidence slowly growing for the finale song.

"Alright guys, I've written a new song to finish the set with. Is that alright for you?"

The room erupted with cheers and shouts and screams.

He took a deep breath and sat down at his piano, waiting for the synth melody to start playing.

"You say things with your mouth, flies and cobwebs some out."

He looked into the crowd and met his eyes with Y/N's. They were wide and interested. Her mouth curved upwards slightly and nodded encouragingly.

"I hear a second voice behind your tongue somehow." He smiled and nodded back at her before returning his attention to the piano keys below him. Then up to Josh, who grinned at him and continued drumming.

"Luckily I can read your mind flies and cobwebs unwind, they will not take you down, they will not cast you out. Out."

The song was going well so far - if he hadn't messed up by now, he was confident he wouldn't for the rest of the song, or he hoped not anyway. He only hoped that Y/N knew it was for her. She had to, right?

"Dear friend he we are again pretending to understand how you think your world is ending, sending signals and red flags in waves, it's hard to tell the difference between blood and water these days, I'll pray that one day you see the only difference between life and dying is one is trying, that's all we're called to do so try to love me and I'll try to save you."

The crowd was loving it, that was for sure. But with all their jumping and cheering, he had completely lost sight Y/N, hopefully this wouldn't matter and that she still knew that he was singing to her. He knew she hadn't left, he could feel her in the room.

"Won't you stay alive? I'll take you on a ride I will make you believe you are lovely Won't you stay alive? I'll take you on a ride I will make you believe you are lovely!"

He stood up from the piano and started jumping, encouraging his audience to do the same. He was grinning ear to ear. He continued to search for Y/N during what was left of the short instrumental piece, but had no luck in finding her.

"Your redemption won't grow stale..."

The rest of the song went beautifully. Some of the crowd had grasped the chorus and sang along with him, but by the time the last few lines had come out of his mouth he couldn't wait to get off of the stage and straight towards his friend.

"You say things with your mouth, Cobwebs and flies come out."

The rooms was filled screams and claps, he smiled brightly at the audience before speaking into his microphone for the last time.

"Thank you for coming everyone, I hope you had a great time! Goodnight."

Josh jogged over to the front of the stage and they bowed together as the lights dimmed. As soon as they were off he darted off to the side of the stage, only to crash in to the person he'd been searching for the entire night.

"Y/N! I'm so sorry about tha- are you alright?" His arms grabbed on to the girl's to make sure she didn't fall from the impact, but his attention was immediately drawn to the tears that poured down her face.

"The song... Tyler, it was beautiful!" She cried softly. His face lit up as he pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her protectively. He burrowed his face into the crook of her neck as she leant into his chest. This felt... right. So unbelievably right. The way they both melted into each other so automatically. He loved it.

"It was for you, you know?" He mumbled into her ear. Time stood still as he waited for her reply, his heavy breathing from the performance had stopped completely.

"Really? M-me?" She breathed, pulling away from him slightly so that she could stare into his eyes. God, her eyes. Tyler loved those eyes.

"Yeah... I uh... after you called me, I just couldn't stop thinking about how much you... how much you mean to me. And I got writing and I wrote it so fast because that's just how I felt, you know? And uh... I said you... you should try to love me? Because..." he took an exasperated breath at his own incompetency to form sentences, but looking down at the girl in his arms showed that she was hanging on to every word. "Because lord knows that I love you- and not the platonic type of love... like, I love love you Y/N. I want to be there for you as so much more than a friend when you're sad, and even when you're not sad. I hate it when you're away from me and when I can't hear your voice, your laugh. Everything."

He looked down at her again, only to see that she was crying again. His heart dropped at the sight and he stepped back in case he had said the wrong thing.

"Y/N-"

But before he could say anymore he felt the girl launch herself at him, wrapping her arms around him tighter than she had ever done before.

"Of course I love you, Ty!" She mumbled against him.

Those six words kickstarted a raging fire inside of his chest. Those six glorious words. His smile grew impossibly wide as he cupped her face with his hand, rubbing his thumb over her cheek to get rid of her tears. Her nose and cheeks were coated with red now, making her more adorable than she previously had been. Tyler couldn't hold back anymore. He leant in slowly until his nose was touching hers and both of them could feel the other's breath dancing over their faces. Y/N was completely stationary, waiting patiently for Tyler to do what she had been waiting for him to do for years. And slowly but surely, his chapped lips met hers, enrapturing her instantly. One hand moved to the back of her neck whilst the other stayed cupping her cheek. Their lips moved in sync slowly, savouring the moment.

It was only once Tyler had run out of air that he pulled away, gently tucking some hair behind Y/N's ear. She giggled and buried her face in his chest. She felt more at peace than she had done in a while. She finally felt like she was home.

"Y/N?"

She looked up into his beautiful brown eyes, nodding her head.

"Come with us on tour next time? Please? I don't like being away from you." Tyler mumbled into her hair, only now realising how needy the question made him sound. But as he looked down at her, he saw her face decorated with a breathtaking smile. He'd forgotten how lovely that smile was.

"You don't even need to ask."

-----

So atm I’m just uploading my least cringe imagines from Wattpad to Tumblr

#imagine #tyler joseph #fanfic #imagines #twenty one pilots #josh dun #music #writing #wattpad #fluff #sad #fandom #multifandom

[iamnotbrianmay]

The A Experience

okay lads, chapter 2 is here! I can’t believe the feedback I have gotten for this fic and I hope this chapter doesn’t disappoint! I had so much fun writing it! 

Description:  

Brian May, 21

13 kilometres away

I am looking for someone to come with me to a Christmas dinner and pretend that we have been dating for two months.

Brian's fingers ghosted over the screen of the phone and he wondered, not for the first time, if he should just come clean to Freddie and John. They would tease Brian endlessly, sure, but he also trusted that his friends knew that there was a line that they could not cross. On the other hand, he could also feel the sting of John's words like a slap.

They were right though, he hadn't had had a boyfriend in the last few years; and Tim Staffell, his ever-growing, ever-present crush, didn't make things better. Brian knew he was not ugly, he knew for a fact that if his mind and heart hadn't been with Tim for the past two years or so he could have easily been in a relationship. But love is stupid and even though he only sees the younger man three times a month at most he is still hopelessly in love.

Brian groans, pressing the edge of his phone to his forehead and wishing he had just said yes to Freddie's idea of calling Tim over.

But no, Brian had made that bed and he had to lie in it, he had to somehow get a fake boyfriend by the end of the week. A guy that was nice enough for him to be actually dating and cool enough to act like a boyfriend in a house full of people who made Freddie Mercury look only slightly weird. Oh yes, he was royal screwed.

He looked at his phone once again, staring at the picture of himself playing Red Special at a bar. His hair looked like a mess, his smile was so wide that you could see his weird teeth and his eyes were focused on Freddie, who was singing at the top of his lungs a song by The Rolling Stones that they had been obsessed about at the moment of the gig. Brian smiled at the memory knowing that was the night that a curly haired boy would walk up to them and say, 'hey, you are a cool duo, wouldn't you like a bass player?'. Yes, that was definitely a good photo.

But the rest of the profile? A mess.

He barely had any other pictures of himself that he actually liked so he settled for the next best thing, candid pictures that Freddie often takes of him and John around the apartment and while practicing. Then a bad— no, terrible—picture of the three of them in a carnival ride in which they were all making such stupid faces that it never failed to make Brian smile. Lastly was his description. It was short, sweet, and straight to the point.

Brian May, 21

I am looking for someone to come with me to a Christmas dinner and pretend that we have been dating for two months.

He looked through his profile once again, trying to convince himself that what he was doing was not sad, and that he would at least get one match. Even if it was a creepy old lady from East Wisconsin. In the end he didn't even let himself think about what he was doing much, he just clicked 'Post' and quickly closed the app, trying to focus on other things on his phone.

It went well, for about five minutes, then Brian, ever the obsessive, started checking the app every couple of minutes. He would have a system, if he liked a post on any social media he would go back and refresh his feed, waiting for an answer on his pathetic little profile. He fell asleep like that, waiting for something that would most likely never come, because who on earth would actually swipe right to that?

Hey, it’s me, a twenty-one-year-old dude who can’t get a date.

Yeah, pathetic.

In the morning when he woke up the profile was still empty of requests. He restarted his phone in hopes of it being the apartment’s terrible internet or a glitch, but when he refreshed his feed again the notifications were still empty. Brian sighed and got up, ready to face his flatmates and tell them about the latest gag.

He put on the largest hoodie he could find, and stuffed his cellphone in its pocket. Then walked ruefully out of the room, ready to face to music. The house was uncharacteristically quiet for a Monday morning, and Brian frowned. He walked around, looking for the other two boys and found no one, and when he opened the door to their room he found it pristine.

He took out his phone, and checked their group chat.

f. mercury: had to get to class early

f. mercury: deacy drove me

f. mercury: there is fresh orange juice in the fridge

Okay, so he had the house to himself. No Freddie, no John, no need to embarrass himself any further until they came back. He felt the tension leave his shoulders, and he quickly texted back.

b. may: At what time are you coming back?

He set down the phone on the counter and started to prepare breakfast. He once again tuned into the rock station as soft hummed along when Black Math started to play. The kitchen filled with sounds of cooking, Brian singing and the old, crappy, radio playing in the background. He was in such a good mood that for a second he even forgot about his dilemma, until his phone dinged and he was brought back into the present.

He walked over, waiting to see how long he had between now and his imminent death, but instead of the usual notifications he usually has there was a banner that read in bold black letters.

Roger Taylor is your first match, say hi!

He stared at the phone wide eyed for a few seconds, trying to see if what he was seeing was actually true, and was only snapped out of his haze when the screen turned black once again. He rushed forward, leaving all thoughts of breakfast behind, and grabbed the phone.

He was so nervous his hands were trembling and had to insert the passcode four times before he got it right, but once he was able to get in he couldn’t believe his eyes. Not only was this Roger Taylor not a creepy old lady, but he was also an actually pretty gorgeous guy. Blond hair, baby blue eyes, and soft features that made him look breathtaking in every single one of his pictures.

Then, as in a miracle sent from heaven, the beautiful angel sent him a text.

Roger Taylor: hey brian

Roger Taylor: i would love to be your pretend boyfriend if i’m not too late

Brian stared at the messages in disbelief, and then panicked once another bubble popped up with the text ‘typing…’ written on it.

Roger Taylor: actually i would love to be your pretend boyfriend even if you have already made the agreement with someone else

Roger Taylor: ditch them and take me instead?

Brian freaked out, he felt like his hands were going to fall off out of excitement and nervousness, but he texted back a well crafted, deeply thought out, reply.

Brian May: Yes, please be my pretend boyfriend

To which he eloquently added,

Brian May: You are very cute

He stared at the two messages wondering if he could erase them, or even better, turn back time. After a minute of staring at the conversation, the phone screen turned black and Brian was forced to go back to do his breakfast, only this time he was paying more attention to the phone than the task ahead.

A few minutes later Brian failed to ignore his phone once again.

He opened the damned thing and looked through Roger’s profile. There were a hundred thousand pictures of him in every possible angle, doing everything from sleeping to playing the drums. He scrolled back to the top and looked at his information.

Roger Taylor, 19

13 kilometres away

Drummer, Singer, Biology Student.

Then another texted dinged and Brian was quickly reminded of his very awkward — no, very weird— introduction to Roger.

Roger Taylor: no u

Roger Taylor: lets set up a meeting spot?

Roger Taylor: so we can go over our story before your party

Brian smiled and failed to notice the scent of burning eggs that came from the frying pan in the stove.

Brian May: Let's do that.

Brian May: When are you free?

the tag list is currently v small but I love that people actually want to read my fic! I’m so happy, you guys have no idea! So the tag is: @warping-reality @seven-seas-of-why

if you would like to be added to the tag list send me an ask! also i live your feedback so any comment is highly appreciated! 

#maylor #roger taylor #Brian May #freddie mercury #john deacon #fanfic #slash #fake dating #my writing #the a experience fic