#I’m sorry but I’m so fucking bored like it’s CLEARLY pr and that’s FINE

[thisultraviolet]

.

#don’t read this if you love mr jock guy I just need to rant: #I’m sorry but I’m so fucking bored like it’s CLEARLY pr and that’s FINE #and that doesn’t mean she couldn’t also actually like him #but oh my goddddddddd I’m so fucking tired of hearing about it and it’s only been a few weeks I can’t do this for months #if she genuinely ends up head over heels in love with this man I will acknowledge that I’m being a dick and eat my words #but this straight white american cliché ass thing has me bored to tears like at least Tom slayed y’know #anyway 1989 vault tracks I’m counting on you bby #my post

[wizkiddx]

hiiiii i love your stuff - could u do one where the readers ill but they have stuff to do and tom has to look after her. maybe if they were just friends before too but both pining? thankuuuuuuuuu

should I be writing this instead of revising? clearly fucking not. Did I make this little blurb req ridiculously long purely to procrastinate? Of fucking course.

but also this was v cute! I assumed u meant famous!reader, sorry if that's not what u were after at all anon x

summary: Tom Holland turns into the readers knight in shining armour when they get ill during promo

warnings: fainting / feeling ill

///////////////////

It couldn’t be today. Of all days, why today? You’d been at home for two weeks doing absolutely nothing, before this trip. And yet it’s when your itinerary is packed to the brim, people moving heaven and earth just speak to you. Two weeks of unrelenting press for Marvels next big ensemble movie. 

Your manager was speaking to you, reeling off a run down of todays activities but instead of listening you nodded along blankly - head rather cloudy with this heavy mist that was not shaking off, no matter how hard you tried. 

“You got that Y/n/n?” Lucy pointedly spoke, eyes almost physically knocking you backwards as if her eyeliner was battery rams. Fumbling with your thoughts, your answer wasn’t particularly cohesive earning you just a disappointed head shake. 

“I um… yeh I think. Who-who did you say I was paired up with?” 

“Y/n please for the love of god. Tom, like I said the past fifty times.” And to be fair to Lucy she wasn’t wrong. It was the first major major promo tour for the both of you and after just two days so far - you were both exhausted. She was more than allowed to be a bit short tempered. 

“But we-we hardly know each other? The chemistry won’t be there and-“

“As I said, I tried to re-jig it but Kevin is of the mind that acting is your job.” Her tone was sharp but as she glared across the opposing seats, in the little mini van Marvel had hired for you as transportation, her eyes softened. Lucy had been so wrapped up in her own stress she may have overlooked quite how gingerly you were sitting. By the time she had arrived at the hotel, your stylist had already managed to half save your ghoulish looking face, with sunken under eyes and tired skin, so it wasn’t so blatantly obvious how crap you were feeling.  “Is everything okay with you?” 

It felt pretty puny to say that the jet lag from flying to Tokyo had been weighing you down further than you wanted, or that the local cuisine top chefs had kindly prepared for you last night wasn’t siting well in your stomach. To be honest, even you thought it was just your body being a bit overdramatic. So in response, you put on your best happy-go-lucky face feigning a smile.

“No no I’m fine, just want to give the best interviews I can and you know…. I’m awkward as hell as it is, then pair me with the most talented actor that I share about two minutes of screen time with…it’ll be interesting.” 

The way Lucy reacted with a weird slow nod, eyebrows furrowed, meant it was quite apparent you had perhaps overplayed that one. Had you not been so over the day before it even began, you would’ve tried again to give a more believable act. But as you were, you turned your attention back out to the bustling streets of Tokyo and the high rise buildings bordering each pavement. 

You didnt have a problem with Tom, far from it in fact. Tom was hilarious and the times you had met him, you’d both built up this weird and sarcastic competitiveness with each other. It was a game of who could get the last laugh, each of you pushing each other with the Mickey taking just a little further. Of course, not in a malicious way, just the way you’d both lived pretty similar but parallel careers - when everyone drew comparisons between the both of you, it was nice to make it a joke. 

Like Tom you’d also started out on stage, had a ‘big break’ movie as a kid and then spent your teenage years on and off film sets - till marvel happened. Then everything blew up to epic proportions, changing your life forever. Actually, it was so similar to Tom’s story, plus the fact you were also from the south west of the UK. It was bizarre your paths hadn’t crossed more - He probably could’ve been a useful ally in the the whole ‘becoming famous’ thing. 

And yet, you could probably count on two hands the amount of conversations you’d had with him. 

Now that, that was the issue. Right from the beginning you learn what the press want and when you are publicising a movie you cater into it too. They’d all be asking for the insider scoop on set; what pranks you’d pulled on each other; what was the most annoying thing about each other. Which is hard if you’d only had 5 or 6 days actually on set together. 

By the time the cab had wormed its way through the Tokyo traffic and you arrived at the PR hotel, it was already 9:30 - making you 15 minutes late (blame it on the traffic). Instantly then you were ushered straight to the interview room for the evening, no chance of green room chat or grabbing a drink before. The place was stuffy, everything was draped with black curtains except the poster board that Tom was already sitting infront of. 

He’d scrubbed up well, no doubt about it. He was wearing statement-ish burgundy suit trousers, teamed with a black knitted but collared shirt thing - that was clearly tailor made for the man. As soon as he noticed you scurry into the room, his face broke out into a warm smile, jumping up to greet you in a friendly hug. It was brief, and as you pulled back you accidentally bumped your head on one of the overhanging lights. No doubt someone had spent a ridiculous amount of time configuring them so they were positioned perfectly, which you had just ruined with your big head. 

“Oh shit!” Tom just laughed in response, shaking his head slightly as he lead you the two steps across to your pre-positioned seats. 

“Making an entrance as always I see!”

“Yeh, you know me, a bit of chaos just to keep everyone on their toes.”

“Oh is that why you’re ‘fashionably late’” With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, you just rolled your eyes, fidgeting on the chair to find a position that didnt aggravate  your stomach so much.

“I’m ready now though! What did I miss? Just having to pretend to be your friend for 15 minutes?” You stressed the words as though the thought of conversation with Tom was the absolute worst thing in the world - which you definetly didnt think. Scowling like you’d insulted his dog Tessa, it was almost visible how the cogs were turning in his head looking for a comeback. Unfortunately for him though, he was quickly shut up but the organiser bringing the first interviewer in . 

For what would, no doubt, be a long day. 

////

Everything had started off so well, the banter was flowing between you and Tom, no major spoilers revealed that meant Marvel would have to make the journalist disappear. It was once you hit an hour of back-to-back interviews that everything started to crack bit. Because yes, it had only been an hour but that was enough to exhaust you on this particular day. When Tom joked around you got slower and slower, similarly the  energy was zapped from your own answers. It’s not very compelling when someone says ‘you have to watch this movie’ in a monotonous voice with sullen eyes. 

As the interviewers were swapping in and out, Tom actually lightly nudged your shoulder.

“Everything alright? We’re trying to sell tickets and you’ve got a face like thunder.”

“Oh no-no sorry I just, I-um.”

“You want some water?” Now looking at your with more concerned eyes, as if he was just nervous he’d actually offended you for calling you a boring bastard. And you would’ve picked up on it and alleviated his concerns, if it weren’t for the fact your eyes were glued on the water bottle he was holding out to you. You were thirsty. You knew that, that wasn’t the conundrum. What you weren’t so sure about was whether your stomach would accept it, or more violently reject it. In a very non ‘we’re-trying-to-sell-a-movie’ style. 

But the lightheaded fogginess in your brain won out, as you nodded jerkily, taking the bottle and taking a little swig - too cautious to take anymore. 

Now concerned with how Tom thought you were being a Debby-downer too, you managed to perk yourself up for the next four interviews. They were easy, asking questions without any activity and though you did rely on Tom beefing out and adding to your answers, it was okay. Then the next interviewer came in, who you recognised as being from the BBC, Ali Plumb, that had interviewed you a number of times. From the way Tom jumped up to give him afirendly bro-hug, you guessed he also was familiar with him. As soon as he took a seat the cameras were already flashing with the red light, demonstrating his 7 minutes had already started. 

“Guys! It’s been a while.” 

“How are you Ali?” You started it off with the pleasantries, Tom echoing, before the speccy dirty-blonde asked his first question. 

“So the last time I spoke to you guys the universe was in chaos, Peter Parkers on the run and Aurora Blake was trying to strip her own powers, so I guess my first question is how are you both doing? We can use this as a therapy session if you guys need.” His very typical nerdy joke made Tom laugh, nodding as he leaned forward and repositioned a bit. 

You didn’t share the same humour though, more focused on this invisible blanket of stuffiness that seemed to have been thrown on top of you. It made you feel groggy, incredibly hot and so unbelievable nauseous. The lights weren’t helping either, it felt like you were pouring with sweat from your forehead. You thought Tom was answering Ali, even if you couldn’t really hear  - everything had merged into a deafening roar. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, unconsciously making you fumble yourself to standing, desperate to get somewhere with fresh air. The last thing you saw before your vision tunnelled into darkness was Tom, reaching out to try and catch you. 

Because next thing you knew, you were on the floor, wires from all the cameras and lights digging into your back as you looked up to see Tom on one side and Lucy on the other - both wearing a similarly panicked expression. You knew you hadn’t been out long, seconds if that, going by the fact everyone else was in the ‘oh my god’ phase of panic. It was a bit weird how calm you where, but then again all your life you’d been the ‘class fainter’. Waking up on the floor was something you were long since used to. 

“Y/n? You awake?” Rather stating the obvious Tom asked the question as you bent your head up - allowing you sight of all the concerned facing oggling you. With a defeated sigh, you flopped your head back. 

“If this is a dream then it’s a real bloody nightmare.” This time Tom didnt seem to appreciate your joke, looking at you without almost dumbfounded eyes, as you blinked repetitively and groaned. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Lucy appeared to want to lecture you, which to be honest wasn’t the most time appropriate. You were still on the floor, legs crumpled up under you, so ignored her. Instead you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, taking a moment to blink away the blotchy haze that threatened to takeover your vision once again, whilst the pair above you both cautiously rested their palms on each of your shoulders -trying to be useful. The room still felt cramped and stifling, as everyone around were no doubt looking at you. 

It took a few minutes but your body seemed to get over itself, sitting up normally and trying to make small talk with Ali - who, by the way, was still sat awkwardly in the chair. Still nestled on the floor, your back up against the chair you had been siting on as you raved with Ali of the Harry Potter theatre show. In a natural lull in conversation, Tom perked up - from the door where he’d been muttering with the organiser as Lucy bit her nails nervously. 

“Y/n you need to go home.” 

All of you knew what Tom said was impossible. Not being egotistical, but you were too important. Although you hadn’t been paying masses of attention for Lucy’s run down of your itinerary - you knew it was packed. 

So you just looked up and rolled your eyes at Tom, earning yourself a strong glare, before locking the organiser in eye contact.

“How many have we got till lunch?” 

“Um this gent here” He gesturned toward Ali, who was almost squirming in his seat now “then two more.”  

“And then lunch?” 

“Yes, then you have a personal appearance at a dinner, so transport will be coming to pick you both up.” This poor guy seemed obsessed with the clock and his timetable, looking at your with a mixture of panic and frustration. You should know this stuff, you should’ve listened to Lucy. 

“How fars the drive?” 

“At this time probably an hour and a half.” 

The plan was clear in your head, you’d sort yourself out in the car and be fully fine by the afternoon and evening engagements. Plus you felt almost fine now. So with a sigh, you hauled yourself up onto the chair, patting for Tom to sit back down. 

“It’s half an hour and then I’ll sort myself out at lunch - come on their waiting.” The way Lucy pouted showed she disagreed somewhat, except a stern look kept her from protesting, as Tom walked toward you. 

“Are you sure you don’t loo-“

“Let me stop you before you insult my appearance.” Snickering slightly at his worried face, you laughed it off , knocking his side with a gentle murmur of ‘don’t worry about me’. 

In fact after that little episode you did feel a little recovered, which meant you were properly noticing the change in the boy sat next to you. Throughout the remaining three interviews he’d done a complete 360 from earlier. Rather than trying to get little digs at you, he had become fiercely protective - jumping in if a questions wasn’t particularly appropriate or relevant to the movie ( meaning when an awfully crap man asked what underwear you’d been able to wear in your suit) ; taking the heat of the conversation as well as just watching you like a hawk. Each time you answered his beady brown eyes were watching you from the side, you got the impression it wasn’t only just because of the risk of spoilers. 

Quite remarkably, you survived the rest of the day pretty well, after a power nap in the car on the way over - even if it was a bit difficult when you had your manager watching you like a hawk from the seat across. It was as if Lucy had never seen anyone ill before, she seemed concerned that you were going to spontaneously stop breathing and die at any point. 

Though by the time all the official business at the dinner was done, your body and willpower had reached the end of their tether. You and Tom were both on a round table, surrounded by 6 CEOs and execs of what seemed to be a multimillion pound business enterprise. With the language barrier meaning you had to speak through the two people on the table who were fluent in both japanese and English, the conversation was already pretty jilted. Though to be fair, the six did seem to be enjoying the evening - something you werent able to reciprocate. Thankfully, five minutes after the main course dishes had been collected, Tom spoke up from his position opposite you.

“This has been lovely and we really appreciate your time and generosity but me and Y/n have a really early start tomorrow so I think we should probably get back to the hotel.” You swore in that moment you could’ve kissed him, and it looked like Tom could tell - by the way your shoulders sagged and you let out an exhale of pure relief. Apparently even if you’d managed to convince the hosts you were enjoying the evening, Tom easily saw through the performance. After some hurried goodbyes, Tom led you out of the hall with his hand hovering over your lowerback, trying to make sure your exit was as discreet as possible. 

Away from the bubble of chatter and activity, in the deserted hallway, Tom stopped you - lightly holding both hands on each of your arms. 

“Wheres your team?” 

“Um Luce is back at the hotel, she was trying to see if she could reschedule any of my stuff tomorrow.” You winced at the way he sighed, realising you were all on your own in some random business event hall in Tokyo.

“Harry -my brother- is waiting in the car at the front - is that okay?”

“No Tom, don’t worry abo-“

“Yeh well I am and I think you feel ten times worse than you’re letting on.” He spoke harshly, like a school teacher telling you off - except the hint of a kind smile at the end was a dead giveaway. 

“You sure?” 

With a relieved nod (Tom had thought you might be a bit more stubborn - you obviously were really really ill) he wordlessly shrugged his suit jacket off, wrapping it round your shoulders. He muttered something about not wanting you to catch a chill but to be quite honest you were a bit distracted by the woody cedar smell of Toms aftershave that enveloped your senses. Maybe it wasn’t so bad being fussed on by him? To be fair he wasn’t wrong either, you were in a strapless evening dress - you would’ve preferred to be in joggers, but Marvels press team had other ideas. 

After a quick pit stop at the toilets, the two of you managed to make an unnoticed escape out the building - into a big SUV which had seconds prior pulled up onto the steps. You literally melted into the nearest window seat, body hunching over as you probably crumpled Tom’s jacket beyond belief. 2 seats along from you, a frizzy haired boy gave you a sympathetic smile, which you returned weakly whilst muttering a ‘hi’. Meanwhile, Tom pulled the sliding door shut, sitting across from you. 

“Oh Y/n this is Harry and Harry this is Y/n.” In unison both of you replied with an ‘I know’ eye roll. Your response was somewhat more shocking to both Holland boys, you could tell from the way they had this whole nonverbal conversation with their eyes - they were very clearly brothers. Needing to explain you continued. “I like to keep tabs on my castmates, I’ve seen you on Toms instagram.” That had both boys smirking, Harry presumably just because you knew who he was; Tom more smugly, you’d just given away you slightly stalked him on instagram. 

Silence reigned for a moment, as the driver put his foot down slightly. 

“How you doing?” Tom asked. 

“Mhm…” you thought for a second, how to eloquently describe the sensation. 

“shit.” 

Both boys chuckled a little and even though you had closed your eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing behind your temples, you could feel the eyes on you. 

“You want the music off?” Harry asked, referring to the indie-rock coming quietly out the speakers of his laptop, which was resting on his lap. With a shake of your head you refused, even if really silence probably would help your head, you were already causing the two Hollands enough trouble - no need to bore them during the journey back into central Tokyo, especially when you weren’t the most enthusiastic company ever. 

Thankfully the music stayed on a low volume, whilst the car seemed to settle into a comfortable silence. With a long exhale you fluttered your eyes open, seeing Tom focused on his phone, before you rested the side of your head against the black-out glass. Taking some relief from the cool glass, you huddled further into the corner of the car against the door.

Floating in the space between sleep and wakefulness, you were kind of aware of your head occasionally bobbing and jerking about - but really didn’t have the energy or willpower to do anything about it. Instead, the thing that perked your attention was hearing some supposed-whispering from inside the body of the car.

“I know she said she didn’t care but she was clearly lying-“ 

“Like you know! You’ve been desperate to try and spend some time with Y/n- maybe you poisoned her just so you could be all knight-in-shini-“

“Turn. The. Music. Off.” Tom sounded scathing now, and with a grumble from your other-side the cheery drum beats ceased.

“Happy now?” …and Harry was sarcastic. 

“Swap places with me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

“So she can lie down.” 

“Well no because you would still be in the way if we swapped.”

“Yeh but she can lie on my lap idiot.”

“She can lie on me.”

“She doesn’t know you!”

“Well for 1, barely ten minutes ago she said she did know me. And 2, she doesn’t know you any better!”

If this was their version of whispering, you would love to hear what volume ‘shouting’ was. There was no reply for a short while, you imagined the two brunettes locked in some intense staring match.The next time Tom spoke he sounded more defeated - almost begging. 

“If I admit you beat me at the driving range the other day will you-” 

“I KNEW IT!” Harry yelped, the volume making you jerk, eyes flying open before reflexively closing because the light was too bright. There was a little mutter of an apology, then silence again. 

Once agin you must’ve drifted off because it felt like absolutely no time had passed when a firm but gently hand on your shoulder nudged you awake. 

Sure enough the boys had swapped position, Tom now sitting along the seat from you, Harry looked a little sulky from across the way. It was Tom who was reaching over, a gentle and peaceful smile on his face.

“You wanna lie down? Don’t want you to strain your neck.” He wasn’t wrong, adding to the throbbing headache, the cloudiness in your brain and the unsettled feeling in your stomach… now your neck hurt. Just bloody great. 

Had you been your normal witty and perceptive self, you might’ve teased Tom as to why him and his brother had done a switch - but everything hurt and all you wanted to do was sleep for a hundered years. So with squinting eyes you jerkily nodded, missing how Tom chuckled to himself. The guy undid your seatbelt, then sat back to let you balance the back of your head on his thigh, looking up at the roof of the SUV. Already your eyes were closed again, you kicked off your slip-on heels and bent your legs up to lean against the backrest - occupying the position you had been sat in before hand. You felt his hands reposition the jacket, pulling it round so it was now like a blanket tucked under your chin. 

To be fair it was much more comfortable than sitting up and you weren’t even aware of how quickly you dropped back into sleep. 

Though it wasn’t quick enough to miss Harry’s very sulky sounding comment, presumably meant only for Tom’s ears. 

“Still think you’re being fucking creepy bro.” 

<33 lemme know what u think! (would make me feel less guilty for not doing all the work I rlly should be doing aha)

tagging : @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom Holland angst #tom Holland fluff #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #harry holland #tom holland request

[lyssismagical]

72 w Parkner pls 🥺

just some bb fluff between the Keener-Parker-Stark family uwu

*

“I'll see you in a few hours, babe,” Morgan says, leaning up to kiss her partner. “I love you.”

Saylor smiles and gently pushes a strand of hair behind Morgan’s ear. “I love you too. Have fun. Tell them I said hi.”

Morgan and Saylor have been together for three years now, having met in Morgan’s third year of college, studying to become a teacher. Saylor’s in med school.

They live together in New York, only a few hours’ drive away from Stark Towers where Harley and Peter live.

She hasn’t had a day off between school and her job as a teaching assistant, not to mention having just gotten a puppy with Saylor who needs constant attention and care.

The drive to Stark Industries is a little boring, traffic a little heavier than usual on a Saturday morning. She feels a little bad about not spending the weekend with her partner who’s also rarely free, but she also hasn’t made the trip to see her family in quite a while.

Harley and Peter are sitting at the breakfast bar, knees touching and Harley’s laughing bright and loud at something Peter must’ve said. They both look tired, despite the weekend beginning, but she knows the business has been under some heat lately.

Peter’s up, out of his seat as soon as he sees her, pulling her into a warm hug. “I’ve missed you, bug. How are you? How’s Saylor? How’s school?”

“Let her breathe, darling,” Harley says, leaning over his husband to ruffle Morgan’s hair. “You want a coffee?”

“Yes, please, traffic was awful.”

Harley smiles and heads off towards the kitchen, leaving Peter to fuss over Morgan.

“You look tired, have you been sleeping alright?”

“Peter, I’m fine, I promise. I’m twenty-four, you don’t need to worry about me like I’m still fourteen.”

He sighs wearily, it’s obvious it hasn’t exactly been an easy week for him. “I know. But you’ll always be my little bug.”

“I’m good, really, Peter. I’m happy.”

Harley returns, pressing an old Iron Man mug into her hands. “How’s Saylor? I miss that kid.”

“They’re good… Busy, that’s for sure. Med school, the internship at the hospital, taking care of Nova. We’ve both been busy, but they’re happy. They’ve got the weekend off to just play with Nova and rest.”

Peter goes to respond, but his phone ringing cuts him off. “Sorry, I should probably… Hello?”

Harley sighs, leading Morgan to the living room. “It’s been complicated lately.”

“I heard, is everything okay?”

“One of our rival companies, they’re fighting dirty and it’s putting a lot of pressure on us. We’ve already lost a few employees, as well as some investors because of them. But we’re making progress and it’ll all blow over soon enough.”

Morgan nods, pulling her knees up to her chest on the couch, tucking herself into the warmth. It’s the same old couch that Tony bought decades ago, there’s a few photographs of her here when she must’ve been two to four years old, her dad holding her in his lap. On one hand, she knows why they haven’t bothered to replace it, every memory of Tony is important to all three of them and seems almost wrong to get rid of anything that belonged to him. But on the other hand, it really is just a couch. An old, worn-leather couch, with rips in the seams and stains along the back.

“Peter looks exhausted,” she says, watching carefully as Harley’s face shifts into worried sadness.

“He is. You know how he gets when it comes to anything surrounding your dad.”

Peter slips into the room, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry to cut this short, but PR needs one of us downstairs.”

“I’ll get it,” Harley offers, already bringing himself to his feet.

“No, it’s okay. You took the last one. I’ll go, sort this out, I’ll hopefully be back within an hour or two. I’ll bring takeout for lunch, sound good?”

Harley sighs and Morgan knows she makes the exact same expression as he does whenever Saylor picks up extra hours at the hospital or stays up all night to study.

She’s never really known the two of them apart, she was too young to remember them before they got together, way back when they were eighteen and nineteen. They’ve been together ever since, bar the one time in college where they split up for nearly four months, long-distance having become too much for them.

She’s never known Harley without the permanent wrinkle between his brows from the constant worry of dating a selfless superhero. She’s never known Peter without the messy curls, having given up gel and product when Harley convinced him he looked better without it.

When she was young, she always worried that she’d never find love the way her parents did, the way she saw Harley and Peter, so unconditional, so pure, so endless. She worried she wouldn’t find the person who was clearly meant to be her other half like Peter is for Harley and Harley is for Peter.

But then she met Saylor.

“Bye, bug, I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

She hugs Peter goodbye, settling back into the cushions beside Harley.

“How did you know you were going to be with Peter forever?” Morgan asks. She adores the way Harley’s expression goes gentle and nostalgic and loving.

“Peter likes to say that he knew when we met, that very first time, at the cabin. But I don’t think it was ever quite that simple, you know? I knew I loved him when we were in college and he was in Massachusetts while I was in California, and I woke up one day, and found Peter in my dorm room. He’d flown all the way out, on his long weekend, just to spend time with me. He was sitting next to me, reading the book I had to write an essay on so he’d be able to me. It was so simple, so easy, and it was clear, in that moment, that I could do that forever. Wake up next to him, live in simple domesticity with him.”

“And you wanted to do that forever?”

She knows that moment with Saylor, too. They had come home from a long day at school and a long evening at the hospital, and they had picked up her favourite meal for dinner on the way home. They had curled up on the couch together, eaten dinner, and watched a movie, and smiled when Morgan had ranted about the antagonist of the film.

“For as long as he’d have me.”

“And you’ve never once gone back on that?”

Harley shrugs, eyes far away. “I fucked up in college, I nearly ruined the best thing I’d ever had, and that’s the biggest regret I’ll have to carry with me. That’s the only regret I’ll ever have about our relationship, is hurting him and losing four months with him.”

“I think I want to ask Saylor to marry me,” Morgan says. She’s certain about that, but god is she ever nervous. “I love them more than anything.”

“I know.” Harley nudges her with his shoulder. “Every time you talk about them, you get that same look that I see on Peter’s face constantly. And that- that’s a lot. I see it on Saylor’s face too, when they talk about you.”

“You do?”

Harley’s smile widens. “I do. It’s clear how much that kid loves you. And if you’re even a fraction as sure as I was when I proposed, then you should go for it.”

“How did you do it?”

“It’s about as dramatic as you’d expect from us. He was-” Harley stops, swallows visibly. “He was dying. He’d been hurt while on a mission and I was there, I was holding him and he was- he was dying. Bucky had to physically restrain me while Sam got him to help… It was the most scared I’d ever been.”

“He was okay, though.”

“Yeah, somehow he always is. He was in that goddamn hospital bed and he was so high on pain killers and I just, I asked him to marry me.”

“That simple?”

“That simple.”

Morgan laughs a little. “And he said yes?”

“He did. He said yes. And when he was released from the hospital, he laughed so hard he cried because he couldn’t believe that’s how I asked him.”

And god does Morgan ever want that with Saylor. She loves her partner like crazy, loves them to the moon and back, she never wants to go another day without them, she doesn’t want to spend another second without being able to call her partner, her fiancé.

“I want to marry Saylor,” she says again.

Harley grins. “I’m proud of you.”

“For being in love?”

“For being unapologetically you and going after what you want.”

Morgan leans into Harley, his arm coming up to wrap around her shoulders. “You think they’ll say yes?”

“No question about it, kid.”

“If they do…” She trails off nervously. “Would you and Peter walk me down the aisle?”

Harley presses a kiss to her temple. “We would love to. And I’m sure we could have Nova trained to be a ring bearer in no time.”

Morgan laughs at the thought of her clumsy, bouncy little puppy trying to do anything with finesse.

Peter returns with lunch a little while later.

As soon as he walks in, he drops the bags down on the table and says, “I want a baby.”

“What?” Harley lets out a little surprised laugh and Morgan bursts into giggles at the absurdity.

“Quinn brought her baby in for the meeting because she couldn’t get a babysitter in time,” Peter explains, pouting childishly. “And I want one.”

Harley shakes his head, more dumbfounded than disagreeing. “You want a baby.”

“I want a baby,” he repeats. “I want a little tiny thing with ten fingers and ten toes and a beating heart.”

Morgan laughs again, walking up to hug Peter. “God, I missed how absolutely crazy you are.”

“Okay, darling, how about you eat some food and we’ll talk some more later?”

It’s not a no and Peter grins triumphantly.

“When did you know that you wanted to be with Harley forever?” Morgan asks before she can stop herself.

Peter’s smile widens and he looks to Harley with the softest, most lovestruck eyes she’s ever seen. “I was fifteen.”

“Fifteen? You were seventeen when we met.”

Peter slides a hand over Harley’s shoulder, tucking himself into his husband’s side. “I was fifteen and I was here with Tony. Right here, actually. We were having a lab night and he mentioned something about a potato gun kid. And I asked him to tell me about you. About dumbass Harley Keener who didn’t know when to stop, who was talkative and loud and sarcastic and annoying. Harley who helped save Tony’s life. And I thought, wow, if anybody would know what it feels like to be me, it’d be Harley.”

“Really?”

“I googled you later that day and I scrolled through your mom’s entire facebook, wondering just who was special enough to stay in Tony’s head for so long, so fresh. I told Ned, I said to him, I’m gonna meet this kid and I’m going to marry him one day because who else is worthy of my love than somebody who could save Tony Stark’s life.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not! It’s all true. Ask Ned, he’ll tell you.”

Harley rolls his eyes in pure adoration. “You never told me that.”

“I was embarrassed and then it didn’t seem relevant anymore.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to learning things about you, Parker.”

Peter grins up at him. “Like how I want to have a baby?”

“You two would be amazing dads,” Morgan says, almost shyly. That part of their relationship isn’t talked about very much, how they might as well have raised Morgan, filled in the spot that her dad left when she was so young. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, bug,” Peter murmurs.

“If you take tomorrow off, we’ll start researching, alright?” Harley bargains. A day off is hard to come by with Peter, but with an ultimatum like that, Peter can’t possibly say no.

Peter kisses him in response.

April Parker is the flower girl at Saylor and Morgan’s wedding that fall.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideyspeaches @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames @you-did-it-sir @not-today-thx @fandomstuffff

{Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

#lyss writes #parkner #lyss answers #harley keener #peter parker #morgan stark #mcu #spider man #tony stark #parent peter parker #dad peter parker #dad harley keener

[fallingsunflower]

BESTIES I'm so sorry - I hit my post limit waaaay earlier than expected! Some of y'all joined me on my backup account, (which I also hit the limit on lmao), but I'm back now.

I had over 400 asks to go through and I'll give you a warning that not all of them will appear (either because they were old or because they were topics we already answered). But here is a giant list of asks I compiled for you from when I wasn't allowed to post lol they don't really require my response but I found them entertaining to read. Hope you don't mind I've just put them all together in one post. It's also to save me from using up my 250 posts lol

"this is all so embarrassing like my god imagine when the promotion of the movie starts how horrible it will be for other people who made the movie too"

"SELL UR TICKETS TODAY WATCH THE MOVIE ILLEGALLY, next article we’ll be talking about these two assholes filing for bankruptcy. cheap harlots. don’t mess with your meal ticket."

"hate to say it but i defs think they‘ve got a sliver of the gp’s attention for five minutes"

"I am scanning through all these photos looking for just ONE where he looks like he's smiling and enjoying this. It's so crazy."

"I guess those are all the pics we’re getting right now. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they finish the Italy trip off with one more major Backgrid photo shoot."

"Olivia’s trending on Twitter but not Harry. Like it’s obvious who’s getting the PR gains here!"

"If they dont give us a 6 month or more break after this im gonna need them to pay for my therapy bills from now on bc of this damage no joke let me crawl back into my shit hole now 😑"

"The palce they at is referred to as “tuscanys best-kept secret”. Everyone point and laugh."

"she looks like she’s enjoying all of this. he looks like he wants to push her into the water."

"a few people said he’s keeping his shorts pulled up or covered in all the shots because of the Nike branding which they ask to not get photographed. What a setup."

"Man I knew the second those Tomdaya pics came out of them kissing and how they were trending so fast that HO were going to do something to 'top' them. Its pathetic /// FRRR. she probably hoped for the positive reactions that people gave tom & zendaya but unfortunately, miss girl got the opposite. when will they realize that nobody, but his fans, find them cute lmao can they just stop, it’s so embarrassing 😭😭😭"

"He really out here doing this with someone who almost old enough to be his mother, shiiiiiiiit. Sickening. Sick of these 2 for real now, i was fine with the good old blurry back content and whatnot but this? Crossing a line here nobody wanna see that shit and knowing how people feel goooooood damn."

"I aboslutely despise kendall for obvious reason but this one is actually worse than the hendall one bc you couldnt really see as much as now dis gos tang."

"She’s also wearing the cross necklace again. I feel like if that was so meaningful to her she wouldn’t risk loosing it in the ocean 🙄"

"guys have eyes on tmz. I Do not have tw now. they were so aggressive towards them"

"I'm sorry for Harry because you lost your damn mind bro"

"Now why the hendall pics are better ?? NO SHADE BUTT"

"I’m genuine confused like do they actually want dwd to flop or what? I just threw up in my mouth I sure as hell ain’t gonna watch their sorry ass movie. Is it supposed to flop? I’m so confused!"

"The match was not interesting enough so they cooked up something different especially since people were pointing out how they staged the PDA. And the page 6 article is out already!!!"

"Who the fuck thought this was a good idea"

"Is it just me or does harry's face looks really blank for someone out on a Romantic date with his alleged girlfriend.?"

"if thats it, harry hasn’t no game🤣🤣🤣🤣"

"so this is why the tabloids weren’t talking about the match pics! they didn’t have any value on their own. now with the yacht pics? my oh my they’re gonna get the clicks of their lives. her team was prob like “wait a sec we got something for y’all”"

"If they were models hired to act like a couple they wouldn't get the job......"

"Not them starring right at the camera in some of them help make it less obvious will you"

"HENDALL🤣🤣🤣is that uuuu"

"Harry’s ass crack thought it should make an appearance too."

"What a great day for team PR, happy Monday you guys! Let's pop the champagne 🍾🍾🍾🍾 P. S. They both need acting lessons, tbh"

"It’s quite interesting how everything that’s happened before I’ve seen predicted weeks/and in advance on blogs or fan accounts. Like his life has always been so predictable but damn"

"He was hiding the Nike check. That’s why his swim trucks are rolled up to an absurd degree even for him. He knew he was gonna get photographed."

"What I’m noticing is wether people like them together or not, everyone’s saying they’re aren’t a hot couple…there was more chemistry in the Kendall pics by far"

"i also find it weird that he’s not smiling in any of the pictures and it would be one thing if there were five pics from ten minutes of time but there are like 70 from an obvious extended period of time"

"It's interesting everyone involved is being Team Try Hard. Yet the universe says no. The last set of pics, Tom and Zendaya overshadowed. People even paid more attention to Angelina and the Weekend (even if business possibly). Fast forward to today and all this fakery only for Gwen/Blake to tie the knot. His team needs to get a clue. She needs to go. Harry needs to clean this up fast."

"Ok i looked at one hugging pic and one kidding pic and they could not look more stagged. It looks unatural ,strange and weird from all angles. You can clearly see from their body posture they are posing for a photographer from backgrid."

"Like I said in my ask a couple days ago the day we get kissing pics is the day that I believe this is all a stunt and I was right. They took a page out of hendall 2016 and it’s looks so forced and awkward. Hendall did it better cause at prater they had chemistry. They must be scared this movie is going to tank because they are pushing this way too hard"

"Real, PR, or whatever relationship it is, they’re fucking boring. You are on a yacht in Italy, can’t you have a little bit of fun? I can’t believe how boring they are, I just can’t. Even if it is just PR, can’t you make a fucking dumb joke so you can laugh or something? Do they have anything in common like to talk about or discuss or make fun of? I’d literally killed myself if I looked like that in a relationship. They are not communicating in any photos we’ve got. They are just walking, or sitting. Even when they hold hands or kiss or hug, they never communicate."

"okay but did ya’ll see the pic of her diving in?? i can’t stop laughing 😭😭😭😭"

"they look horrifically awkward i cannot believe what harry is doing"

"“HEY PAPS COME GET A PIC OF US KISSING TO MAKE OUR RELATIONSHIP MORE BELIEVABLE!!!!!”"

"his ass is hanging out and her bra is almost off what in the hell"

"Hqs on a yacht like that? Mhmhmhm hmmmmm / I bloody well hope that’s not the extend of their acting. That’s dire! 🤦‍♀️"

"this is literally the most predictable “couple” to exist. first, people talked about them showing up the game, and they did. second, people were just talking about kissing pics... AND THEY JUST CAME OUT LMAOOOOOO"

"annnnnnnnnnnnnd there it is. YOU KNOW THEY KNEW THERE WAS A CAMERA."

"ok but where’s the pda or did that get made up? cause these have to be the most awkward pics i’ve ever seen which makes me feel better 😂 also i can feel the meme’s coming with the one of her diving off the boat"

"I call it how I see it they are both assholes and full of shit. Like do your fake kiss somewhere else I do not want to see it!"

"Can they at least act like they’re having a good time?"

"hahahaha I can't stop laughing with that photo of O it's literally her knowing she's being photographed and diving into a professional swimmer style😭"

"the pics are so organic that Olivia is looking straight at the pap before kissing Harry."

"he looked a lot happier with kendall in their yacht pics compared to today’s. i know that was PR too, but he was very smiley and seemed talkative. with this girl it’s like the complete opposite lmao."

#this is also good visual proof for how many people are on team PR lol

[thewebcomicsreview]

Normally I open up the Homestuck 2 liveblog with a tongue-in-cheek comment about how reading HS2 is pain, but I just watched the debate and HS2 looks incredible by comparison, so let’s see if this good mood carries over. Looks like we’re on Candyland, too, Candy updates tend to be better (or at least bad in a funny way) than the oft-boring Meat updates, and personally, I think “The Omega Kids fuck around” is the best part of HS2 by yards.

Man, that lamp is almost perfectly positioned to draw a line through the image separating the two scenes (the dialogue for which is on two separate columns), but it’s just the tiniest bit off-center. I wonder if that was intentional and mobile-responsiveness is just a cruel mistress. It’s a cute touch, if so. I suppose the door (and the photos, which are the same height as the door) also serves the same purpose of having the two scenes be sectioned off. I don’t really know a lot about “scene composition” so maybe I should stay in my wheelhouse, but I think it’s divided very nicely

HARRY: and some of us aren't gods and shit. JOHN: i'm detecting a hint of judgement in your voice, there, harry anderson JOHN: don't you enjoy being a part of all this? finally getting to be in the thick of it all?

John, always dense, has not picked up on Harry Anderson’s demotion to Harry. He’s also inserting a lot of his own desires onto Harry, here, too. Vrissy is the one who wanted to be in the thick of it all (thematic idea to stick a pin into to see if it plays out: John should be mentoring Vrissy and Vriska should be mentoring Harry. Some evidence that HS2 is building this idea, but not a lot yet)

HARRY: now YOU look like you're hiding some extra commentary. JOHN: oh, i don't need to burden you with all the bureaucratic stuff, it's boring.

You gotta subscribe to John’s $20/mo Patreon tier for that, Harry.

JOHN: because here i am, sitting in the dugout, same as you. HARRY: in the dugout? JOHN: oh, or, uh... JOHN: what's a metaphor you might like better... HARRY: no, JOHN: i'm like the uhh...understudy. HARRY: dad. no, jesus, you don't have to do this. JOHN: or i got cast in as babysitter number 2 when i had auditioned for, i dunno, HARRY: yeah, please, i got the baseball metaphor. HARRY: i'm not a complete fucking nerd.

John doesn’t really “get” theater kids, I get. It makes me think a little of how John’s dad thought John was massively into clowns. Also, this is a cute.

JOHN: it's been really nice to get to spend so much time with you. HARRY: um. yeah, it's not so bad. HARRY: anyway, before you ruffle my hair or anything, it looks like things are getting a bit heated between the vriskas over there. HARRY: maybe we should offer them a snack to bring the mood back down? JOHN: me, mess up your hair when you’ve worked so hard on that look? i do know you at least that well, harry anderson HARRY: thank god.

This is also cute. Harry maybe the only person in the entire cast of Homestuck or Homestuck 2 to have a semi-normal relationship with his parents.

Speaking of semi-symmetry, the line where Harry says how happy he is to stay home almost lines up perfectly with Vriska being furious that she has to stay home. I wonder again if that’s a coincidence of if someone had a really clever idea that didn’t make it fully intact through editing (or was considered not worth the effort). 

VRISKA: How are you so calm right now? Your lusii were training you, right? And you’re a troll, you’re definitely five times stronger than a human! And if you’re my clone, you are way more 8adass than little miss Fussy Fangs.

Vriska is making several false assumptions here, but the most interesting one is that Vrissy is Vriska’s clone. She’s not. She’s descended from Vriska, and takes after Vriska very strongly, but it’s not a one-to-one thing.

VRISSY: 8ut I guess this Situation is Kind of Serious? VRISSY: There’s a whole Plan and Stuff Like that. VRISKA: Clearly not a good plan, 8ecause then I would 8e part of it!

Vriska.jpg

VRISKA: That’s just even more indication that they don’t know what they’re doing! Lalonde and Maryam have had however many sweeps to get older and stupider, 8ut from where I’m standing, it was literally only a few days ago that I was their commander! I am primed for the 8attlefield!

Okay, this line is across from John saying he’s in the dugout. There is absolutely an intentional, if not one-to-one strict, mirroring of these two conversations that’s actually really neat. I should go back to the other times HS2 has had conversations formatted like this to see if this mirroring has been happening all along. It’s a really good use of the format! I like this a lot! 

JOHN: so anyway, as you can see, this would have worked just fine! HARRY: no i think karkat’s right. this looks like shit, dad. JOHN: you know, me letting your earlier use of the word "fuck" slide wasn't a blanket approval for all cursing in front of me. HARRY: sorry. HARRY: try not to make such a shit plan, and i won't call it that. JOHN: haha wow.

The other thing I like is the John/Harry dynamic. 

HARRY: it's not like i think i'm any better! HARRY: i mean, i still can't believe i told vrissy and them to bring a dead celebrity to school. HARRY: what was i THINKING. JOHN: you were thinking it sounded hilarious! JOHN: but yeah, in hindsight, maybe not the best call. JOHN: maybe it’s genetic? HARRY: yeah. HARRY: i kinda can’t believe we’re all still alive, actually. HARRY: and how did YOU make it this far, being so bad at this? JOHN: i had my friends with me, i guess.

John your friends repeatedly tried to kill you and succeeded at least twice. 

He’d spent so long seeing mostly the best parts of Roxy in Harry Anderson. He forgot, he guesses, to look for himself in there, too. And if what they have in common right now is a lack of strategic foresight, hey, he’ll take it.

I’m slowly developing a theory that John is subconsciously the narrator of Candy, given how everything suddenly started going John’s way after Calliope left (and how the narrator seemed to really hate Gamzee last chapter). Remember, John has spoken in narration before in HS1, but never seemed to realize he was doing it. I probably need to essay this theory out at some point, but not now.

Oh, hey! Jane does have goons! And they’ve slightly change the way they draw Rose’s hair, so her head isn’t a perfect circle with lines on it. This looks much better. 

JANE: I haven't given a political speech in years, Ms. Lalonde. I don't know what you're referring to. I'm just a simple business woman. JADE: right with her own talk show JADE: and multi billion dollar merchant company and lobbying groups! JANE: That's what a business woman is, Jade, dear.

I know that this is supposed to be Capitalism Bad, but “You claim to be a businesswoman when you own a merchant company!”. Jade. Come on. This reads less as Jane going “Of course I’m evil, I’m a CEO” and more that Jade literally doesn’t know what a business woman is. 

JANE: You are on my territory, in the presence of my secret police, laying your hand on my investment.

Jane you don’t own “territory” do you not know what a businesswoman is either?

JANE: Your ship is in contested airspace. You will land, whereby it will be confiscated by the Royal Human Guard. After that you will be taken into custody. 

CONTESTED BY WHOM, JANE? WHO THE FUCK IS THE WAR BETWEEN?!

JADE: shut the fuck up for a minute and look up!

There’s a BIG-ASS spaceship like ten feet in front of you! Did you not notice until Jade pointed it out?

Also why does the Rebellion ship have the Crockercorp prongs on it?

JANE: Or have you forgotten who has been paying for her schooling and taking charge of her introduction into society? JADE: i never asked you to do that! JADE: you offered! JADE: so stop calling me ungrateful for not sucking your dick over things i never asked for!

Sorry again, Jade, are you implying that you wouldn’t have given your daughter an education had Jane not offered? “Rose and Jade entrusted their daughter to Jane, who they were at war with” is an enigma of a plot point.

The world is watching her be dressed down by a couple blood traitor rebels, one of which has very prominent dog ears. Jane wonders if either of them are even recognizable to the assembled as two of the old gods. One of her PR managers had recommended that she keep her look as static as possible, so that people can always recognize her as Jane Crocker, Captain of Industry, Creator of Earth C, Maintainer of Peace and Plenty.

Jade has always had dog ears what the fuck? I guess this is supposed to be Jane’s warped thinking.

So, anyway, Kanaya fake-holds Tavvy hostage, Jane buys the threat as real and they build up like Jane is going to sacrifice her own son for PR points but she ultimately stands down and lets everyone go. It’s left intentionally vague whether or not she was always going to do this, or if she didn’t want to do it in front of Jake, or if the presence of Jake stirred something in her that made her change her mind. I like the ambiguity. 

This was a very “Homestuck 2″ update. The plot of kind of nonsense, but it’s carried by the character interactions and a bit of cleverness.

#Homestuck 2 #Homestuck 2 liveblog #Homestuck

[eury--dice]

history, huh?

chapter 2: prope

(check the rb for chapter 1 on tumblr + ao3 links!)

Blue’s gum popped loudly on the other line. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he saw her chew gum, but somehow it seemed fitting that she picked up the habit then, with him overseas. “Any weird paintings?”

“I’m legally obligated not to tell you,” Adam replied, flicking his eyes over a textbook. He scanned his eyes over a page, but the fonts and colors all blurred together, creating a grey and red mass of string in front of him instead of a helpful breakdown of France’s pre-revolution economy. His phone, propped up on a tiny potted fern, revealed Blue Sargent in all of her early-evening glory. He wondered what the tabloids might think of her like this: her thick and short black hair held back by clashing vibrant hair clips, dressed in one of Gansey’s old Aglionby sweaters she converted into a halter top, felt-tip pen ink somehow smudged on her cheek. There was something wonderfully grounding about her familiar chaos.

“Contracts are a suggestion and nothing more.”

“Don’t let your mother hear that. She’ll have us both thrown in jail.” Ronan’s words from earlier popped into his head, but he had the luxury of ignoring them with the prince out of sight, and so he did. 

“C’mon, Adam, you know she’s a softie. You’re in Kensington Palace. You have to tell me something exciting.”

Adam scrounged for something to tell her. He glanced around his room again, still caught off-guard by how much it felt like a castle. Admittedly, he didn’t have a great reference for what castles were supposed to feel like; the only other castle he had been in was the Bishop Palace on a tour with his mother at age eight. His hair raised on end at random moments here the same way it did then, the draftiness leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He couldn't quite shake the idea that someone was watching him, caught between air molecules and screaming for someone to hear them. The White House sometimes gave him the same feeling. Realistically, he knew people passed over every spot on the earth and nothing made the walls of the White House or Kensington Palace any different in that regard. But the history in them intimidated him. The presence of greats, from founding fathers to celebrity politicians to monarchs, was a guarantee rather than a possibility. He couldn’t help but feel watched by them, feel their expectations and disappointment thick in the air.

Living there all the time as Ronan did must be lonely, surrounded only by ghosts. 

He pushed his feet against the floor, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced on two legs. His leg swung back and forth to dully hit the wooden underside of the seat while the other braced him. Adam didn’t quite want to tell Blue any of that. He knew she would understand, both because she was Blue and because her family was a big believer in the supernatural and psychic. But he didn’t know how to say it without a long-winded rant. “There’s a coat of armor outside my room,” he admitted in a low tone. “I’ve been waiting for it to twitch its finger and beckon me closer.”

“I’m sure if you ask nicely it will let you pursue your weird metal fantasies.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Adam said without heat, finally flipping the textbook shut. “No kink-shaming over the phone.”

“I watched the Wizard of Oz with you at age eight, Adam. You can’t hide your reaction to the Tin Man from me.”

Adam rubbed his eyes. “I need ice cream to deal with this bullying,” he announced, standing from the borrowed desk and snatching his phone up.

“Aw, at least I know that the English haven’t been able to suck all the life out of you if you’re complaining and want ice cream.”

“They haven’t managed it yet, but we’re only one photo op in.”

“Well, if the excess of British does manage to sideline you, let me know. I know Gansey will want the heads-up for the tabloids.”

“As long as you don’t feed them headlines again, I’d be happy to.” Adam rounded the corner into the spacious kitchen reserved for guests of the Crown. He’d roll his eyes at the needless expense if the White House didn’t provide the exact same accommodations. 

“I’m telling you again, I know nothing of the allegation.”

Adam gave her a flat look. “Who else would pen ‘First Son Denies Fur Son Residence in the Residence?’ Besides the obvious reason for it being bad, it was clearly you.”

Blue blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Sometimes I hate your intimate knowledge of my love of wordplay.”

“And I yours of the diplomatic taxidermy gifts I receive.”

“I’m sure the Minister of Foreign Affairs’ son meant well, he was just...creepy.”

Adam sighed, opening the freezer with one hand to reveal a box of pre-packaged ice cream cones. “They always mean well.”

He pulled the box from the freezer and shut the door, turning on his heel to face the counter. But he stopped short when he noticed it was no longer just him and Blue alone in the kitchen. 

Prince Ronan stood in the entryway to the kitchen, disarmed in the half-light with his flannel pajama pants and black t-shirt combination. Over-the-ear headphones sat on his head, but he pushed them down to loop around his neck. The music was so loud it bled into the air, carrying the harsh sound of drums until they reached Ronan across the kitchen. On his screen, Blue studied Adam and his sudden pause, and the voice of Gansey carried over from somewhere far away - “I’ve got a new article,” it sounded like, though Adam could barely hear anything. 

“Call you back,” he said quietly, disconnecting from the call. Ronan looked almost apologetic when Adam looked back up towards him.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he confessed. “Goody-two-shoes like you.”

Adam wanted to take offense to it, but something stopped him. “I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, well, insomnia calls.”

“Doesn’t it always?” The two shared a tight smile. 

“I was out,” Ronan explained, gesturing to the box in Adam’s hand. “Knew there’d be a stock here. I’m...sorry.” The word sounded bitter and foreign on his tongue.

“It’s fine,” Adam said. “Midnight snacks are to be taken seriously or not at all.” He slid the box across the counter, suddenly very aware of his threadbare, faded crimson coca-cola tee shirt and GU sweatpants. He couldn’t stop feeling the slide of them against his skin. 

Ronan clutched the box once it reached him, looking to Adam with something close to surprise. Still, he opened the box and selected an ice cream. 

While he was distracted, Adam snapped a picture, the flash bright in the dim kitchen. 

The stare leveled at him by Ronan should’ve been enough to pin any self-preserving person in place, but Adam rarely did what was best for him personally. “What the fuck is that for?”

“Two social media posts a day,” Adam replied, speeding through the filtering process and tapping to the captioning. “It’s part of the contract.”

“Of course it would be,” Ronan mutters with great disdain. “Fucking social media addicted hounds.”

“Not a fan of technology?”

“Oh, sure, other than the fact that it’s a blight consuming the world by slaughtering brain cells and slowly giving us radiation poisoning.”

“You could’ve just said ‘yes.’”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Adam smiled brightly. “Not giving me a headache from all of the pomposity?” 

“Exactly. No fun.” When Adam continued to stare blankly at his screen, Ronan rolled his eyes. “Does it take you this long to caption everything you do? If so, I understand why so little governing takes place.”

“Because the monarchy is oh-so-powerful,” Adam replied, but then decided to cut them off before it could turn into a full-blown fight. “It always takes me a minute to think of something good.”

Ronan grabbed the phone from his hands. “You’re overthinking it,” he dismissed, making a few decisive taps before handing the phone back to Adam, photo captioned but not yet posted. insomnia ice cream ft. @PrinceRonan. 

“Thought you hated technology?”

“Hate and lack of proficiency are two different things.” “...Of course,” Adam said, clicking post on the photo. Ronan turned and walked toward the door, the song on his headphones audibly changing. Not one for goodbyes, then. The feeling he had in his room was back then, the idea that ghosts clung to the air around him and stole oxygen with their demands. Although Ronan had not yet left, Adam already felt as though he were lonely. Lonely, but not alone, still technically with Ronan and all of the ghosts thickening the air.

Adam, in a fluid movement he didn’t really plan, dumped half of the ice creams on the counter and held out the box across the marble countertop as though bridging some wide ocean. The coolness of the marble inched closer to the skin of his forearm where it hovered a few inches in the air.

“You can take these if you’d like.”

Ronan froze, his back straightened and still before he turned ninety degrees back to look at Adam. “Pardon?”

“The ice cream cones. It’s probably better you do, honestly. I just eat them when I’m bored. Calories I don’t really need.”

Ronan’s startlingly blue eyes studied him for a moment, roaming every line of Adam’s face as though searching for some trickery and then jumping to the box in Adam’s outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he said at last in an undertone, accepting the offered box. And, leaving Adam with some hint of a smile, Prince Ronan was gone, Adam all by himself and the faint memory of intense guitar music leaking from expensive headphones still lingering in the air. 

  Once they landed firmly in PR territory, Adam felt a bit steadier on his feet.

PR he knew like the back of his hand, armed with years of experience from campaigns and political terms. It was not innate for him like for Gansey, but like everything else in his life, Adam was a star pupil and quick to pick it up thoroughly. He studied diligently, examining the facial expressions of everyone around him, examining each furrow of brow and twitch of lips and bellow of a laugh, practicing and perfecting on his own to ensure that he blended in seamlessly and, when necessary, stood out brilliantly. America’s First Son, valedictorian-intelligent and attractive enough to stop hearts for a moment upon seeing him. By the time he sat on ITV This Morning next to his enemy, he certainly knew all the tips and tricks and expertise ensuring a successful interview, and luckily Ronan seemed to know his way around a talk show as well. His thoroughly British host seemed appropriately charmed by their dynamic, a golden-child American and England’s simultaneously proper and wild Royal. 

Adam excelled at PR not because he was natural but because he was over-prepared, and so he was comfortable with the rhythm he and Ronan fell into - referencing each other’s favorites, cracking dry, sarcastic jokes about ice cream, fist-bumping and throwing arms around each other’s shoulders for effect when needed.

He counted it as a win that his resentment never made it into his words or his actions. Instead, he distracted himself with what they were doing, savoring the news alerts of their “clearly natural” friendship and the thumbs-up and “!!!” texts from Gansey and Blue whenever something exciting reached the press. He ignored Ronan for the most part, and Ronan mostly ignored him. He clenched his teeth and smiled at how rough-and-tumble Ronan looked under stage lighting, as wickedly handsome as a poisoned and sharpened dagger, unfairly attractive even with his head closely shaved. 

Then the time for their second photo op rolled around, sometime after Adam posted an empty-feeling snapshot of Ronan on a deserted London sidewalk with the caption love a nice mid-afternoon walk, and his mood plummeted sharply. 

As well as people and hospitals generally went together, Adam did not have a particularly terrible relationship with any hospitals, especially the Royal Marsden NHS Foundation Trust. He did not enjoy them, sure, but who did? And his discomfort may have gone below the surface-level “death and sickness occur here” jitteriness most people felt, but the majority of the unease coiling in his stomach came from the utterly staged feeling to everything. The First Son and Prince came bearing gifts of books, but they probably did more harm than good for all of the children by displacing all the medical professionals and disrupting their steady routines with full camera crews.

It felt hypocritical, and Adam definitely didn’t want to be shoving cameras in the faces of cancer patient children, but the decisions weren’t up to him, and so he slipped back into PR mode. He shook the hands of nurses and posed faux-candidly for cameras. The only real things he did were with the kids - once they knew who he was, they asked for stories of celebrities and monuments, and although Adam was no fantastic storyteller, he did his best to answer every question and then some. He read to them, too, from the new and donated books, even when the cameras left in search of Ronan. Anger was hard to hold onto when he looked into their faces and resolved to cheer them up. 

He read until his voice began to grind at itself, tucked next to kids on narrow hospital cots. They were all ages, and all perfectly suited to throw Adam back into memories he didn’t want to relive. Looking at the books, with the gaudily-colored pictures and ridiculous rhymes, was easier than looking at the children. They all looked to him with similar looks painted across their faces and twinkling in their eyes, one that made Adam’s heart twist, because he knew that he’d worn that expression so often as a child when he thought someone could help him or save him. They looked at him like he was hope itself, some savior come to grant them a wish and a recovery. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

The visit of the First Son and Prince of England must have cut into naptime because at some point Adam looked up from the book to realize that the camera crews had retreated and all the patients in his ward had dozed off.  He slowly unfurled himself, gangly limbs and all, to stand without disturbing the child who rested so fitfully on the hospital cot. His steps were soft and random against the tile, mostly just a blind search to try and find Ronan. It wasn’t long before he heard Ronan’s voice stretching over space from the next room over. Adam slowed, hoping to stay just out of sight while still observing Ronan.

The Prince perched on the edge of a narrow hospital bed, reminding Adam ridiculously of a bird poised to take flight. Since there were no cameras near him, his posture was slightly relaxed like it had been in the kitchen the night previously. A little girl clung tightly to his hand while he gestured wildly with his other, her eyes wide and hanging onto his every word. Ronan’s voice was somehow hushed and grand at the same time, his posh accent dulled to something a little more rural.

“When three hundred years had come and gone, the four swans traveled South to the sea of Moyle, braving the turbulent tides that wanted to draw them under.” He leaned closer to her and tugged lightly on her free hand with his free hand, perhaps to echo the water he mentioned in the story, and she gripped it tightly, nearing laughter with every second. “They swam past the cold and stormy seas, their feathers ruffled but unharmed when they reached Inis Glora. The swans had grown tired over their long journey, the years of their lives catching up to slow them down.”

Adam, without thinking, felt a bit of a smile take over his face. He was taken aback by the change in Ronan. The boy sitting on the bed seemed lightyears away from any other version - he’d gone a little hazy at the edges, as though he were made of smoke, as though Adam was dreaming and viewing some kind of apparition. His tailored lines still stuck out jaggedly, cutting a harsh figure, but he seemed at ease and gentle for the first time Adam had ever seen. One hell of a storyteller, too. Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to know why, as the Prince of England, Ronan could let all of those Irish words roll off of his tongue as though they came naturally.

An Irish children’s tale. An Irish children’s tale. Why would he know any of those? The answer nagged at Adam’s brain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to dig.

The girl was quiet as Ronan’s voice trailed off until it became nothing. The swans had returned to elderly humans and lived with a priest who blessed them for the rest of their days, and Adam assumed that she was processing the anticlimactic ending. Finally, she said, “I like those endings best.”

“You do?” Ronan asked, patience yielding in his tone. “Why do you like them?”

“Sad endings are too sad, but happy endings aren’t real.”

Adam could only see the back of Ronan’s head, but he could hear him clear his throat and see him squeeze the girl’s hand in his much larger one. “Me, too.” He leaned away from her a little, letting go of one of her hands. When he spoke again, a smile was in his voice. “You’re much wiser than the adults I know. I might have to offer you a position advising me.”

The girl laughed again, a giddy and wild and hopeful thing. “You’re very silly,” she informed Ronan, likely too young to realize any breaches in etiquette. Luckily for her, Ronan didn’t care, either.

“I am very serious,” he said, his face no doubt translating that sentiment very well. He squeezed her hand again. “I’ll be back with an offer in fifteen or so years, don’t you worry.”

“Is that a promise?”

Ronan stilled at once, the muscles in his back set just as they had been in the kitchen. Adam didn’t envy the situation she’d inadvertently put Ronan into. As childish and silly as her question was, there was a little too much weight to the response for him to casually offer a yes or a no.

“Do your best to get better,” he said at length, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

And, oh, that expression of hope was back shining on her face, and Adam had to shuffle to his other foot, looking away. The people were the reason he liked politics, liked the idea of trying to help build a world even a fraction better than the one he was raised in, and yet he couldn’t look. Couldn’t bear the thought of letting anyone down.

Ronan glanced behind him, clearly catching sight of Adam, just as a nurse bustled into the room and cheerfully announced that it was time for medicine.

“Thank you,” the little girl said before releasing his hand.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ella,” Ronan said with a stiff formality that made her giggle again. “And of course,” he added, a little more softly.

It was perhaps not a polite enough exit for a prince, but after Ronan clumsily thanked the nurse and stepped back into the ward to meet Adam, he knew it was the best they would get. Ronan continued moving past him in the direction Adam assumed the cameras must have gone.

“Ah, so you do have feelings other than anger,” Adam said, trailing Ronan into the hall. 

“Don’t act so fu... completely surprised,” Ronan replied, turning his head towards Adam. At first, he thought Ronan might have been uncomfortable with the idea of Adam seeing the interaction, but instead, his face started to squeeze into something close to a smile, his eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth lifting. A pop from down the hallway shuttered the expression before it could become fully formed. A shout cut through the air just as Persephone appeared between Ronan and Adam as though materializing from thin air. Her impossibly long, white hair clung to the sleeves of their sweaters with static friction as she shoved them with surprising strength into a closet. 

Her voice was still serene and airy despite the sudden tension settling on everyone’s chests. “Wait for the all-clear.” And the door shut with a thunk behind her. 

Adam leaned his head against it with a sigh, before very rapidly remembering that they were two high-profile targets in a possible active shooter scenario and doors weren’t exactly safe. He scrambled backward, accidentally knocking into Ronan and sending them tumbling into the wall. Of all the closets to be unceremoniously shoved into, they had to be stuck in one barely large enough for the brooms stacked to his right. 

“Can you stop falling into me, please?” came Ronan’s voice, taut with something close to fury but probably closer to anxiety.

“But you love it so much,” Adam bit out, trying to backtrack. Ronan’s face had somehow ended up in Adam’s hair, and he could feel Ronan’s long lashes close, paired with a troubled exhale. Adam managed to extract himself from Ronan and slide against one of the walls, crouching beside something he suspected was a bucket. Ronan followed his example, leaning against the opposite wall until he slid to the ground. Adam couldn’t see Ronan very well, but judging from the faint rustling sounds of buzzed hair against cotton and quick, deep breaths, he wasn’t handling the situation very well.

“This is a new one,” Adam said. “Assassination attempts, I mean. Is this common for the royalty?”

“Shut up,” Ronan said, his voice faint from his position closer to the ground.

“I’m blaming you if we die, you know.” When he received no response, Adam continued. “I probably could have made it at least a couple more years. No one’s ever tried to shoot me before. Guess I’m not important enough on my own. Who knew our fake friendship could be so deadly?”

“Fuck off,” Ronan replied, his breaths still deep.

“I’d love to, mate,” Adam said, forcing faux-jolly British inflection into the last word, “But we’re stuck in this closet for the foreseeable future, or until we get shot.”

“I meant shut up before that happens.”

“What, you’re not keen on life-threatening scenarios?” Ronan didn’t respond, and Adam felt a bit of genuine concern leak into his other thoughts. “Are you doing alright? I thought you of all people would be used to this.”

“Not keen on tight spaces,” he grit out, his teeth likely bared in that dangerous way that made Adam’s hands curl into fists. “Now fucking stop for a minute.”

They sat in silence, nothing but their breaths filling the space between them. The silence must have started to grate on Ronan because he broke it first.

“It doesn’t happen all the time, you know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m telling you.” Ronan breathed something that sounded like dumbass. “Once, when I was small and out in public with my father. Declan was there, too. I can’t remember much of it. That’s the only other time.”

“Suppose it’s as good a story as any,” Adam said, his voice just a hint louder than Ronan’s whisper had been. “Glad I can hear it trapped in this minuscule closet with you.”

“You’re the one with the foot digging into my hip, not the other way around.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to put it, Your Highness?” He nudged his foot and Ronan surged forward, clamping a hand around Adam’s mouth and the other clenching in Adam’s collar, practically hovering above where Adam stretched out uncomfortably. Adam much preferred this almost-fighting to their pretending to be friends.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to die today.” Adam tried shifting to free himself, but Ronan had a firm grip and he couldn’t gain any ground. Instead, he licked Ronan’s palm, and Ronan was quick to drop his hand in disgust with a quiet noise of discontent. He found himself pinned with one of Ronan’s glares, the intensity tangible even in the dark.

“I don’t want you to die either, you sodding idiot. I’m not the only one in here. You talking is ruining both of us.” “Clearly you’re not, this might actually be comfortable without you and your ridiculous, showy muscles. But I didn’t realize you cared, sugar,” he said, thinking fleetingly of his mother, “if I was breathing or not.”

“Right now, your life is tied very closely to mine, and so I do.”

“Sweet as honey,” Adam taunted, thickening his drawl. Most of the time he tried to school his words into something a little more Northern, but he enjoyed the way the southern accent bothered Ronan.

“No peace, none at all,” Ronan muttered. “Not even in the looming face of death.”

Adam could have said the same, really. The last thing he expected to see from Ronan while shoved into a dark closet with him was any genuine emotion. But the stories, the fear in the enclosed space, the story of his father-

His father. Of course. 

“Was that story from your father?” He asked, although he already was sure of the answer.

Ronan’s response clipped. “Yes.”

His conscience was still mostly intact, and so Adam began to feel a little bad for picking a fight while in a stressful situation and then bringing up Ronan’s grief. “You’re a good storyteller.” Ronan’s silence was judgemental and disbelieving, so he persisted. “What, I can’t give a compliment? You are.” 

“My siblings and I had stories read to us like everyone else, Parrish. We’re not programmed, bland colonialism robots.” A pause. “Well, Mathew and I aren’t.”

“Of course not, imperialism comes first.”

“You’re welcome for the country, then.”

A brief silence followed. It felt, inexplicably, like the two of them had been toeing a line ever since Adam stood outside of Ella’s door and heard Ronan speak to her. They were inching closer with every word spoken.

“My father was the real storyteller,” he admitted, and Adam internally marked another inch traveled. “Since he was an actor and all. He always told us those stories even though he wasn’t technically supposed to. I just...imitate.”

“Imitate?”

“Yes,” Ronan said, providing no other explanation. “Why do you give a damn, anyway? You don’t want childhood tales and neither do I. You hate me.”

“We’re stuck like this forever,” Adam admitted. He’d known it before, but speaking the words made them feel more real. “Neither of us likes it, but here we are, shoved in a closet together. We have to pull off this act for the rest of our lives, Ronan, and I need something more than a cheat sheet your PR team slapped together.”

Ronan was eerily still for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Then why do you hate me?”

The question caught Adam off guard. “What?”

“Why do you hate me?” Off of Adam’s wary look, he threw the words back in his face. “We’re stuck together just like you said. I need some kind of answer.”

Adam sighed, acquiescing. “Do you remember what you said in Rio?”

“The fuck are you talking about, Parrish?”

“The Olympics?”

“When you threatened to push me into the River Thames?”

“No. You being a condescending dick at diving finals.”

Ronan was still for a long moment before bringing a hand to his shoulder and easing himself back away and off of Adam. “Oh. Shit.”

“So. You remember?”

“Vaguely.” A pause, elongated in the dark. “You heard?”

“Yes.” 

“So that did it, then?”

“Yes.”

But Ronan must have known he had more to say because he stayed silent. 

“I probably would have hated you no matter what,” Adam finally admitted, some low part of his gut feeling heavier with the admission. “It’s just - I wasn’t even the First Son then, and everyone was already comparing us. And it didn’t matter if they thought I was better or you were better or whatever, it was just - the idea of you bothered me, a white boy born with the power to make such change and unquestioning support from millions who was throwing it all away instead. And I’ve been compared to a shit ton of people in my life, from my mother to Blue and Gansey to just - everyone, but somehow with you, it was always the worst. So yes, it was the diving finals.”

“But it was also you being self-conscious?”

“But it was also you being an asshole.” 

“Yeah, it was,” Ronan admitted lowly, and Adam blinked at the admission. “I was - I definitely was one. I think I was one all the fucking time back then. It doesn’t excuse anything, but my father passed on...not long before, if you can understand.”

Adam didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, but he nodded all the same. He felt something in his throat tighten. “Of course. I don’t think I’d realized.”

“It doesn’t excuse it,” Ronan repeated. “I’m sorry.”

This was something heavier, truer than his other apologies - something beyond deeply-ingrained politeness that allowed him to apologize for petty things. It was as though he genuinely asked for forgiveness, like Adam had any real choice in the matter, like Adam’s forgiveness was something Ronan actually wanted. Adam never expected to receive a genuine apology from the Prince of England.

“I appreciate it. And I’m sorry as well. For...not realizing.” Ronan’s figure visibly relaxed even though it was barely visible.

“So, depressing Irish stories. Is that your default?”

“I’m afraid the Irish don’t have a lot of serotonin-filled stories.”

“There’s the English in you,” Adam said to a breathy laugh from Ronan. “Do you remember any more?”

“Probably couldn’t forget them, if we’re being honest. And not speaking to the press.”

“They hate me at the moment, so you have nothing to worry about.” He paused before he continued. “Would you tell one?”

“...why?”

“I don’t know. We’re stuck in here, aren’t we?”

“Be careful what you wish for. I’ll write you in as a Celtic witch.”

“I always thought I’d make a very dashing villainous magician. If that’s the price to pay, I can live with it.”

Ronan was silent, and Adam thought that he had given up on any conversation. However, he spoke again, his voice oddly light. “Once, the fierce Fianna believed in many things, none as much as the beautiful Eden laying in the Western Sea. Tir na nÒg, it was called, and the name passed between them like a secret.” Suddenly breaking character, Ronan said in his normal whisper, “That means “land of the living” for any uneducated parties.”

“Dick. Go on.”

There was something captivating in this new way Ronan spoke paired with the near-darkness and tight space of their closet. “Fionn, the leader of the Fianna-”

“Great naming process, by the way.”

“Shut the hell up or no story.”

Adam shut up.

“The leader of the Fianna led them to hunt the deer along the shores in County Kerry, including his son, Oisín. But Oisín soon caught sight of a single, bright light in the distance, all the way through the thick green of tree foliage. As it drew closer, he saw that the light was, instead, a beautiful girl with hair of spun gold astride a snow-colored mare. When Fionn inquired as to who she was, she informed them that she was Niamh of the Golden Hair, daughter of the King of  Tir na nÒg, and she had come to take Oisín as her husband-”

Ronan cut off abruptly, and Adam almost asked why, but a moment later he heard the source of the silence - heavy footsteps outside the door. Suddenly, neither of them breathed, instead choosing to sit in total petrified silence.

And slowly, mercifully, the door crept open, spilling cold white light along the floor of the cupboard and across their splayed legs. Persephone stood in the doorway, her expression relaxed once again.

“False alarm,” she said breezily, reaching out her hands to haul them back to their feet. Adam shifted uncomfortably on pins and needles as his legs shot back to life. “Fireworks, not guns.”

“Fireworks in a hospital?”

Persephone shrugged. “It was some teenager.”

“Always is,” Ronan said, dangerously close to a joke. He blinked rapidly, setting his shoulders back to stand at his full height. He slanted a look towards Adam, his mouth curving into something wicked but not intimidating, all bark and no bite. “Bonding is over, then.”

“Thank God.”

#trc #the raven cycle #pynch #adam parrish #ronan lynch #persephone poldma #blue sargent #gansey #richard gansey #rwrb #rwrb au #rwarb #red white and royal blue #rw&rb #trc rwrb au #mine #wips #my wips #the raven boys #the dream thieves #blue lily lily blue #the raven king

[robinrunsfiction]

Consider..Demon!Gerard (he’s such a sweetheart,,calls herbsugar,,darling-also super shady tho)finds the reader dying (mugged maybe?)And brings her back to life(the afterlife??)she lives with him now because thats what happens when a demon saves u ig?Anyways theyre kinda falling in love,,she falls asleep on him on the couch one night,,the next night what do u know things happen and things are said and they end up making out in their underwear in her room,, suuper fluffy,, they fall asleep

Have You Heard the News That You’re Dead?

Pairing: Demon!Gerard Way x Female ReaderRating: TeenRequested By: AnonWord Count: ~2,400Author’s Note: Hi, my name is Robin and I am physically incapable of writing a short story, but this is super super late so I hope that makes up for it! I use the prompt “Everyone has a guardian angel except you. You have a guardian demon. He deals with things in a much more violent fashion, but much more effective.” from @writing-prompt-s as my guide for this one. Also TW: for mentions of death, but if you didn’t get that from the ask, I can’t help you.

You always knew you were different. You could tell the vibe you gave off wasdifferent of that of everyone else. Dogs growled or ran away when you walkeddown the street. Old ladies would clutch their pearls. If it hadn’t been likethat for as long as you could remember, it would be alarming to say the least.What you weren’t aware of was the fact that most people had a guardian angellooking out for them, and you had a guardian demon.

That’s not to say it made you a bad person, you just had a different way of moving through life. Sure trouble found you more often than others, but you were still having a hell of a good time. That is until the night you stumbled alone out of that bar in a drunken stupor. You’d be fine you reasoned. You were always fine. Until that guy with a knife appeared and you didn’t have any money left to give him and that answer angered him, and then you were bleeding on the ground.

The last thing you saw was a man with black eyes and black hair and a pale face running up, muttering obscenities under his breath, clearly panicked. All youcould wonder was why there was no one to look out for you at that moment.

~

You woke up in a bed that wasn’t familiar in a room you’d never seen. You sat upand saw your shirt still had the hole from where you’d been stabbed, but yourskin was unbroken underneath. You had been certain you were dying on that street. Was this some kind of weird hospital? Had you been in a coma for years? What was going on?

You got out of the bed and moved quietly toward the door. As you wandered down the dark hallway, you could hear music playing. Following the sound, you found yourself in a living room, where someone, a man with black hair, sat with his back to you.

“‘Scuse me,” you started and he turned to look at you with those same black eyes you saw when you were on the street. “What the fuck?” you gasped asyou backed away. “Where am I? Where did you take me?” You demanded.

He sat down the book he was reading and strode over to you. “My name isGerard. I’m your guardian demon and for the sake of honesty, its my fault you’redead.”

“I’m dead?!” You shrieked. “Demon? Am I in hell?!”

“Not exactly. You’re at my place, which dimensionally speaking, is earth-adjacent… on the hell side. Come sit down, I’ll explain everything.”

“No! I wanna go home!”

Gerard winced. “That’s the thing sugar, this is your home now.”

Gerard had to rush to help you sit down, as your legs seemingly were not working at the moment and you looked like you were about to collapse.

“You see,” he started once you were seated, “most of you humans have guardian angels. A few of you lucky ones get us, guardian demons.”

“How is that lucky? I’m doomed to hell before I even get a crack at life?” Youargued.

“Oh you aren’t doomed, you’re destined to become a demon as well. Knowing you guarding another luck human soul until its time they join our ranks.”

“Then what am I doing here?”

“You weren’t supposed to be dead yet. I fucked up.”

“Shocker.”

Gerard descended upon you, his face inches from yours. “Oh sugar, didn’t I dowell for the last however many years? Didn’t you have a life anyone could wishfor?”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just swallowed thickly.

“I thought so,” he said righting himself. “Besides, my duty to you is not relieved now that you are deceased. We need to keep you hidden here so management doesn’t know that I-”

“Fucked up and let me die.”

Gerard glared down at you. “Exactly. But don’t worry sugar, I intend to keeptaking the best care of you. I promise you that.”

Despite Gerard’s explanation of events you still weren’t totally convinced he wasn’t full of shit. That was until he left you alone in the living area for a whileand you snuck over to the window to look out.

His apartment was a couple stories up on a busy street. But instead of the usualbustle of cars and people there were what could only be described as creatures.

Sure some of them, like Gerard, looked human, save for the black eyes, or horns sticking out of their hair. Some looked like something you’d read about in ahorror novel. You watched wide eyed as they passed along the sidewalk belowyou, going about their demonic business.

“Believe me now?” Gerard asked, startling you away from the window.

“Sure,” you said sitting down again. It was all too much to take. “But what am Igonna until my destined death day?”

“Think of it as if its one of those days you called out sick from work so you couldsit and watch hours of TV.”

“I’m doomed to watch Judge Judy and Maury forever?! I mean one day is fine, but for eternity?!”

“No, anything you want to watch, read, listen to, its all at your disposal,” heexplained.

“Will I need to do live human stuff like… eat or sleep again?”

“Totally optional,” he said. “Just like all other carnal needs.”

You just rolled your eyes and went to examine the bookshelf. Not surprisingly itwas filled with books on the occult, as well as a lot on history, art and music.

“’Bout what I expected,” you said running your fingers over the spines of thebooks, “for a demon.” When you glanced up Gerard was watching youintently and it made you shiver involuntarily.

“Help yourself to any of them. I have to go meet up with some associates. Don’tanswer the door if anyone comes around, remember, you’re alive.”

You just rolled your eyes as you pulled a book off the shelf and sat down to read.

~

You had no idea how long had passed, time being more of a human construct it would appear by the lack of clocks in the apartment. Or maybe they weren’t andGerard’s lack of time management was the cause of your current, or ratherpermanent, state of being.

Eventually you got up and watched the demons on the street for a while, then wandered through the rest of the apartment. Who knew Demons would be so sensible as to have guest bedrooms? The closet will full of clothes that seemed to be similar to the style you like while you were alive. You changed out of the shirt you died in, a thought that made you shudder, and into one that was less holey.

Moving on you noted there was no bathroom, but that made sense given what he had said about things that were “optional”. The kitchen was impressivelystocked with rich foods and fancy wines and liquors. Maybe Gerard liked toentertain? Well he wasn’t doing that impressive of a job of it right now youthought as you found yourself getting bored.

As if on cue, Gerard burst through the door. “Miss me sugar?” He askedas he breezed into the kitchen where you were still standing, feeling slightlyguilty, like you were somewhere you shouldn’t have been.

“Not really,” you mumbled.

“Oh come on sugar,” he said slinking up to you and grazing your cheek with hisfingers, “is that anyway to talk to your roommate?”

You made a disgusted noise and rolled your eyes before pushing past him.

“This is gonna be a fucking long eternity,” he muttered under his breath.

~

The thing you most enjoyed about not being alive was similar to your favorite part of being alive: sleeping. You would sleep as long as you wanted without any repercussions or judgement from others. Gerard certainly didn’t mind, as this left more time for him to do whatever he wanted since he no longer had to watch over you so closely.

Soon though he realized he missed it. He was fond of you, as he had to be based on the nature of the work, but he always enjoyed making trouble for the people who pissed you off during the day. Now he watched as a dark cloud started to gather over your waking hours, the shelves of books and movies and music no longer drawing your interest like it used to. One evening he walked into the living room to find you staring blankly at the wall.

“Novelty of it has worn off, hasn’t it?” He asked.

“Yea, and the permanence is setting in,” you sighed.

Gerard sat down next to you. “I am truly sorry. You probably don’t believe me,but its true.”

“What happened that night?” You asked as you let your head fall against hisshoulder and he moved his arm so it was around you.

“Remember that guy that was bothering you at the bar earlier in the night?”

“Yea…”

“I scared him off, that’s why he left you alone. He found someone else and theywere gonna hook up in the bathroom and I made sure that the whiskey he wasdrinking lived up to its reputation.”

You chuckled at the thought of the douche who had been talking such big game all night not being able to perform.

“I got carried away, but I’ve always hated guys like that,” Gerard admitted.“There really is a special place in hell for them.”

“Good,” you said, as you settled into him even more. A small smile tugged at his lips. “What else did you do for me?”

Gerard reclined to get more comfortable as he launched into his favorite stories of when he dealt out cosmic retribution on your behalf.

“You’re evil, but like, good evil,” you hummed as you slid down so you were laying against his chest. His arms wrapped around you protectively.

The next thing you knew you were being awakened by a hammering at the door. You both sat bolt upright and looked at each other.

“Gerard, you home?” a voice called from the other side.

“Go hide in your room,” he whispered and you hurried off and Gerard went to thedoor.

“Frank, what’s going on?” Gerard asked coolly.

“You got a hot little succubus in there?” Frank asked trying to look past Gerard.

“What’s going on Frank?” Gerard asked again, sounding more exasperated.

“Management is starting to ask about your human. No one has seen her in a while. You still keeping track of her?”

“Of course,” Gerard lied easily. “She’s just been dealing with some shit, so she’sbeen laying low.”

Frank nodded skeptically. “Just looking out for you. I’d hate to have you get fired,that would mean more work for me,” he laughed. “Besides, you know what happens when you get fired.”

Gerard nodded, trying not to let the nerves show. He remembered the last time another demon got fired. He couldn’t sleep for weeks it shook him so bad.

“Alright, I’ll leave you be, I know you got someone in there,” Frank smirked as he left.

Gerard went back to your room and found you hiding in the closet. “You’re good.”

“What’s going on?” You asked getting up.

“I’m gonna have to go topside and act like you’re still alive, or else I’m as deadas you.”

“Demons can die?”

“Not exactly the same, but it sure as shit ain’t pretty when it happens,” Gerard muttered.

“I wish I could help.”

“Not your fault, sugar,” he said as he headed back toward the front door. “I gottaclean up my mess for a while.”

“When will you be back?”

“You’ll barely know I’m gone,” he winked.

You spent what felt like forever sitting around, bored and lonely and thinking.Thinking for hours about what Gerard was risking keeping you here, and everything he had done for you your whole life. When the door finally opened again, you jumped up excitedly.

“Hey sugar,” he greeted you with a smile.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yea, we’re good for a while,” he said shrugging off his jacket. “I don’t thinkanyone will be asking questions anytime soon.”

“Good,” you said as you walked up to him and wrapped him in a hug.

Gerard stiffened momentarily, surprised by the affection, but then softened andwrapped his arms around you as well. “You decided you like me then?”

“Maybe it’s just Stockholm Syndrome, but yea, I think I do kinda like you after all. I have really did have the time of my life when I was alive, and I know you’re tothank for a lot of that,” you said before leaning up and placing a kiss on hischeek.

When you pulled back, he was looking down at you fondly. He reached up and ran his fingers along your jaw and leaned in and kissed you deeply. His lips tasted like coffee and red hots, as his arms wrapped around you and held you closer to him. You ran your hands through his dark hair and allowed his tongue to slip in against yours.

You pulled back and Gerard looked at you in confusion until you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him along back to the bedroom. He started to undo the buttons of his shirt as you peeled yours off as well. You pulled Gerard back to you again and your lips met as you tumbled against the bed. Gerard held himself over you as he undid his pants, and you slipped out of yours as well. Clad only in your respective undergarments, you continued your heated make out session, tongues moving together, hands roaming over bare skin, marks left upon necks. After what could have been 10 minutes, or maybe a decade, Gerard pulled back and looked down at you “(YN), I’ve never felt like this before,” he whispered.

“What, demons don’t do emotions?”

“Yea, but not usually love.”

You looked up at him and grinned. “Yea, I think I’d like to spend eternity here with you.”

Gerard grinned and rolled over to your side. You curled against him as he wrapped his arms around you and you both fell asleep peacefully.

#Anon #gerard way x reader #gerard way fan fic #gerard way fan fiction #gerard way imagine #my chemical romance fan fic #my chemical romance fan fiction #demon!gerard way #demon gerard way x reader

[taexual]

GOT7 / Their S/O defends them

Request by @babyfairyjongin: Okay, so, could you please write something for BTS and GOT7 where you're out and about with them, and either some fans (or some random people. Your pick) start to get violent with the boys so you kick their asses?

BTS version is here

Warning: strong language & violence

Mark

What Mark usually did in situations that involved people who were clearly not in their right minds, is walk away. No matter how many people blocked his path, he’d continue to attempt to put some distance between them before their expressions of love turned even more violent.

Usually, you shared this attitude with him and thought that walking away was the smart thing to do because the people who screamed at him and attempted to touch him didn’t look safe to be around for too long. But then, when you and Mark were making your way out of a restaurant, someone threw a plastic water bottle right into his head, as a scream, “Fuck you, Mark!” followed.

Stopping for a moment – more because of the shock than the pain – Mark turned to look at you as if to check if you were okay, even though he was the one injured. You couldn’t believe it. Not Mark’s selflessness, that you knew about. You were shocked to realize that people were willing to go these lengths to prove their hatred to someone.

“Who threw that?!” you called out to the crowd of people. The ones closest to you took a few tentative steps back. “If you think it’s okay to throw things at people – not just any things, but things that can seriously injure them – I have news for you, buddy.”

“What are you going to do, bitch?” sounded somewhere in the crowd. You weren’t sure if it was the same person, but perhaps, if it wasn’t, that was even better.

You shouldn’t be directing your anger at just one person because who knew how many more people would dare to literally throw things at your boyfriend.

“Y/n, let’s just go,” Mark said with a sigh but you saw his hand instinctively reach for the spot where the water bottle had hit him.

You looked down at the plastic bottle on the pavement next to Mark and picked it up, elated to find a white piece of paper attached to it. A piece of paper that looked a lot like a letter. A death threat, most likely.

“There are far easier ways to give people letters,” you called out to the crowd again. “In fact, maybe you should have chosen an easier way if you wanted the letter to reach its recipient.”

And then – not meaning for the action to be as dramatic as it probably was – you unattached the letter from the water bottle and ripped it into pieces, while the crowd gathered around you watched.

You glared at no one in particular, trying to find the person who dared to do this, but instead, you were met with supportive faces of Mark’s fans. That is, before Mark dragged you away from them, too.

“I can’t even begin to describe how badass that was,” Mark said to you, once the two of you were driving away from the restaurant. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“It’s me who’s lucky,” you replied, sighing as the adrenaline started to wear off. “Let’s stop by the hospital, okay? I need to know you’re not seriously injured.”

JB

Jaebum was fine at first. You could tell he was starting to become irritated, but he managed to play it off because his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, and a smile never left his face. Truth was, no one liked to be in a crowd of people who seemed to be moving to get closer to you. Especially not Jaebum. He needed his space and he could tell that you didn’t enjoy being in this situation, either.

You could see multiple people stop in front him, their phones extended, asking for a picture. It was hard to stop in the crowd of people and Jaebum gave them all apologetic smiles. If he stopped in front of one fan, he’d have to stop in front of them all. Otherwise, it’s just not fair. And, anyway, it was literally dangerous to stop walking. If it wasn’t him who’d get trampled, it could be one of the fans in the crowd.

“You’re a huge dick, I don’t know why I became a fan,” one voice called out. You felt Jaebum freeze for a moment and turn around to the source of the voice. “So, your girlfriend is more important to you than your fanbase? That’s just fucking rude. All I wanted was a picture. You didn’t have to walk past me like I just don’t exist.”

Jaebum looked confused. How was he supposed to give his attention to all of the people around him?

“I’m sorry,” he said, still unsure which person was speaking to him. “I must have not noticed you. There are so many people, I’m incapable of stopping to say hi to each and every single one. I’m sorry about that, too.”

“Sure you do,” the same voice continued. “We give you our unconditional love and you treat us like shit. Well, guess fucking what? I’m done here. Fuck you.”

Jaebum looked even more confused right now. He couldn’t see what he had done wrong, and frankly, neither could you.

“Unconditional love?” you called out to the person, who was talking before, even though you couldn’t see them. “You’re mobbing him. He can’t breathe here and yet he’s the one apologizing. I don’t know what you think this is, but I can assure you, that’s not love.”

“All I wanted was a fucking picture,” the voice replied. “It takes, like, five seconds to take one. Is that too much to ask?”

“It’s five seconds to take a picture with you. Five seconds to take a picture with the next person. Five more seconds with the person next to them. Look around you,” you said. “You’re not the only one here. If he stops, he’ll be pushed around and literally torn to pieces by this crowd. Or worse, someone in the crowd will be the one injured. He’s not just looking out for himself. He’s looking out for you, too. It sucks that you can’t see that and I’m sorry you deal with that by getting angry.”

The person didn’t say anything else and you turned to look at Jaebum, who was watching you – well, probably. The sunglasses hid his eyes – and extending a hand to touch you. It worked like a charm. As soon as he grabbed your hand into his, the people in front of him, moved away, giving both of you some space to walk away.

“Look at you,” Jaebum said quietly as the two of you headed towards the exit without feeling hot breaths of other people on your necks. “Your words can make magic happen.”

Jackson

Jackson hated making it into tabloid magazines with negative headlines. And yet, it seemed as though, he just exited his house with you – not doing anything else, not even holding your hand – and he was suddenly the enemy of the nation.

As soon as the two of you got home from a date night, every single social media you had was spammed with various links to many different websites that labeled Jackson as a heartbreaker. Every comment was hateful. Surprisingly, not hateful towards you, but towards him.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” Jackson entered the bedroom where you sat cross-legged on the bed, your laptop in front of you. He was reading something on his phone. “He’s not even that famous to be doing PR yet. And why would he want a girlfriend anyway? Didn’t he say he was too busy? Clearly, all the projects ended, so now he’s bored.”

“What are you—”

“I fucking hate him for doing this,” Jackson continued and you realized he was reading comments on one of the websites that shared pictures of you two together. “I thought he loved us, but clearly not. He’s a huge asshole who doesn’t deserve his fans. I’m really disappointed in him.”

Jumping off the bed, you grabbed his phone from his hands right as he was opening his mouth to read another comment. “Give me that.”

You started typing something on his phone, not letting him see what.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” he asked, trying to look at it over your shoulder, but you walked to a different part of the room, starting a wild chase. “Don’t write anything! You’ll just add more fuel to the fire.”

Staying quiet, you finished the comment, posted it, and handed the phone back to him. Sighing, Jackson looked at the newest comment posted.

“If your love for him is defined by his relationship status, maybe it’s great that you don’t think you’re a fan anymore. Real fans are those who support him. Those who listen to his music. Those who genuinely wish him luck. You’re disappointed because he’s in a relationship? Would you be disappointed if he was in a relationship with you? I think I know the answer to that. Don’t forget that he’s not just meat you can admire and hate on whenever you seem fit. He’s human. Just like you.”

You saw Jackson raise his head when he finished reading it. “You posted it on anonymous, though.”

“I know,” you said. “Their comments were anonymous, too. Why shouldn’t mine be?”

Instead of saying anything else, Jackson walked to the bed where you were sitting again and waited until you turned around to look at him before placing a kiss on your lips. The kiss, although unexpected, managed to take your breath away and tell you everything that he couldn’t put into words.

Jinyoung

A lot of things happened when Jinyoung was out and about. Sometimes people stopped him on the street and asked for his autograph. He always tried to stop, talk to them, and sign whatever they wanted him to sign. Other times, a lot of people stopped him on the street. And yet, he still tried to stop and talk to all of them, not realizing that it was close to impossible.

He probably should have realized that his love to his fans would be taken for granted, and soon, things would start to get out of hand.

He could handle large crowds. He knew you didn’t like them, but his calm face as he walked through a crowd of people helped you calm down, too. He held a protective hand on your waist, making sure that you were never too far from him. You kept your eyes down when you walked, not daring to look up in case you’d trip over your feet.

The fact that you weren’t looking ahead was exactly the reason why you didn’t see a person literally throw themselves at Jinyoung. Like, they jumped up from somewhere in the crowd and attached themselves to him, wrapping their arms around his neck, and their legs around his waist, nearly knocking him down and forcing him to release his grip on you in shock.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as Jinyoung awkwardly staggered, somehow managing to untangle the person’s legs from him and force them to climb down from him.

“What—I’m—” your boyfriend tried to find words but he had no idea where to begin as the person in front of him was now laughing.

“I was this close to kissing you!” they shouted, excitement evident in their voice.

“Why the hell would you think that’s okay?!” you asked, not realizing how horrified your voice sounded. “Has no one ever taught you anything? You don’t kiss strangers! You don’t jump on strangers, either!”

“He’s not a stranger, I know everything about him!” the person insisted.

You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of their mouth. “Does he know anything about you? Maybe introduce yourself first? Don’t just selfishly hang yourself over his neck! Not only could you have hurt yourself, but you also scared the hell out of him!”

“What the fuck? I didn’t do anything wrong,” they continued as if not having heard anything you’ve just said. “I was just going to kiss him, where’s the crime in that?”

“You literally forced yourself on him,” you informed them. “There’s your crime. You don’t have to look very far for it. I can assure you, if that happens again, we’ll be having this conversation with you behind bars. I honestly wish you good luck in life but if you want to live a long happy life, think twice before doing something. Or better yet, consult someone.”

You and Jinyoung walked around the person, while they stood a little taken aback by your words. Once you were far enough from everyone, you heard Jinyoung exhale.

“Damn,” he said, giving you a small smile. “The way you handled that…”

“Oh, it was nothing,” you said. “I was ready to pull them down by their hair but I thought it’d be a bit too much for this time.”

Youngjae

He never fully understood the point of hate online. Or hate in general, to be honest. It really got to him at first, but after a while, he decided that the best way to deal with it was to just ignore it. Sometimes, though, the hate was impossible to ignore. Especially when it was right in his face.

Someone had gotten ahold of his phone number and now Youngjae suffered from endless phone calls – usually in the middle of the night – from an unknown number. Whenever he’d answer, he’d hear either screams or sometimes curses, as if the person on the other end never made up their mind about whether they should support him or despise him.

Finally, after a week of this incessant behavior, Youngjae decided to change his phone number.

“Before you do that,” you told him. “Can I pick that call up? Because I know they’ll call you again tonight.”

Not having anything to lose, Youngjae shrugged his shoulders, handing his phone to you. “Sure.”

Surely enough, the phone started to ring again at midnight. Youngjae had put the X emoji as the ID, so you immediately understood who the caller was and answered right away.

“Yes?” you said.

Silence on the other end seemed somehow unsettling. Youngjae had told you the person started to talk as soon as they heard his voice.

“W-who is this?” someone asked.

You were surprised to hear confusion on the other end of the line. “The real question is who are you and why do you keep calling this number.”

“To talk to Youngjae,” the person answered, a little more confidently now. “He’s my friend.”

“Oh, your friend,” you repeated. “Do you always call your friends in the middle of the night? Do you always scream at them when you do? Do you cuss them out only to tell them you love them the next day? Is that the kind of behavior you show to your friends?”

Silence again. The person was clearly gathering their thoughts.

“You can go fuck yourself,” they said finally. “All I wanted was to just talk to Youngjae. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You harassed him,” you informed them. “And, on top of that, you invaded his personal space. He would have loved to talk to you if you had chosen to use acceptable forms of communication that didn’t include getting ahold of people’s phone numbers and taunting them every night. That’s childish and rude.”

Silence yet again. This time, though, they didn’t start talking for a long while.

“Don’t call this number again,” you decided to continue. “And let’s leave all of this behind. Okay?”

“Fine,” a quiet voice responded and you hung up the phone, exhaling deeply.

Youngjae kept this phone number out of curiosity. He used his new one, but put the old SIM card into an older phone, just to check if the person would call again. They didn’t. You had no idea whether that surprised you or not, but from now on, whenever an unknown number called Youngjae, he hollered for you.

BamBam

BamBam was the silent type of angry. When something pissed him off, he didn’t voice it, he just sulked until someone noticed and then he ignored them on purpose. He knew it was petty, but that was his way of dealing with the problem. If something provoked him hard enough, he might explode, but most of the time, he was quiet.

The case with hate was similar. When receiving it, BamBam suffered in silence. You could tell he was annoyed by something because he was slamming the doors of the cupboards in the kitchen extremely loud but you also knew he wouldn’t say what it was.

As you found out from Jaebum – who wouldn’t have called you if he hadn’t noticed the changes in BamBam’s behavior – there was someone outside of their building, who harassed BamBam every day. Security talked to the person, but they found different ways to get ahold of BamBam and continue to attempt to push him over the edge.

One day, seemingly with no ulterior motives, you offered to go out for dinner right after BamBam finished working. Not thinking twice about it, he agreed to you arriving at his building so he wouldn’t have to drive home after work.

While you waited for BamBam, no people approached you. You didn’t notice anyone suspicious, either. However, as soon as your boyfriend came out of the building and smiled at the sight of you, the two of you could hear whistling.

“Look at that,” someone said. “You’re not as much of a loser as I thought. Found yourself a nice girl and all.”

“Who’s that?” you asked BamBam, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear him say it so you could start working on this problem.

“No one,” BamBam replied, however. “Ignore it.”

“Have you thought about what I said?” the person continued to shout at him, even if BamBam was pushing you away. “You don’t belong in a K-Pop group. You’re not even Korean. And you can’t even sing! Don’t get me started on your rapping. My dog could do it better. Get lost, you pathetic excuse for a rapper. You owe us that!”

You glanced at BamBam and noticed his mood turning sour in an instant. And suddenly, your mouth reacted before your brain did.

“What exactly does he owe you?” you called out to the person, surprising them. “Because I’m pretty sure he has a successful career all thanks to himself. No one helped him get here. Not you, especially. So, let me ask you again, what the hell could he possibly owe you?”

“He’s not even Korean,” the person repeated, not even trying to conceal their nationalistic attitude.

“Oh, so you have a problem with the fact that a person who wasn’t born in Korea is helping to make Korea known everywhere in the world with his music?” you asked, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Music that is – by the way – Korean? I’m not sure if you really love your country as much as you think you do if you’re trying to rid it of its one of the most popular groups.”

“I’m not trying to get rid of a group,” the person continued. “I’m trying to get rid of that punk!”

“That punk is a part of the group,” you countered. “You get rid of him, you get rid of the whole group. So, I suggest you go home, make yourself a nice cup of tea – hopefully burn yourself a little in the process – and then Google some better insults. Yours are pathetic and repetitive. Oh! And if you still struggle to find what to hate on – sign a petition. Try to change the world for the better. Be useful for once in your life.”

You finally allowed BamBam to pull you away from the person because it didn’t look like they were going to reply.

“You know,” your boyfriend said, once the two of you were in the restaurant. “That person’s been bothering me for weeks now. And I never knew that all I had to do is just call my girlfriend for help. I still don’t know how you found what to say to him. I mean, Jaebum tried to chase him off with a broom. It didn’t work. You’re something else, Y/n.”

Yugyeom

Yugyeom never had the courage to admit that he didn’t like what was happening whenever people stepped over the line when he was out. He endured whatever they did, as long as they focused their attention on him and not you. However, you were slowly losing patience.

You watched through clenched teeth as someone grabbed Yugyeom’s collar, probably attempting to rip his clothes off of him. You didn’t say anything, and neither did Yugyeom, though he was visibly uncomfortable.

However, when someone grabbed his hand and pulled so hard, they nearly ripped his limb off, you stopped walking and turned to look at the person holding his hand and still pulling him into the crowd of people that have gathered outside of the restaurant where you and Yugyeom had had dinner.

“Let go,” you said, looking the person right in the eye. “Let go of his hand right now.”

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do!” the person spat, reminding you in that moment of a rabid dog. “I’ve been waiting for him to come out of that restaurant for ages. I have every right to take him with me.”

“You have every right to—he’s a human being!” you couldn’t fathom their logic. “You do not have any right to possess a human being!”

“Yugyeom!” the person shrieked. “Come with me!”

They pulled his hand again, dragging him towards the crowd no matter how hard he resisted. Helplessly, Yugyeom threw you a look, unsure if he should say something because anxiety was slowly overcoming his common sense.

“If you don’t release him, I’m calling 911,” you said, not concealing your frustration. This got them to stop, but you could see their tight grip on Yugyeom’s hand.

“Why the hell are you freaking out?” the person called out. “He’s blushing! He’s clearly flustered! He wants to come with me!”

“He’s blushing because you’re causing a scene in front of all of these people! He’s blushing because he’s uncomfortable and he doesn’t know what to do,” you shot back. “Let go of him before I get you arrested.”

Groaning loudly and dramatically, the person let go of Yugyeom’s hand. “Fuck you, bitch.”

“And get the hell away from him,” you added, feeling Yugyeom move both of his hands around your arm as he inhaled deeply. “I swear to God, if you come anywhere close to him, I’ll file a restraining order against you.”

The two of you walked away, not waiting to hear if the person would reply anything to that. You could hear Yugyeom hyperventilate, but you waited until the two of you were left alone before you asked him if he’s okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied. “Today was just… a lot. But the things you said out there? I’m so grateful to you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. Thank you so much.”

other GOT7 reactions / masterlist / ask (requests are closed)

#got7 #got7 angst #got7 reactions #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop #got7 mark #mark tuan #got7 jb #im jaebum #got7 jackson #jackson wang #got7 jinyoung #park jinyoung #got7 youngjae #choi youngjae #got7 bambam #bambam #got7 yugyeom #kim yugyeom #writing

[imaginetonyandbucky]

A/B/O Au. Bucky is an army sniper who has a whirlwind romance with Tony. While on leave he introduces Tony to his Army buds, who do not take kindly to Tony because they think he's using Bucky for good PR. So before Bucky goes back on tour they break up. Fast Forward 3years Bucky wandering aimlessly through towns (without an arm) bumps into Tony whose got a young boy that oddly resembles Bucky when he was younger. ANGST please.

The Long Way Round - Part I of IV

[Part II] | [Part III] | [Part IV]

2013

When Bucky’s finally fought his way back through the crowded pub and slides into their booth, he immediately notices how the mood has turned sour. It’s subtle, but Bucky’s known these guys for years, and something’s definitely up.

Jacques and Gabe have their heads bent together, and are talking in quiet, hissed French, turned away from the rest of the group. Morita’s resting bitch face has reached an entirely new level, Monty is typing away on his phone, and even Dum Dum, although still trying to keep up the conversation, is much less buoyant and blustering than usual. And then there’s Tony, shoulders hunched and shrunk in on himself, eyes fixed on a spot on the table as he worries his bottom lip.

“Hey,” Bucky whispers, and bumps their knees together, frowning when Tony startles, and pulls his leg away. “Everythin’ all right? Did somethin’ happen while I was gone?”

Tony shakes his head, the movement a little jerky. “It’s nothing,” he says, flat. It’s clearly a lie, but before Bucky can call him out on it, he adds, “Just not feeling it tonight. I might turn in early, actually, if that’s okay?”

“‘Course, yeah,” Bucky says, reaching for his jacket. “Walk you home?”

For a moment, it looks like Tony’s going to say no. But then he swallows, hard, and nods, even smiles a little in thanks when Bucky helps him into his coat, and leans into Bucky’s side, albeit somewhat stiffly, when Bucky curls an arm around him.

“Breakfast tomorrow before we gotta catch our plane?” Bucky asks the rest of the table, getting nods and a few murmured confirmations in return. None of them tease or rib him for leaving after just one beer, and Bucky squints at them for a moment, suspicious, before he shrugs, and leads Tony out onto the street.

(Watch out for the break, mobile readers!)

They walk in not entirely comfortable silence after Tony keeps blocking Bucky’s attempts at talking with short, one-word answers, clearly distracted by something. It’s not until they get to Tony’s apartment complex that Tony finally looks at Bucky again, his mouth downturned as he places a firm hand on Bucky’s chest when Bucky goes to follow him into the lobby.

“What? Not gonna invite me up for coffee?” Bucky asks, trying for joking in hopes of cheering Tony up. The flirty smile begins to slide off his face, though, when Tony shakes his head, opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Hey, no. C’mon, sweetheart, talk to me? What’s wrong?”

He goes to touch Tony’s cheek, eyes widening and hand hovering awkwardly in the air between them when Tony takes a step back. “Tony?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore,” Tony blurts out in a rush. “It’s—I think it’s for the best. If we stop.”

It takes a moment for the meaning of the words to register, but when it does, Bucky turns cold, stomach sinking. “Are—are you breakin’ up with me? Tony—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tony hurries to reassure, reading Bucky’s mind. “You were perfect, Bucky, I swear you were. Are. This. It’s not. It’s really not you,” he says with a small, humourless chuckle, “it’s me.”

Bucky looks at the tense line of Tony’s shoulders, at the sad set of his mouth, the defeat in his eyes, and he knows it’s the truth. Or, at least, what Tony believes to be true. “Tony, sweetheart, I don’t understand—”

“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Tony says quietly as he backs away towards the door. Then, voice breaking on what sounds suspiciously like a sob, “Bucky, please.”

There’s nothing Bucky wants more than to reach out, wrap his arms around Tony, draw him in and hold him tight, kiss away the tears he can see glistening at the corners of Tony’s eyes. But Bucky’s never been able to refuse Tony, to deny him a single thing, especially not when he’s upset, and not even, it turns out, if it breaks his own heart. So Bucky nods, throat tight, and shoves his hands into his pockets instead.

“If—if you want to talk,” Bucky croaks, and has to clear his throat before he can continue, “about this, us, about something else. Or if you need me, if you need anything at all. You call me, a’right?” He waits until Tony hesitantly meets his eyes, needing Tony to see how serious he is about this, then promises, “I will find time for you. Doesn’t matter where I am, what I’m doing. I’ll make time for you, Tony. Always. I’ll—I’ll bribe Colonel Phillips to give me phone privileges, whatever it takes. I’ll do it.”

Tony’s crying fully now, and Bucky’s helpless to watch him wipe at his cheeks, doesn’t know what to do, how to fix it when Tony hiccups, wet and pained, “I’m sorry,” before turning around, and fleeing inside.

“Hey,” Steve calls as Bucky closes the door to their apartment behind himself. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry. Peggy cooked, don’t worry. Oh! She wanted me to ask you—”

He cuts off abruptly when Bucky rounds the corner into the living room, throws himself down on the couch face first, and pulls the comforter folded over its back down and over himself. “Buck? You okay?”

“No,” Bucky says, muffled. “Tony broke up with me.” When several seconds pass without Steve saying anything, Bucky shoves the comforter down enough to glance over at him, hackles raising at Steve’s almost relieved expression. “What?”

“Well. You know,” Steve says, shrugging. “It’s not exactly a surprise, is it?”

Bucky blinks at him. “The fuck are you talkin’ about? We were fine.”

The way Steve grimaces, he apparently doesn’t agree. “Buck, c’mon. He’s nineteen, smart, absurdly rich—

“So, what?” Bucky cuts in snappishly. “You’re sayin’ I’m not good enough for him? Tony doesn’t care about shit like that. An’ I thought you didn’t, either.”

Steve glares at him. “You know damn well that’s not what I’m saying. You’re a catch, anyone’d be lucky to have you.”

“Anyone but Tony?” Bucky sits up properly, pointing an accusing finger at Steve. “You never liked him, anyway. You never even gave him a chance to—”

“Because I knew this would happen!” Steve yells back, throwing his hands up in the air. “Bucky, be serious for a moment. Tony is young, with the world at his feet, and people lining up to get a piece of him. He’s—flighty, he’s never had a stable relationship before you came along. I want you to be happy, you know I do, but him getting bored of you was exactly what I was afraid of when—”

“That’s not what happened,” Bucky insists, standing.

Steve shrugs, but his pitying expression belies his nonchalance. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“I’m going to bed,” Bucky sighs, shaking his head. “Don’t wanna fight with you on my last day home.”

Bucky doesn’t fall asleep until hours later, though, curled up on top of his blankets, clutching a pillow that still smells faintly of Tony, his heart heavy and a lump in his throat.

- Potrix

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha bucky #omega tony #military bucky #alternate universe #human au #misunderstandings #hurt/comfort #background steve x peggy #thelongwayround #prompts #potrix

[thfrustration]

Wildest Dreams - Chapters 8 - 10

TITLE OF STORY: Wildest Dreams

CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Part 1 (Chapter 8/9/10)

AUTHOR: Anonymous

WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor Tom

GENRE: smut, fluff, angst.

FIC SUMMARY: It’s been three months since Tom and Sofia last saw each other. Memories from the past year come back to them, as they are now thrown together doing PR for their upcoming movie. Will they be able to sort out their feelings and the messy situation that they’re both in?

RATING: M

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES:

————————————————————————————

Chapter 8

Sofia POV

-One Year Later-

“You know you are very charming, Tom. I have to give you that” The interviewer spoke coyly. She continued twirling a string of her curly hair, and shifted her legs so her dress rode a little higher.

“Claire, we have to save something for the interview don’t we” Tom answered, giving her yet another one of his star studded smiles. I couldn’t stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“Do you need anything else Ms. Anis?” One of the crew members asked me.

“The water is fine thanks” It was strange seeing Tom so forward in public.

“Alright let’s get started then!” Claire said.

She spent the first five minutes talking to Tom about his incredible career, and he was relishing in all the attention. She hasn’t even looked at my direction once.

“Now, we are trailing off topic here. So let’s get back to what we wanted to talk about which is the movie which you two are in!”

Finally.

“So…Tom what inspired you to take on this role?”

Seriously? She would jump all over him if she could. Claire wrote for a notorious online website famous for their scandalous celebrity stories. And right now, Tom was the hottest star out there. I was still a nobody in her eyes.

“Can I just say the romance between your characters is INSANE!” She leaned forward, fanning her face with her question cards lightly. “I could practically feed off it during the scenes. So I have to ask, full disclosure…did anything happen off screen with you two? I just find it very hard to believe that nothing happened, especially with how realistic it seems onscreen…” She gave us a wicked grin.

What prompted her to ask such a question? It had to be coincidental. I looked over to Tom, who seemed to be just as surprised as I am.

“No” I jumped in giving her a smile. At least, I could answer one question. “We just took a lot of time to work together on the scenes off screen. That’s probably why it seemed so natural.”

She appeared bored by my answer, but that didn’t stop her from trying to pry more information out of the two of us. “Okay, okay…how about this, and I am asking on behalf of your fans of course….are you both single?”

“What does that have to do with the film?” I asked

“Oh, we like to get a bit personal here. We really want to get to know who the actors on the big screen are, what are their lives like, so it can be relatable to our readers…” She attempted to justify the reasoning behind her odd questions.

I gave her a smile before responding “No, I have a boyfriend.”

She turned her gaze to Tom. I watched his jaw clench then soften, and he leaned forward, slightly raising one of his brows before answering in a low tone. “Yes, I definitely am”.

-Before-

“These days are the reason why being so far away is worth every moment…”

Iris sank deep into the water, the ripples brushing against my arm. I was leaning against the edge of the blue infinity pool watching the gorgeous boats sail across the beautiful caldera.

“It makes me think I’m not even here for work, like I’m on a lovely holiday” I answered quietly.

Gina, my co-star, swam up next to me to take a look at the gorgeous view. “Going back to LA is going to suck after all of this” She said.

“We’ve still got time, let’s not think that just yet” Iris added.

I didn’t think I would get along with Gina once we were housed together. She had a reputation of being a ‘diva’, but behind that facade was just a normal, laid back girl.

“We should go out tonight, and grab some dinner and ouzo” She suggested, she removed the straps of her bikini to allow the sun to even out her tan.

“Um, I have to film tomorrow” I mumbled, I was starting to feel comfortably drowsy from the warmth.

“You film that afternoon, you’re more than capable of going out tonight…” Iris said.

I was just letting everything go. I spent all my time working, and all my time forgetting… Adam disappointed me, in more ways then I could even think. His words rang around my head making feel a little sad. I tried my best not to think about it. Besides, whenever I was filming I didn’t have time to think about anything else. The hours I spend on set is the most marvelous distraction. And of course there was Tom…For some reason I felt strange when I’m around him, like I had constant butterflies in my stomach. I was suddenly very aware of him.

“Hello?” I heard Gina call out before she splashed my face with the ice cold water.

“Hey!”

“Where’s your head at?”

“I was just thinking about Adam…” I felt bad for lying, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing.

“Oh for goodness sake!” Iris rolled her eyes “You have to get over that prick”

I looked at Iris, “Hey, it’s not easy just getting over him, and he isn’t a prick…” I answered defensively.

“Oh yes he is. If he really loved you he wouldn’t have let you go so easily. Besides, you know what you need to feel better?”

I couldn’t tell where she was going with this, it was difficult to read the expression on her face while she hid under those huge sunglasses.

“A good fuck” she blurted out.

Gina let out a roaring laugh. “I love how blunt you are.”

I felt my face go red, and looked at Gina with a shocked expression. She casually shrugged her shoulders, “What? You know, it might actually help. Hook up with a really hot guy…just let loose and feel good…besides how long has it been since you had someone gave you a mind-blowing orga-”

“Gina?! I mean I expect this from Iris, but you?” I asked.

“Believe me, you’ll get over Adam in no time. We’re young, in a gorgeous foreign country…Live a little…” She nudged her bare shoulder against mine giving me a wink.

“You know who would be a great option…” Iris interrupted. “Tom” Her grin was cunning, so cunning that I felt my stomach flip at the mention of his name.

“Excuse…”

“Oh yeah, you should definitely go for that he is so incredibly fine” Gina responded.

“Hold on!” I halted the conversation. “You can’t be serious! Tom is my co-star. I would never even think…”

“But look at you! Turning all red!” Iris pinched my burnt cheeks.

“You know I’ve heard Tom has quite the reputation with ladies, he’s very desirable…” Gina mentioned, clearly ignoring my response.

“Those ladies can fling themselves as much as they want on Tom, but I’ve noticed where his eye wanders…” Iris pointed out, giving me a knowing stare. “After all he is staying right next door…”  

“Guys! Please…just stop!”

“Come on, I’m sure you’ve thought about it…”

“No! I haven’t because I don’t…I mean I do think…about that…but not with him!”

“Wait are you a virgin? All this time I thought you and Adam…”

“Iris…” I felt a little breathless trying to make my argument “Goodness, you talk a lot” She giggled at my comment, and sank under the water trying to hide her shame.

“I am not a virgin, but…” I could feel her and Gina stare at me intently. “Adam was the only person I’ve ever slept with. Before him I’ve never been in a serious relationship with anyone else…”

“That’s fine! There’s no reason to be ashamed…besides there are other things you can do then just have sex” She lifted herself out of the pool. “It’s just something to think about Sof. Step out of your comfort zone, like Gina said, live a little. Besides are you honestly going to tell me that you haven’t thought about Tom in that way at all?”

———————————————————————

Chapter 9

Tom POV

-before-

I looked at the message, my finger hovering over the call button, but I didn’t press it.

How could I?

I sat outside, looking out onto the island covered in lights. It was late, but I was enjoying the breeze and ocean air. It seemed to be the only thing calming me down.

I looked  at the number on my phone, maybe I should just do it and get it over with.

A sound of laughter coming up the steps caught my attention, and I looked up to find Iris, Gina and Sofia wobbling their way towards the villa.

I tucked my phone away in my pocket. “Evening ladies”

“Tom! Look! Tom is here!” Gina said, she walked over towards me, nearly tripping on her sandal. I managed to catch her. “You alright?’ I asked

“I’m sorry” she kept saying in between her laughs, she waved her hand in my face like she was trying to brush me off.  

“You guys seem to be having a fun night out” I said. My eyes suddenly captivated by Sofia. She looked at me then immediately turned her gaze towards Iris, who was dangling in her arms, and whispering things in her ears.

“Come on Gina, we better go before we make an even bigger embarrassment of ourselves…” Sofia said, I could detect the emphasis she placed on her words as she spoke.

Gina swayed over towards the girls, holding onto Iris who in turn pushed Sofia towards me. “I’ll take care of Gina, you two stay and…talk…” The two of them giggled like teenagers before leaving an abandoned Sofia to fend for herself.

“Care to explain?”  

“I have no idea what that’s all about” She responded, her face seemed incredibly flushed. I couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or alcohol. She was swaying ever so slightly back and forth.

“Do you think you’ll be alright for tomorrow?” I asking jokingly, looking down at her. My eyes wandering to her sun kissed neck and collarbone.  

“Yes! I’m feeling really good you know that…” She giggled. A gust of wind blew her hair across her face, and she pulled the strands behind her ears.

Striking. The more I saw her the more I understood why she was just so alluring. Even when we work together on set, I am continuously amazed by her. I’ve been consumed by my infatuation, but hid it well.

“I can see that you are” I gave her a small smile.

Her eyes caught my stare, and she looked at me with the slightest hint of curiosity.

“What?”  

“It’s just…you’re very beautiful you know that?”

Damn, I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Control yourself, Tom.

She appeared shocked by my comment. “Uh- thank you” she answered nervously.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be so bold. Look, we’ve got a long day tomorrow, and you should get some rest. Hangovers and filming is never a good combination. Have a goodnight, Sofia” I walked away from her towards my villa. My hand touched the handle on my door, but before I managed to enter, I felt a tug on the back of my shirt.

“Hold on” Sofia whispered as she stood behind me, she looked up at me with those big eyes. A stillness lingered in the air.  

“What is it?” I asked.

“Can I come in?”.

Sofia POV

- One Year Later -

“…As for the romance between Tom and Sofia, who knows. But this reporter said it here first…there’s more to this story than we know…In the meantime, Tom Hiddleston has been spotted galavanting around town with model Elsa Cartwright…”

“Guess who I was on the phone with?” Adam announced as he walked into his living room.

I immediately closed my laptop, hoping he forgets to ask me about the article. I immediately brushed off the feeling of jealousy after I saw the number of pictures of Tom and Elsa together stepping out of a restaurant.

“Tell me”

“Your boss”

“What?” I asked confused.

“I just got a call from Harrison’s assistant. They want a table for the bar opening this weekend. I knew this investment would be a good idea…especially if I’m pulling in customers like Harrison”

My eyes widened, I could see the excitement all over Adam’s face. “Babe that’s so great! I’m so happy for you!” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

“I bet he’ll be surprised to see you there”

“Well, I can’t wait to show off my fantastic boyfriend to everyone”

Adam kissed my forehead. “I love you know you know that? Let’s celebrate tonight!” He got up and walked over to his kitchen.

I gave him my supportive smile, which slowly disappeared when a sudden thought dawned on me.

Harrison wouldn’t invite Tom…would he?

——————————————————————

Chapter 10

Sofia POV

-Before-

He smells like ocean and pine, and he looks so good.

Really good.

After a couple of glasses of ouzo, Iris’ advice started to make some sense. I do need to get out of my comfort zone. All my life I’ve always played everything so safe, even with Adam. He and I were good friends before we started dating, and I thought I was the happiest girl in the world, with the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. Adam was kind and sweet and sensitive…and I…felt safe. I put myself in a box without even realizing it, and I’m sick of feeling miserable. I wanted to enjoy this moment, because it is my moment.

“Would you like some water?…” Tom asked, obviously worried about my slightly tipsy state.

“I’m fine” I sat up straight to face him very aware of the space between us. “Except that I can’t feel my lips” I giggled.

Tom laughed, “well that can happen”

“I don’t usually drink you know? It’s rare when I do…but tonight was fun…”

“Well I’m glad that you did. I’ve been worried about you, with everything that’s been going on…”

“I’m surprised that you…”

He let out a small laugh, “care?”. Then looked directly at me “I do”

“Well in that case, I’ve noticed something about you too…” He squinted his eyes at my words. “You’re always looking at your phone when no one is watching, and you’ve got this…contemplative expression on your face…sometimes you gaze off into the distance, almost like your mind is elsewhere.” I boldly explained.

“You noticed that?”

“Yes” I answered, ignoring my nerves.

He rub his fingers against his chin, but didn’t answer for a good couple of seconds. I felt my heartbeat faster, I might have crossed a line. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to pry…I know how you are about your private life…”

He leaned closer towards me, his face inches from mine. “You’re not the only person who is trying to move forward. I guess it’s a good thing we pay attention to one another, and it’s nice to know that you also care”

I bit my bottom lip, Just kiss him. There is an obvious attraction between us, right? What’s there to lose?

“Sof?”  

I leaned forward and softly brushed my lips against his, my hands found their way to his chest and I could feel him breathing heavily. He appeared slightly taken aback by my action, but I slowly moved my hands up and around his neck. “Kiss me” I whispered.

His mouth was warm, and he tasted like salt and whiskey at the same time. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the moment. The kiss was slow at first, until I felt his hands reach for my hips. His grip tightened on my pelvic bones and he pulled me onto his lap. He became more aggressive, eager…I felt my body go weak. I’ve never been kissed like this before.

I pulled away, our foreheads were pressed against each other, we were both trying to catch our breathe. I lifted my sundress over my head tossing it aside,  showing off my black strapless bra and matching underwear. Tom’s eyes wandered down my body, and I felt him harden between my legs.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice was rough.

I gave him a seductive smile, and leaned forward. I can’t believe I’m going to do this.

I kissed him again, wanting more. My hands made there way to the buttons of his shirt. I pressed my body closer against him, and he let out a soft groan. Tom took off his shirt, but then immediately pulled away from me. He wrapped his shirt around my body, holding it together with his fingers.

“What are you doing?” I asked, stunned by his reaction. Did I do something wrong?

“I’m not doing this with you” He said looking away from me.

“But you kissed me back…I know you want it-“

“Sofia!” Tom yelled, I felt the blood drain from my face. “I’m not doing this with you…not like this…”

“What do you mean? I’m the one whose doing this, you didn’t do anything wrong”

“You’re drunk” He said coldly, as he gently pushed me off his lap. “Go home, get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow…”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #thfrustration #real person fanfiction #wildest dreams #anonymous #actor tom #angst #sofia #ex-lovers #multis #submission #mature