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tomtenadia · 3 years

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A Little Braver - 21

Hello everyone,

as I am about to post, itunes has just started playing the song A Little Braver that i used as an inspiration for this title of this fic. I can’t believe it’s already time for ch 21. One more chapter and Rowan is back.

A few things before I let you go. It’s Lys and Aedion’s wedding. The location used as an inspiration is this: https://www.visitscotland.com/info/see-do/duff-house-p246341 the place is called Duff House and is in Banff, about two hours from where I live. It’s a gorgeous place.

Secondly, I am the worst at describing clothes. so in order to give you an idea of the dress Lys is wearing here we go: https://www.weddingdressfantasy.com/products/light-blue-tulle-wedding-dress.html. (I absolutely detest white wedding dresses)

Thirdly, In the fic you will noticed a first of a Sorscha/Dorian - let me explain. I am not the greatest Manorian fan, to be honest it just leaves meh. Also, in this fic they can’t happen. He is the Chief. she is a firefighter with a chance to become an officer. He is her superior. He just can’t.

And finally, in the conversation with Aelin, Rowan talks a bit about how bad it is. He also goes incommunicado for stretches of time. All I am saying is that parts of this will came back in later chapters when he finally tells her what happened. Only then, we will learn how bad it was.

I think I finished my announcements and I can leave you to the chapter

Aelin’s alarm went off far too early for her taste. Her hand slammed her phone and stopped the annoying sound, then she rolled and hugged again bird Rowan and buried her face in his pillow inhaling his scent in what had become her routine since he had left.

“Good morning, my friend.” She muttered in the pillow then stared at the toy “do we want to go to work?” She groaned and grabbed her phone and found a message from Rowan. It had the picture of a gorgeous red sunrise in the background of a busy flight deck Had a night from hell, but this view lifts my spirits up a bit.

She read the message and panic rose so she tried to phone him and luckily he answered at the first ring.

“Hey,” his voice was strained and Aelin’s heart started to race in fear.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just a bad night and we lost few pilots. I have known them for a very long time and served together a lot as well. Some had wife and kids.” He said very softly, his voice almost broke by the tears he was probably trying not to shed over the phone.

“I am sorry.” Was her pitiful reply but she was not good at consoling people. Then her treacherous mind started telling her that it could have been him and she almost felt sick.

She heard him sigh deeply as an alarm started blaring in the background “I gotta go. Sorry. I will phone you as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry. I am at work on my usual super long shift.”

“Stay safe,” he said with a worried tone.

“You as well, please. I am getting used having you around the house.”

He chuckled lightly “I enjoy being around the house too.”

Then she heard a voice calling every one to battle station “Fuck. Sorry gotta run. Love you.”

And he hang up after those words, probably sprinting out of his quarters or wherever he was. Even her, in her limited knowledge of military life knew that a call for battle stations was not a good sign. That was what all her sci-fi movies told her.

Aelin took a shower and slowly got dressed for work and mentally prepared herself for another long day, probably a visit to detective Ytger

She arrived at the station not long after and went to her office and Aedion met her there a moment later.

She had received an email from the detective and she had expected the woman to be there already.

“The detective is on her way.” She told her cousin while he sat down.

“Do you think we are in trouble?”

Aelin shrugged “those clubs had to be closed down.”

“I know. I am just worried. He has to know by now that it came from us and I have a bad feeling about all of this.”

She sighed again, meeting his worried stare “you are not alone in that. We probably made a big enemy but he has to pay somehow.”

Aedion was about to reply when a knock on the door interrupted her.

“Come in,”

The door opened and Aelin recognised the detective “sorry, one of your team members showed me to your office, I told them you were expecting me.”

“Take a seat detective, Aedion and I were just catching up.”

She took out a thick folder from the messenger bag she was carrying and placed the file on Aelin’s desk “All we have about Hamel so far, and officer Westfall gave me a report of last night.”

Aelin grabbed a file of her own and passed it to the woman in front of her “before leaving the club I called my relief captain and told him what was happening. He made it pass like an anonymous call but after what I told him and what he discovered it was in our jurisdiction to close the place.”

“It’s in your authority to give him a prohibition notice but as you know as well he has a right to appeal and contest your findings and I have a feeling his lawyers are already at work to stop that.”

“Those places are a disaster waiting to happen. As captain I cannot leave them functioning knowing what I saw last night.”

The woman nodded in understanding “Captain, I am on your side and my superiors agree as well. Hamel has caused enough problems for a long time and needs to be stopped.”

“We can close all of his clubs, but you tell me his lawyers bail him out every time. We cannot win this.”

“We have further leads and a few agents undercover working on them. That’s all I can say. The operation is quite secret.”

“I hope you will succeed, detective.”

“We will keep you in the loop,” she made a movement to stand but paused halfway “Hamel is a nasty customer. Keep an eye out. Just be careful.” She nodded at both of them and then excused herself saying she had to go back to the precinct.

Aelin was about to add something else but Brullo barged in her office all panicked “Cap, Lieutenant, you need to come immediately.”

The two stood quickly and followed the man outside and to the area where the engine and truck were parked. Brullo pointed at something behind the two rigs: a medium-sized parcel.

“We were all in the common room, then I came through here and I saw it. I did not touch it, I came straight to you, sir.”

Aedion nodded “Aelin grab the whole team and get out of here.”

She looked at him in protest.

“As a precaution. This is my area.”

Aelin nodded, if that was an actual bomb he was the only one who could actually do something.

“I’ll call the police and bomb squad.” Aelin took her phone out but Aedion stopped her.

“Not here, remember basic bomb training? Radio signals can trigger it. Grab the team and get out of the firehouse.” He ordered her, that was his field and Aelin would gladly let him take charge.

“Ok, but you be careful, please.”

Aedion nodded and went to get his bomb suit while Aelin and Brullo went to gather the rest of the team and evacuate the premises as asked.

It was half an hour later when Aelin got the all clear from Aedion and ran back to the station with Lysandra just as nervous as she had been.

Aedion had removed his suit and was back in his uniform.

He walked to the two women and nodded at Aelin, confirming that it was a real bomb he had just defused. He then handed her a message that had been taped inside the box.

This is only the beginning. You made a big mistake.

Aelin swore loudly.

“What’s going on?” Asked Lysandra who had no idea of the whole Hamel situation, just like the rest of the team.

“Station meeting,” called Aelin as the rest of the team marched back in.

Aedion took everyone in the communal area while Aelin called detective Ytger to tell her about the bomb they had received. The woman had asked to keep the artefact as proof and that the bomb squad was on its way to collect it to add to their investigation.

She closed the call and joined the rest of the team and braced herself to tell them the truth she and Aedion had omitted for their protection.

“Ok, everyone, I need your attention because what I am about to tell you is quite serious.” She started, staring at her team with dread in her guts.

“Was that a real bomb?” Asked Manon.

Aedion nodded.

“Remember the call we had at the Vaults? Only Aedion and I went in. The kitchen caught fire and two people died. The whole place was not up to code. So Aedion and I confronted the owner who did not seem to care. Threats have been exchanged. Aedion and I started working with the police and the owner of the club is apparently high on the list of criminals to remove from the streets.” She kept telling them, unable to read their emotions “the night of my birthday and Lys’ party we went to a club and I did some recon.”

“Is that why you disappeared for so long?”

Aelin nodded “Chaol was there as my back up. As soon as we left I called Pete and told him the situation. He passed the call as an anonymous one and they closed the club.” Then she turned to the male counterpart of the team “at your party, the fire alarm going off? That was Aedion.”

“Our club was a mess as well. I knew Pete was busy as I knew Aelin’s plan so I pulled the fire alarm. That club was shut down as well.” Continued Aedion, not letting the burden of the confession all on Aelin’s shoulders. They had decided together.

“You are two bloody idiots.” Shouted Lysandra “and you thought not to tell us, why?”

Aedion was about to reply but Lys marched to him “and don’t say to bloody protect us. You are not a knight in shining armour.” Her green eyes bore into his with fury.

“We had a chat with the police and we realised the lesser people knew the better.” Added Aelin.

“Not to be disrespectful, cap, but we are your team. We are a family. And you should not keep such things from us.” Ren’s voice broke the momentary silence.

“I know,” said Aelin almost mystified “I was just not expecting an actual bomb landing in our station.”

“What do we do now?” This time it was Elide voicing everyone’s thoughts.

Aelin sighed “stay alert. The police is on the case but I have a feeling it will get worse before it gets better.”

“Report anything that looks suspicious to us either of us.”

The team nodded. And Aelin dismissed them all and they all went back to their duties.

The night had been long and they had far too many calls for her taste, but the shift had finished with no more drama and no more bombs and she called it a success, although she could not push away the constant feeling of doom in her guts. That bomb and the message had been clear. Hamel was not going to forget how both she and Aedion had confronted him.

She parked the car in her spot and the sight of Rowan’s reminded her that he would not be at home waiting for her. She hadn’t heard from his since the day before and she hoped he was fine. He sounded down. She had texted him once but received no reply.

She grabbed her bag and got back inside her house, looking forward to a very long relaxing shower. She walked to her bedroom, removed her shirt when powerful arms grabbed her from behind and a blade appeared at her neck “now, captain, you behave like a good girl and not a peep or I’ll slice your throat.”

Aelin nodded silently.

“Good,” his voice near her ear. Then she felt his lips on her neck “you are such a nice treat.” She realised too late she was just in a bra and Aelin felt his disgusting hand slither up to her chest. Rage rose through her “you know? I haven’t had a tumble with a woman in a long time. I might just have my way with you before I kill you.”

Hell no, thought Aelin.

With what little she remembered about self defence that Aedion had thought her she kicked the man in the nuts then grabbed the arm he had around her neck and with a powerful move she just threw him on the floor. His head slamming hard falling unconscious on the spot.

In a frenzy she grabbed her phone from her back pocket and called Chaol.

“Hey,”

“Hi. Are you on shift?” She asked him, voice trembling.

“Yes, out on patrol.”

“Good. I need you at my house. Someone just broke in and attacked me.” She explained while trying to calm down the anger.

“Ok, I will be there as soon as I can. You haven’t moved, have you?”

“No, still same address.”

She sat beside the unconscious man and kicked the blade away with her shoe. And then she tried very hard not to cry.

“Aelin, it’s me.” A knock on the door woke her up from her shocked state. She grabbed the blanket she had on her bed and wrapped it around her and went to open the door to Chaol. Beside him stood a woman, his partner. She had met Nesryn many times before.

Chaol noted her state “are you okay?”

She walked to the bed and sat down staring at the man on the floor.

“He is unconscious,” said the other woman while cuffing the perp.

Chaol stopped in front of her “what happened?”

“I just got home from my shift. I got in the house and he attacked me while I was getting changed. He put a knife at my throat.” And she pointed at the weapon on the floor.

Nesryn came off the phone “detective Ytger is on her way.” Then she stood and walked to the kitchen and got some water for Aelin.

“Thank you.”

“He didn’t…” asked Nesryn with caution.

Aelin shook her head “I have no shirt on because I removed it before I was attacked. He just got a nice sight and a squeeze. I stopped him before he could do more.”

Twenty minutes later detective Ytger and a few more detectives arrived in the house inspecting it and collecting any bit of evidence they could, knife first of all.

“Aelin, this is Tern one of Hamel’s men.” said the woman pointing at the still unconscious man cuffed on the floor.

That was good thought Aelin, they could arrest Hamel now?

“We will bring him to the station and interrogate him. But Hamel’s men rarely sing.”

“So he almost killed me and nothing will change?” She stood and shouted “this man came into my house and almost got me.” And she pointed at the thin cut at her throat “I am alive because I can defend myself.” She sat back on the bed, hands shaking. She was not going to break down.

“You should come to the station for a statement,” said the detective.

“Would it help?”

“To put Tern away for a while.” Then she shook her head “not yet enough for Hamel.”

Aelin groaned and went to get a clean t-shirt and a hoodie “fine, let’s do this.” And walked to the door of her flat annoyed.

Her time at the police station had felt completely useless. They had asked her for a statement, asked her to recount again what had happened and then again she was told that the chances to finally frame Hamel were still quite low. They had no way prove that Hamel had tried to kill her although the police knew that Tern worked for Hamel. She was slowly losing any hope and confidence in the police.

Once the detectives had left, Chaol sat with her in the interrogation room “are you sure you are fine?” His voice full of worry as his brown eyes stared at her.

“Yeah.” She said flatly “I just want to go to bed. I came off the night shift and I am tired.”

“Your house is still a crime scene.”

Aelin swore loudly “what am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe Aedion can take you in until you get your place back.”

“I don’t want strangers in my house or in my bedroom.” She snapped. She did not want anyone going to her bedroom and possibly touching his stuff.

“They have to.”

“They got the knife, and Tern, what more do they need?” She stood and started pacing frantically and Chaol knew she was not okay.

“I am calling Aedion.” The man took his phone out and phoned her cousin explaining him what happened and that she needed a place to stay for probably a day.

Aelin sat back on the chair and tried very hard to not to break down. She was tired and furious and with a deep desire of smashing something. She felt tears sting her eyes and fought them hard. But the rage was like a wildfire inside her.

The bastard was trying to kill her. How dared he?

“Aedion and Lys are on their way.” Chaol came back and sat down again beside her and pulled her closer.

“I thought we were doing the right thing,” she said quietly “that man belongs to a jail. How dare he think he can get me killed because I am doing my job?” She was seething then peeled away from Chaol’s attempt at comfort and resumed pacing feeling restless.

“I’ll go and sleep at the station.” Aelin stopped and Chaol noticed her shoulders slump in exhaustion.

He grabbed her hand and stopped her. She needed to be with someone close to her. He had known Aelin for a very long time. The police tended to work a lot with them and eventually Chaol got to know the entire fire station: both east and west. But that was the first time he saw Aelin in that state. He had seen her run into fires without batting an eyelid but that day she was truly scared.

“Wait for them, you need company tonight.”

It was a good half an hour later when Lysandra and Aedion made their way inside the police station and Lysandra ran to Aelin as soon as she spotted her friend. The two women embraced fiercely and Aelin burst into tears as soon as she was in the other woman’s arms.

In the meantime Chaol took Aedion aside and explained to him what happened.

“Are you okay?” Lysandra took Aelin’s face in her hand and green eyes met blue “you are coming with us, Ae and I will look after you.”

Aelin shook her head “you have a wedding to prepare for. I will sleep at the station. I am fine.”

Lysandra sighed in exasperation “Aedion, you tell her she is coming with us and not going to camp at the fire station.”

Aedion walked slowly to his cousin and kissed her head “there is no way you are sleeping at the station. We have a spare room. And stop being stubborn or I call flying boy and tell him to have a chat with you.”

Aelin’s heart sank. She did not want Rowan to know, at least not while he was away. He was already having a rough time as it was. He could not worry about her as well. And for something like this he would downright freak out.

“Fine.” She yielded.

The drive home had been quiet, Aelin sat at the back of the car and leaned her face against the window staring at the city passing by. The fury had somehow calmed down but the whole attack had thrown her off “Ae, I need you to teach me better hand to hand combat. I keep thinking that I am alive because you taught me some manoeuvres to defend myself.”

“We can do that and if any of the other ladies in the team want to join I can do it for all of you.”

Aelin saw Lysandra put a hand on Aedion’s on the stick. Knowing him he was probably beating himself for not protecting her properly.

They stopped at the traffic lights and Aedion slammed his hand on the steering wheel in rage “first that bomb and now this. I want the man’s head on a silver plate.”

“The police has no proof.” Said Aelin with such a flat tone that Aedion worried seriously. She had just recovered from all the fire ordeal. She could not go through another breakdown. And this time Rowan wasn’t even there.

Aedion breathed out and relaxed as the lights turned green. They arrived at their house not long after and once inside Lysandra took Aelin to her temporary room. When she came back she had a bundle of clothes for her.

“These are mine.” She handed her over the bundle “I have spare toiletries and towels if you need a shower. I will ask Aedion to make lunch.”

Aelin shook her head “I am just taking a shower and going to bed. I don’t feel hungry and definitely not in the mood for company.”

Lysandra hugged her “we’ll set aside some food so if you are hungry later on, it’s there.”

Aelin’s arms tightened around her friend’s body “thank you for having me.”

“Always,” Lysandra pulled back and searched for Aelin’s stare “especially now that the captain is away. We are here.” And with that she left.

Her shower had been long as she had the need to scrub off her body from the contact with the assailant. Remove the memory of his touch on her skin. Once she felt clean again she went back to her room and curled up in bed. She wanted to speak to Rowan but was afraid she would crumble. But the weak part of her needed to hear his voice and know he was okay. So she gathered some courage and called him.

Aelin was about to hang up when he finally answered.

“Hi trouble.

“Such loving words to say to your girlfriend.”

“Keep me company while I walk back to my quarters.”

“I just got out of the shower. I only have my bathrobe on.”

“Cruel, cruel woman.”

Aelin grinned and snapped a picture of her, the robe slightly open to show her legs and part of her breasts to tease him “you better get to your quarters before looking at the photo I just sent you.”

She heard a door slam and a much quieter background and Rowan was silent for a while.

“Are you still alive?”

Rowan groaned “it’s a good thing that I need to take a shower.”

Aelin laughed loudly at the joke. Speaking to him was lifting the cloud of doom that had landed on her “You might need more than your military style two minutes.”

“After the photo I will be happy to get a cold one.” He was silent for a while and she heard some rustling.

“My turn for revenge.”

Aelin looked at her phone and she had two pictures one was him in his jumpsuit how she liked him, the second was him with his bare torso and this time it was Aelin’s turn to groan “seriously, when you come back I am taking a week off, we are going back to the cabin in the woods and spend the whole week in bed having sex.”

It was Rowan’s turn to laugh “you will not hear me complain.”

“I miss you so much.” And she tried very hard not to cry, it would make things much worse and he would fuss and worry. And he was away and she could not distract him because his job was dangerous and she needed him to come back. Badly.

Rowan sighed on his end “Yeah, not having a great time either.” He said softly “how is Elide coping?”

“She just tries to ignore it and stays strong.”

“Lorcan is miserable. And all the shit that is going down is not helping.”

Aelin hugged the pillow “Ro, I know that you can’t tell me anything but are you guys okay?”

She heard Rowan loose a long breath “it’s not the first time we are in a bad situation. It has just been very exhausting and we have been pulling crazy patrol shifts.” He explained “that’s why I haven’t been texting you back. I just got off a 12hrs patrol. I think the whole team is already in bed.”

“Even the twins?”

“Yeah, we have been so busy that they had no time to indulge in any illicit activities.”

Aelin smiled “ohh poor Fenrys.”

“I already have enough on my plate. I don’t have time to deal with his stupidity.”

Aelin smirked in the camera “can I distract you, captain?” Swiftly Aelin opened the belt of her robe exposing her naked form to him.

Rowan hissed a breath “Aelin…” his voice strained “you are not helping…”

“Just cheering you up.” She bent her legs, her hand brushing slowly her stomach in a sensual motion.

Rowan growled and Aelin noticed him standing and pacing.

“Problems, captain? You seem on edge….”

He looked at her in the camera, took in her long legs and the swell of her breasts and pushed aside his need for her “were I there, you’d be against a wall right now.”

Aelin cackled in response.

“Fuck, Aelin, this is torture.” His voice harsher than meant to. Her brows furrowed “I did not meant it like that…” he corrected himself very quickly “I love this. Very much. But I can’t be there and it’s killing me.”

Aelin closed her robe back in understanding “Sorry…”

“Hey,” he said very softly and felt like a bastard “you cheered me up.” His eyes rolled “more than expected.”

Aelin laughed “I guess that shower will really be long now.”

“Definitely more than three minutes.” She saw him going back on the bed, stripping off his jump suit and remaining in a t-shirt and boxer briefs.

“Nice ass, Whitethorn.”

Rowan laughed again and she loved hearing that sound from him “Is it okay if I leave you now? It’s dinner time on the ship and I hate being late because the best stuff is gone.”

“No,” she said softly “go, take that shower and have some food.”

He stood and looked at her in the camera “thank you.” He blew her a kiss “I love you.”

“Same here. Very much.” She sighed, dreading the end of the conversation “Go.”

“Okay. Hanging up now…” he waved at her and waved back and eventually hung up the call and Aelin collapsed down in bed with heaviness and sadness.

Then she got up and wore some clothes and left the room to join Aedion and Lys. They had been nice to her and she did not want to offend them. Also, speaking with Rowan had calmed her fears a bit.

Once in the kitchen she joined her friends.

“Look who has a big smile. Phone sex with the captain?”

Aelin chuckled and shook her head sitting down beside Lysandra. Aedion passed her a huge portion of food.

“You can totally have sex phone with him, Ae and I will not judge.”

Aelin took a bit of her food and hummed happily. Aedion was a great cook “he had to shower and then dinner. Meals are on set times.”

“And suck most of the times, but maybe the posh gangs on the boats have fancy cooks. Sometimes we had to survive on military ration packs.” he explained eating eagerly his food “as soon as I retired I learned how to cook.”

“And you are awesome at it.” Lysandra brushed her hand on his arm.

“Guys, thank you for having me over.” She felt as if she hadn’t thanked them properly. It was a few days before their wedding and she hated being a burden.

“Hey, we are here. And you know that when Rowan is away you can stay with us if you feel lonely.”

“I can always babysit once you make me aunt Aelin.”

Lysandra laughed “hold your horses lady, he gets to marry me… for his progeny he will have to wait.”

“Imagine cute blonde babies with green eyes.”

“I can definitely imagine kids between you and the captain.”

Aelin almost chocked on her food “seriously, Lys, you can’t just blurt out stuff like that.”

“Why?” She asked innocently and Aedion elbowed her.

“We just finished fighting and barely started figuring out things. I leave the whole marriage thing to you, for now.”

Lysandra sighed and did not push. She knew it was a tough topic for Aelin. She and Sam had been months away from getting married before he died and she knew they had the whole kids chat and had planed a family “Fine.”

They finished dinner and Aelin offered to help clean up, it was the least she could do. The three of them camped on the sofa and chatted for a few hours then Aelin started yawning and excused herself to bed. She had a long crappy day.

***

It was the weekend and the big day for Lys and Aedion. Aelin had returned home two days after the attack. The police had contacted her telling her that the house was released back and she had gone back as soon as she could. Lysandra and Aedion had driven her home and spent some time with her making sure she was fine being there again. Aelin, being her stubborn self, had sworn she was fine but had started playing music all the time to try and hide the silence in the house. The first thing she did was to flop on the bed and inhale Rowan’s scent and hug bird Rowan like an addict.

She was about to get dressed when her phone went off.

“Oh look who is calling.” She hadn’t heard from him since their last conversation and although she knew it would happen it would always make her nervous.

“How is my girl doing?” Since they had put an official label in their relationship, he had become even more affectionate and had also started using cute nicknames for her on top of Fireheart which still was the main one he used. All their barriers had officially fallen and distance was the only thing separating them. She loved this new take in their relationship. She was just looking forward to him coming back and finally ask him the question she had been pondering for weeks.

“Great. It’s Lys and Aedion’s wedding day. I was just getting ready.”

“Will I get to see in you in your maid of honour’s dress?”

“If you behave,” she teased while removing her pyjama “how are you doing?”

“I am on downtime… until some shit happens and we have to scramble no matter what.”

“That sucks.”

Rowan sighed “I know, but that’s how it works.”

Aelin put the phone on the bed and on speaker phone “Keep talking, I am just getting dressed and I got you on speaker phone.”

“I really hate I can’t be there.” Then he stopped “you are not taking another man, are you?”

Aelin laughed. Him playing jealous boyfriend was cute “Brullo is accompanying me and Ress is taking Elide. They are just being nice, don’t worry.”

“Fine, I’ll trust them to keep their hands to themselves.”

“Jealous much, captain?”

Rowan just grunted something unintelligible.

She finished pulling up the dress and with some acrobatics she did manage to zip it up as well “that’s when I need you here. To zip up my dress.” She groaned after the feat just accomplished.

“Honestly, I’d rather zip it down.” Aelin could hear him smile.

Then she grabbed her phone and switched on the camera “here we go, Buzzard. My hair is not done yet, neither my make up, but you can see the dress.”

It was a long light blue dress that would match the bride’s colour. The skirt pooled at her feet and with a squared neckline. It was very simple. Rowan had switched on the camera as well and from his expression she could see it was effective as well “so?”

He swallowed hard “I assume you have underwear this time?”

“Yes, it’s not as tight as the black one, so it does not look bad.”

“Again… it really sucks not to be there.”

She twirled for him “is that all you have, captain?” Then Aelin took a seat at the vanity dressing table and started fixing her hair while the phone was leaning against the mirror.

“I have so many naughty thoughts just now… that if I were there we would definitely be late for the wedding.”

Aelin cackled in joy. Once her hair was pulled up in a nice style she opened the small jewellery box in front of her and pulled out the necklace he had given her and showed it to him “recognise this?”

His face lit up in a beautiful smile “you are wearing it?”

Aelin nodded “I always do when I am not on shift. It’s always together with your dog tags.”

“I love you.” He said to her with a tenderness that melted her heart.

The buzzer in her house went off “this must be Elide. We are going together. Go and call Lorcan.”

Aelin stood and saw Rowan doing the same. When she got back with Elide she noticed Lorcan in the image “Commodore, thank you for joining us.” Then she grabbed Elide’s arm and pulled her in the picture as well and saw an array of emotions pass through the usually stone faced man.

“Hi Lor,” said Elide timidly.

“Elide…” was the only thing he managed to say. The woman had a dress matching Aelin’s. Lysandra had chosen both of them to be her maid of honour.

“Isn’t she stunning?” She teased, loving to see the man actually showing emotions.

“Very, very much.” And no one missed the tenderness in the comment.

“Well, boys… these two ladies here have to go to a wedding so the gawking stops here.”

“Have a good time, okay?” Said Rowan, while Lorcan was still busy admiring Elide “and leave the other men alone.”

“You two enjoy your downtime and your cold showers….” She winked at them wickedly then she grabbed the phone and walked away for a moment of privacy for her goodbye to Rowan.

Once she was done she walked back to Elide who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“So, our fearless and cold commodore has emotions after all.”

Elide nodded “he just shows very little of them. But he has been calling me every time he can and well… he has been kind and he actually said he missed me. I think for him is the equivalent of saying I love you.”

Aelin hugged Elide “I am so happy he is being nice to you.”

The two finished getting ready and eventually left the house, Aelin saying goodbye to bird Rowan before leaving.

The wedding venue was an estate just outside town. It was a gorgeous sunny day and the ceremony would be held outside and then the buffet and the celebrations inside in the great hall.

Aelin and Elide arrived half an hour later and a valet took care of her car.

Together they walked along the long path with trees at both sides. In the distance they could see the mansion and the place looked majestic. A double staircase lead to the upper level but they were guided to the rear of the mansion.

Aelin approached a woman standing and looking like she was in charge of the event “Hi, we are Aelin and Elide, the two maids of honour. Where is Lysandra?”

“She is getting ready. I’ll take you to her.”

The woman lead them to the room “she is in here.”

Aelin and Elide entered and Aelin gasped amazed when she saw Lys, standing in the middle of the room. She was beautiful. The dress was light blue. Lys had told them she refused to wear white. The gown was in tulle, the corset was covered in lace with a floral pattern which continued along the gown, and a strap in tulle as well sneaked on the left shoulder.

Her dark hair was bound in a nice complicated bun with some flowers pinned in it.

Aelin took a step to her friend “Lys, you look amazing. You are going to give Aedion a heart attack.”

“Do you like it?” She pirouetted for them.

“You look like a princess,” said Elide dreamingly.

“The dress looked amazing in the picture but on you is even better.” Aelin sat on the bed “how are you feeling?”

“Nervous I think? Which everyone is telling me is normal.” She confessed.

Lysandra looked at her friends “did you send a picture of you two to your boys far away?”

Aelin smiled “I was having a video call with Rowan when Elide arrived. You should have seen Lorcan’s face. The man was speechless when he saw Elide.”

“Oh sure because Rowan was disgusted…” joked Elide.

Aelin chuckled and thought about his reaction “definitely not…”

The three women chatted and gossiped for a while until the woman who had walked them to the room came back announcing that it was time to get to their positions and that the groom was already at the altar.

“We’ll see you up there.” Aelin hugged Lys again and the woman nodded.

Aelin and Elide were taken where the other bridesmaids were, and their male companions.

Manon, Asterin and Ansel were already there and the rest of the team as well.

Brullo walked to Aelin and offered her his arm “captan, would you do me the honour?”

Aelin took his arm in hers and wore at her wrist the corsage he had offered her.

Elide took her place with Ress. Ansel went with Nox, Manon with Ren and Asterin went with Luca. The guys were wearing their dress mess uniform.

Everyone lined up for the procession and Aelin wished she could share such a happy moment with Rowan.

Classical music started playing and the bridesmaids and their partners were told to start walking down the aisle.

As they walked Aelin noticed a lot of familiar faces. All of west station was present, Dorian was sitting toward the front with Sorscha at his side. In another section she noticed Chaol and Yrene and a few more cops. There were a few men in uniform. Aedion had invited some of his ex army mates. She smiled when she saw a few civilians in a sea of uniforms. Both police officers and firefighters had worn their dress mess uniforms and the detectives were the ones mingling in the regular clothes crowd.

Aelin looked at the end of the aisle and noticed Aedion in his dress uniform, standing proud and with a big smile. His hair was tied in a very low ponytail with a red ribbon holding it together.

She was so happy for him and was looking forward to see his face when he saw Lys.

Once at the bottom of the aisle they stopped and Aelin and Elide took their positions and same for Brullo and Ress, walking behind Aedion.

The officiant joined a moment later and a man in an army uniform appeared and Aelin tried to figure out the rank from his insignia. She had learned the airforce ones but still had no clue on army and navy, but from the large cuffs on the wrists of his uniforms she guessed he was quite high up and important to Aedion if he asked him to perform the wedding.

The man patted Aedion’s shoulder and gave him a huge grin.

Eventually the music changed and Lysandra appeared at the bottom of aisle and Aelin stared at her cousin’s expression once he noticed his soon to be wife make an appearance. Lysandra was a lucky woman. She could see the deep love in Aedion’s eyes.

Lysandra walked down the aisle with a little girl, Chaol and Yrene’s daughter, being flower girl.

Aelin smiled as the little girl threw flowers and bowed to the attendees every so often. She was just adorable. Once she was done she turned and bowed one last time and ran back her parents.

Lysandra stopped in front of Aedion and the two stared at each other in silence for a moment.

Once they took their place the officiant started the wedding.

Aelin got distracted by a figure lurking behind one of the trees in the distance. Her stomach in knots in worry. Silently she kept scanning the area without showing any signs of her attention having drifted away from the wedding. And when she spotted a second one her panic rose. The men were dressed in black and clearly hiding. She saw one of them lift something that looked a lot like a rifle. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Everyone duck!” She shouted.

In that instant gun shots echoed in the air.

Aedion threw himself on Lysandra and in that instant Aelin saw a bullet finding its target in his shoulder. Blood spayed from the wound and then Lysandra’s scream followed.

She saw police, detectives and army scrambling into action. She kneeled and pulled Aedion’s body from a panicking Lysandra. Rolled over his body and sighed in relief when she saw him breathing.

She looked up at Brullo and the man was already on the phone with the emergency services.

Aelin used her dress to stop the bleeding and Elide crouched beside Lysandra to calm down the woman.

Aedion had used his body to shield Lysandra as he heard the gun shots. He had acted on pure instincts.

“Lys, he is breathing. He will be okay.” Aelin said to a terrified Lys. Their faces covered in sprayed blood. Elide used her dress to clean Lys’ face. Sorscha joined them quickly “keep the pressure on the wound.” She told Aelin, while she checked him over.

The ambulance arrived pretty quickly and Aelin recognised the paramedics from another unit.

The paramedics took care of the wound and then Aedion was lifted on a gurney.

“Go,” she said to Lys, “we are joining you at the hospital.” The woman nodded in a daze and followed the paramedics.

“Brullo, Ress, stay with Elide.” And she ran away to the police.

She saw detective Ytger dragging a man in cuffs to the exit and probably to a police car.

She joined Chaol who was holding his screaming daughter “They got two but there were more. They had rifles. I saw the army guys spreading along the perimeter.”

“Do you think…?” She asked and Chaol nodded without her having to finish the sentence.

“The bomb, the attack to you… and now this…”

Aelin’s hands fisted in rage.

It had gone too far.

She was going to take Hamel down.

No matter what.

TAGS

@rowaelinismyotp

@jlinez

@swankii-art-teacher

@courtofjurdan

@whimsicallyreading

tillyrubes10

@surielandiareendgame

@aelin-bitch-queen

@bruiseonthefaceofhumanity

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #aedion x lysandra #elide lochan #dorian #angst

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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

Guilty Souls ||Demetri Volturi x Female reader||

Warnings: Descriptions of fear and guilt but nothing particularly noteworthy.

Words: 4257

Taglist: @thelastemzy @a-avaunce @college-is-coming @alecvolturiswifeforever @broskibowser @volturidoll13 @raindancer2004

Summary: A request for @kpopgirlbtssvt

Demetri just wanted to feed. His food fighting back was never a problem before, and this is the first time he's ever lost that fight.

“We can meet back at the jet once dinner is done.”

“I shall see you there.” Demetri agreed. Felix was gone in an instant, eyes near black and his grin slightly feral. The tracker shook his head, unable to fight his amusement – he was glad he wasn’t a human on the streets tonight. Truthfully, he was tired. The mission was never going to be easy to start with, not with a psychopathic nomad attempting to become the UK’s next biggest serial killer. The murders had been brutal and attracted far too much attention, but she covered her tracks well and with no one left alive to steal the tenor from it had taken some old school tracking, some (falsified) detective work, and a little bit of luck for them to even begin to track down their killer. Now she was ash on the wind the lack of time to rest was really starting to show for the both of them.

Demetri could feel the burn much more prominently now that he had nothing else to focus on, like a ball of thorns rolling up and down his throat with every swallow. With a grimace, he turned his nose to the sky and closed his eyes. Felix was clearly in a good mood after the kill, eager to enjoy the hunt, but Demetri just wanted something within quick reach. Stretching his senses, he scoured the area, the sounds and smells of a city at night hitting him full force. He could hear traffic rumbling along the road, late night television and music pouring from apartments, people making war and making love and the faint shutting of doors as places closed up for the night. The air smelled crisper and somewhat damp, indicating rain was on the way, and the foul scent of pollution clogged his nostrils momentarily until he forced his mind to work through it and smell what lingered beneath. Tulips in bloom in the city gardens, greasy food from the chip shop across the road and…oh.

Demetri’s head turned swiftly, eyes snapping open and feet already moving in the direction of something truly mouth-watering. It made his throat burn fiercely, venom pooling in his mouth. It took him little time to find the source of the smell two streets over, moving swiftly away from him down the pavement with her backpack slung over one shoulder, the bag strap held in both hands. She seemed to glance about as she walked, the smell of old pages clinging to her. It failed to smother her mouth-watering scent, and Demetri was more than sure he had found himself quite the delicacy for the evening. There was something incredibly addictive about her scent, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on but wanted to drown in. He would have played with her if he wasn’t so damn thirsty, tainted that delicious smell with adrenaline and fear for the twang it would give her blood, but the raging fire in his throat needed soothing.

Given the goings on he shouldn’t have been surprised that she sensed him behind her. He was tailing her at a very normal, human pace so as not to arouse suspicion from the many windows she passed. The woman was smart enough to stay in public view, but it would be no match for Demetri’s speed once he saw an opening, and there was just the opening he needed coming up. The moment she neared the mouth of the alleyway he moved, his speed propelling him so fast no one would see him as any more than a blur – and that was if they really looked. His grip on her shoulder was tight and he hauled her with him with ease, spinning her straight into the brick and clamping a hand over her mouth before she could scream. It didn’t stop her from trying, the muffled noise vibrating against his hand as wide eyes rapidly grew wet, spilling tears against his palm. Demetri inhaled deeply, baring his teeth as the thirst grew to unbearable levels, but he couldn’t look away from those eyes.

Shimmering Y/E/C stared at him with so much terror, his reflection in her tears absolutely monstrous. She shook like a leaf in a violent wind, struggling frantically against him in an effort to get away. He pressed close with a snarl, desperate to ease the ache in his throat, but even when he moved his mouth closer to the throbbing pulse in her throat he couldn’t bring himself to bite down. His grip on her jaw tightened ever so slightly, his frustrated growl echoing off of the brick he had pushed her against. Her quiet whimper made him pull back.

“Stop struggling!” he hissed. She was trying to shake her head, still pushing futilely at his chest. He had to admire the fight in her and the way she fit so perfectly against him would have been sinfully delicious in any other circumstance, but not while she was looking at him like that. Those wide eyes were terrified, so incredibly frightened of him, and it made his stomach churn. He just wanted to feed dammit! Why was she making this so hard! Her heart was pounding in his ears, her blood roaring and racing beneath the surface of her skin, so why couldn’t he just indulge in it?

“Hel-“ his hand had slipped without him realising and he quickly covered her mouth back up as he tried to fight with himself. The frenzy was lapping at the back of his mind, clouding his senses and his thoughts, but the last vestiges of his sanity were clinging to her desperate attempts to preserve her life. He studied her facial features, trying to spot anything familiar. Maybe he was struggling because she looked like someone he knew? There was nothing there he recognised. Her hands must have been sore by now, his skin was literally crystallised for petes sake, yet still she didn’t let up the barrage of slaps and punches to his chest she had been delivering since he had attacked her. With a growl he brought his mouth to her throat once more, his teeth hovering right over the vein he needed to break.

One bite, just one little bite and she is all mine, I just have to bring my teeth together he thought.

Her muffled screaming picked up again, her body trembling so hard against his own his entire frame was starting to vibrate. With a groan, he flopped forward and hit his head a few times off of the brick behind her. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t feed from her. He so badly wanted to, but he couldn’t. She stilled suddenly, his low moaning seemingly startling her. For a moment, all he could hear was her shaky, rapid breathing and the pounding of her heart, his own pained filled moans and the quiet sobs he was muffling still with his hand. She never stopped trembling and Demetri couldn’t stand it. He wrapped both arms around her tight, hoping to restrict her movements.

“Stop it, stop it stop moving…please stop moving.” He begged. He was slowly losing his sanity it seemed but all he could do was watch like an out of body experience was taking place, his mind spinning and falling away from him before it surged forward and all he could acknowledge was her fear and his hatred of it. She whimpered in his ear, her neck stretched so her chin rested on his shoulder awkwardly, but even the prominent way the vein stood against the thin skin of her throat couldn’t tempt him. Her scent had soured, no longer sweet and inviting but filled with the bitter twang of fear. Usually he would enjoy it. He could still feel the predator in the back of his mind howling in delight, but he couldn’t let the monster loose.

“P-please, please let me go, l-let me go please, please.” She chanted in his ear like a siren calling him to his doom, and like she had brainwashed him with four simple words he did exactly as asked. She looked shell-shocked he had relinquished her from his grip, and he could only imagine the bruises that were going to blemish on her skin from where he had touched her – another pang of self-loathing hit him. How could he have hurt her so badly? She was beautiful, even in the darkness of the alleyway with her face covered in tears, tracking mascara down her cheeks, he could see the beauty in every feature. How could he hurt a face so angelic?

“Go.” He ground out. There was absolutely no sense in him letting her go, but he was thirsty by now he didn’t want to risk anything happening to her. As muddled as his mind would that was the only clear thing that stood out to him. Demetri wasn’t sure he understood any of what was transpiring, but after another sharp order to move she was gone, leaving her backpack behind and fleeing the alleyway as he crunched a fist into the wall.

“You alright mate?” it was a man’s voice from the opposite end of the alleyway. He didn’t have her kind of sweetness, but it would do. The tracker pulled his fist out of the brick, the rubble falling to his feet and dust coating his jacket sleeve.

“No.” he said, because truthfully he wasn’t. He never let his prey escape, not once, not even on accident. Feeding was instinctual and natural, something every vampire learned to do from their very first day, so how on Earth after 2000 years of this life had failed at it so badly tonight? Footsteps alerted him to the oncoming man, and the thumping of his heart was enough to send Demetri reeling. His lips curled back over his teeth, thirst flaring once more and the frenzy rapidly flooding his mind.

“Here mate, why don’t we-“ Demetri’s teeth in his windpipe cut him off. They tore viciously through the flesh and muscle, a burst of hot, sweet blood gushing down his throat and soothing the inferno that was raging there. It wouldn’t be enough on its own but for the few moments Demetri let his mind go elsewhere, let his instincts finally take over. This was natural. This was normal. So why the hell hadn’t he been able to do it earlier? Only when his veins were dry did Demetri drop him to the ground with a relieved sigh. With the burn minimised it was easier to think, and the more he thought the more he realised what a mistake he’d made. That woman could easily run to the police and give an accurate description of his face, his clothing. He grimaced. He’d been absolutely foolish, letting her go like that.

Her backpack remained near his feet and he rifled through the contents briefly, looking for anything that might give him any indication as to what was so special about her, where he might start looking for her. There was a work badge stating her name and the logo of a bookstore he had passed while tailing her, and a quick rummage through her wallet gave him a full driver’s license and some debit cards with her signature on the back.

Y/N L/N.

He had been so caught up in the frenzy lapping at his mind he couldn’t honestly say which tenor in his repertoire was her’s, so he was going to have to track the old fashioned way. Inhaling, he winced at the irritating scratchiness in his throat when he caught her scent. He’d need to hunt again on the way but nobody would miss the drunk old man stumbling home from the corner pub would they? He didn’t think so anyway, and nobody would find him anytime soon given the lucky proximity of a wheelie bin. She must have ran part of the way, crossing more ground than he thought she could, but he did inevitably catch up. She was still snivelling, shaking with her arms wrapped around her as she stumbled along. Demetri felt his gut twist again at the noise. She was still so afraid…

“Miss L/N.” he called.

He should have guessed she’d scream.

“Someone-“ he zipped forward and quickly covered her mouth again, his expression pained. The guilt that ate him alive was less frustrating and more exasperating now. He would give anything to stop feeling this way. Heaven forbid he was turning into a self-righteous Cullen – Felix would never forgive him.

“Please do not scream, please, I just – your backpack, I needed to return your things.” He groaned. She stopped screaming abruptly, and Demetri held her backpack up between them. Her eyes snapped up to his, and with his mind clearer now it suddenly felt so obvious to him what had stopped him feeding on her before. Something in his abdomen snapped, his breath escaping him in a sharp exhale. Left dumbstruck, his hand dropped from her mouth and he was left gawping at her like a fish out of water. Her scent enveloped him not to taunt his thirst, but to comfort him like a warm hug, his mind halting dead in its tracks to clear all messy thoughts from his head like the clouds breaking to finally reveal the sun.

Mate.

She was his mate.

And she had just kneed him in the balls.

He crumpled like a puppet with the strings cut, grunting in pain while venom stung his eyes – even vampires were not immune to this particular trick. His groin aching horribly, he struggled to force himself to stand as she sprinted flat out away from him, her backpack in hand and ready to swing. Demetri tried to push to his knees and collapsed twice more before he finally found his footing again, swearing under his breath.

“Hey, hey!” She was frantically waving towards a passing cab. He groaned, stumbling forward a few steps until the pain receded enough for him to run after her. Demetri reminded himself to be gentle with her as he tugged her to his side.

“Please, if I let you go now far worse people than me will come for you and I cannot have you hurt by them. Tell him I have booked us an uber, his help is unnecessary.” He urged. She tried to pull her wrist back, her eyes welling with tears again. This was too public a place for this and the way her backpack swung in an arc towards his face was far too suspicious. She would hardly attack a friend or a lover after all.

“Just let me go, no one has to know, I won’t tell I swear.” She pleaded.

“I cannot, they will know, they always know! Please tesoro, do not make this harder, I am trying to keep you safe now and no more innocent lives need be implicated in this.” Demetri insisted, his eyes flickering to the cab driver as he started to pull up. Y/N tried to twist away again with a whimper so he did the only thing he could think to do. He had to cut through the fear, make her feel the same pull he did, even if her human heart felt it to a lesser degree. She squeaked in surprise when his arm curled around her waist to haul her in close, but even if her mind screamed no she melted into his embrace when his lips moulded to hers, her instincts overriding all common sense because he was her mate and with him, she was safe. His embrace was soothing and sweet, his body created solely for the purpose of protecting hers, and the way his mouth slanted across her own was something she couldn’t refuse.

The way they fit together was undeniable, the chemistry behind the simple movement of his lips, so chaste and so respectful with just the right hint of tongue when he was sure he had her following his lead was sublime in ways it had no right to be. It shouldn’t have felt so right to kiss a stranger, especially not a kiss that had been forced upon her, but she couldn’t honestly that, if asked if she’d like another just like it, she would refuse him.

“Miss? Did you need a ride miss?” the driver was leaning across the passenger seat now, the window rolled down. Demetri pulled back to stare at her, tenderly caressing her cheek.

“Say no.” he coaxed.

She swallowed thickly. “No.”

“Are you sure?” the driver asked, his suspicion aroused. Demetri kept his eyes locked on hers, his mouth pressed together in the hopes she would say the right thing. He didn’t want to manipulate her again. Y/N had yet to blink, still mesmerised by his vibrantly red eyes and the soul-shocking feeling of his lips he guessed. He had felt it to, his whole body coming alive for what felt like the first time in all the millennia he’d been alive. The sweet ecstasy in his veins had replaced any thoughts of the thirst he was still minorly enduring and he wanted nothing more than to satiate his every need in her. Demetri wasn’t foolish enough to think she would so much as let him look at her for some time yet.

“Y-yes, sorry, we’ve got an uber coming.” She stammered, blinking herself out of the daze. Grumbling under his breath, the driver pulled away again, and Demetri only let her go when he was far enough out of sight it wouldn’t be a bother anymore if she decided to assault him again.

“Good, you did well. You have to-“ she cut him off with a sharp slap to the face, one that left minimal impact on him but made her cry out and cradle her hand close.

“Don’t you ever, kiss me without my permission again! Just who are you!” she demanded. Demetri frowned slightly. How was he supposed to tell her? If she knew anything about him, even his name, she would become a target the minute Aro read his thoughts. Hell, she was already a target. She’d seen him, been attacked by him. The shame that bloomed in his gut was almost too much to bear and he tensed under her angry glare. He hadn’t done this right at all and Demetri knew he would have a lot to make up for in the centuries to come if she accepted him. Right now…right now he had no choice but to make the situation worse.

“I need you to believe that I truly am sorry,” he said earnestly, “That this was not the way I wished to meet you, that I truly wish you no harm, but understand that I have no choice. I am bound by laws you have to yet understand and the consequences for breaking them are severe. You must come with me now - please do not fuss! I will make your comfort my utmost priority but I cannot leave you here for either of our sakes.” He reached for her hand but she snatched it back, face pale as she took a step away from him. Demetri felt his heart shatter. The physical rejection stung even if she had no clue what she had done.

“I’m not going anywhere with you you nutjob!” she snapped.

“We have no choice. Please do not make me force you.” Demetri pleaded. He didn’t want to lay a hand on his mate but the choices before them were simple. Either Y/N came with him now and travelled in comfort to Volterra with them, or someone else would be sent to fetch her before she could cause any damage to the Volturi, and they would be far less gentle.

“Force me? You’re off your meds, you – you have to be crazy to think I’d go anywhere with you!” she took another step back, and Demetri took one forward. His expression was nothing but sorrowful, the anguish obvious on his face. He really didn’t want to force her to do anything, but she really wasn’t making his life any easier. Granted, he had forced them both into this situation but surely the mate pull should have been enough for her to trust him at least a little? The fact she was to overwhelmed by her fear of him to feel it was heart-breaking. That she had already rejected him because she would rather fear him then know him…

“Please, please Y/N.” he whispered, extending a hand to her. She shook her head, ready to take off running again, and Demetri closed the gap between them with ease. His arm curled around her throat, his lips moving to her temple. She was so fragile and it took a lot of concentration he honestly didn’t have to cut off enough oxygen that she would pass out.

“Stop -ah!” she cried out, squirming in his grip. Demetri winced.

“I had no desire to hurt you. I am so sorry.” He whispered, voice wavering slightly. As she slumped in his grip he buried his nose in her hair, closing his eyes. He didn’t need to be a genius to know he had probably ruined everything with her before it had even began, but what could he do? He had no other viable option to him available, or he would have taken it in a heartbeat. He couldn’t stand the disapproving look on Felix’s face when he walked onto the jet with an unconscious woman in his arms.

“If you think I am listening to you play with your food all the way home-“

“She is not my food! She happens to be my mate, though I am sure when she wakes up she would much rather throw herself out of this jet than come anywhere near me.” He snapped. Felix remained oddly silent after his outburst, and with a heavy heart Demetri made sure she was settled in one of the plush leather chairs, her backpack within arms reach and a belt secure around her waist for the take off. Once he was sure she was safe in her seat he slammed the door shut and locked himself in the bathroom, desperate to clear his head of her dizzying scent and bring some clarity to the negative thoughts swarming him. Felix watched him go in mild astonishment. The tracker was usually the cool, calm, collected one of the group. He had never seen his old friend this upset before.

Demetri didn’t remerge from the bathroom by the time she woke up either, stirring slowly and scrunching her nose and eyes when the light hit her full force. Her eyes wandered right over him, not really registering the giant’s presence the first time around. Felix tilted his head when her head snapped back in his direction, her heart picking up in her chest and grip on the armrests tightening.

“I – wh-where are we? You, your eyes…” she breathed.

“I’m a vampire.” Felix told her bluntly. A snort escaped her before her hand slapped over her mouth. She had to take a minute to study him, see if he was lying.

“Your as crazy as your friend. Oh god…oh god where it the demented bastard?” she whispered, curling her knees up as tears welled in her eyes, “What’s h-he going to do to me?” Felix couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Would you like the short or the long version?” he asked.

She gulped. “Sh-short?”

“He’s going to turn you into one of us as the law demands and love you like no other man ever could for the rest of eternity.” Felix shrugged. It was amusing to him, how her jaw dropped open. She couldn’t hear the way Demetri growled at him to shut up from the bathroom. Her hands immediately scrabbled for the belt at her waist and his eyebrows rose.

“You’re all crazy!” she snapped.

“Where do you plan on going? It’s a long way down, little human.” He chuckled.

“The bathroom! Away from the crazy!” she cried. Felix’s laughter echoed about the jet.

“There’s a crazy man in the bathroom to.” he promised. Demetri appeared in a flash, his expression furious.

“Could you at least attempt to be courteous? She is terrified enough.” He hissed. The giant leaned back in his seat, looking thoroughly amused at the way she immediately swung her backpack into his face. “And will you stop hitting me with that bag!” he cried exasperatedly.

“You kidnapped me you freak!” she yelled.

“I did what I had to to save your life!”

“You were the one who put my life in danger! You – you –“

“Now now children play nicely.” Felix drawled. They both shot him frustrated looks, and he couldn’t hide his grin when he realised just how similar they appeared. He had no doubt that this rocky start was going to haunt Demetri for a while yet, if only because his mate seemed quite unwilling to let it go, and yet... Felix watched them argue with keen eyes, the pair going back and forth as Demetri quite honestly told her his motivation for the attack and subsequent kidnapping. Occasionally he would chime in with something witty only to be told to shut up, but it was quite obvious to him what neither of them seemed to notice what he did. With every angry word they seemed to smash through a barrier, the pair gravitating towards each other like magnets.

He doubted they’d last a week apart.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #volturi #demetri volturi #x female reader #demetri volturi x female reader #felix volturi #is living for the entertainment he's getting #poor demetri

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supersickies · 3 years

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Summary: "Steve absolutely wasn’t nervous. Compared to every intense and grueling Avengers mission he’s completed, taking care of a sick kid was a walk in the park right? Except when this sick kid was also one of the most precious things within Tony Stark’s life and if anything were to happen to this boy there’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that Tony would dump him in an instant.

So no, Steve was not nervous at all."

Tony has meetings, Steve has anxiety, and poor Peter just has a fever.

A/N: It’s Sicktember 2021! Very excited for this month and to see all of the amazing works! Not to mention it gives me an excuse and the motivation to write as many sickfics as I can! And let's see if I do because writer's block is too real right now :) Anyway thank you @sicktember for coming up with this month of prompts and I hope you all like this little fic! Read it here or click the link to read on AO3!

Steve absolutely wasn’t nervous. Compared to every intense and grueling Avengers mission he’s completed, taking care of a sick kid was a walk in the park right? Except when this sick kid was also one of the most precious things within Tony Stark’s life and if anything were to happen to this boy there’s no doubt in Steve’s mind that Tony would dump him in an instant.

So no, Steve was not nervous at all.

Tony, however, could see right through the false confidence.

“Relax, Stevie! Good lord, I can feel you panicking from over here.” Tony jokes as he enters the living room and gathers his briefcase and Stark gadgets for his day of meetings.

Steve jolts a bit as he looks up at Tony. “Huh? I-I’m not panicking.”

“You were just glaring daggers into Petey over there, hon.” Tony points out, to which Steve just shrugs with a blush. “There’s really no need to worry Cap, the kid is probably just gonna sleep and cough a bit until I’m back, alright? And if he wakes up and gets antsy or something just heat up some of the soup I made and throw on Adventure Time. Pete’s an easy kid, I swear.”

Steve stands from his chair with a deep breath and nods in understanding. Tony strides over to the super-soldier and takes his face in his hands. “There’s no one I trust more with Peter than you. Except maybe Pepper, but she can literally do everything.”

Steve laughs at that and bends down to give Tony a quick peck on the lips. They break apart so Tony can give Peter’s hair a quick ruffle. His hand pauses on the boy’s forehead as he gauges his fever. His lips quirk downward, he does not love the temperature the kids running at the moment.

With a sigh, he stands up and walks hand in hand with Steve to the elevator. “I think his fever went up, so just keep an eye on that. Friday is down for maintenance so you’ll probably want to wake him up in a bit to take his temperature manually.” The elevator doors open and the super couple shares one last peck before Tony steps in. “I’m just thirty floors down! You’re gonna do great! I love you both!” Tony calls as the doors close and suddenly Steve is alone. Well, save for the snoring spider-teen on the couch.

Steve wanders back to the living room, nervously glancing at Peter as he does. The poor kid is basically in the exact opposite of his regular state. On a normal day, Peter was a bright ball of action, seemingly unable to stop talking or moving at all. But that wasn’t the Peter he saw now.

Instead, this Peter was silent. Sick. There’s an eerie ambiance in the air and Steve hates it.

So, to quell the weird vibe, he turns the tv to TCM, (un-ironically his favorite channel as the rest of the team loved to tease him about) and sets it at a low volume so he doesn’t wake the kid.

He’s just about to the end of an old western film when he hears Peter groan and shuffle around on the couch. The sick teen sits up wearily, his hair a mess and his eyes unfocused. Not to mention his cheeks are deeply flushed with fever, which has clearly gotten worse in the last forty-five minutes.

“S’eve?” Peter slurs as he spots the super solider.

Steve’s focus quickly turns to the kid, who looks undoubtedly sicker. “Hey, Pete. How you feeling, pal?” Stupid question, Rogers. He thinks to himself.

Peter sniffs and shivers with sudden chills. “Mm, n-not v’ry good.” His voice cracks as tears fill to his eyes. His sleep-addled brain catching up to and feeling the full effect of his feverish achy body. He can’t stop his breath as it hitches and the tears spill over. It just hurts so much.

Steve’s up and at the boy’s side almost inhumanly fast, doing his best to comfort him. Unfortunately, he’s no expert on Peter care (i.e, he’s not Tony). If there’s one thing he does know, however, is that you can never go wrong playing with the kid’s hair, which Steve had quickly learned by watching his boyfriend. And while Tony was the “Peter scalp massage pro”, Peter definitely wasn’t picky about who or how. The kid simply just wanted his hair touched.

So Steve did just that. The larger man was relieved to find that the action had the desired effect—Peter had calmed almost instantly, curling up against Steve’s side— but the super soldier was quickly fulled with nerves again as he felt the nearly scalding heat coming from the kid.

When Peter had relaxed enough, Steve grabbed the thermometer Tony had left on the coffee table. Peter spots the machine in Steve’s hand and opens his mouth, accustomed to the routine after being sick all day yesterday as well.

With the thermometer under his tongue, Peter lets his eyes close as they wait for the reading to be done. When it is, Peter lightly jumps at the beep before burrowing back into Steve’s side as the blonde takes the thermometer back and reads its results.

And while Peter looks peaceful once again, Steve is panicking. 103.5. Steve’s not a scientist but he knows that’s not a good temperature for the body to be.

“Friday can you- ah.” Oh, right. Steve remembers that the AI was down for maintenance. Instead, he looks around for his phone, ready to research exactly what he should do for a kid with a near brain-melting fever.

Steve bites the inside of his cheek as he, again, remembers. He doesn’t have a phone right now, as he sat with his last one in his back pocket and it cracked in half. He and Tony had laughed themselves to tears when it happened.

Steve wasn’t laughing now.

He’s thrown back into the moment as Peter groans again, another intense chill running through the kid’s frame. Poor kid must be freezing, Steve thinks.

Freezing.

With that realization, Steve is taken back to his teen years. The years he spent consistently sick and feverish like Peter is now. The years his Ma used to keep him in bed for days, wrapped in every blanket they had in their house.

Blankets!

Steve suddenly remembers how to treat a high fever. You sweat it out, duh. With a tiny smile at the memory of his Ma, he stands from the couch carefully and heads to Tony’s linen closet. He spots a soft looking quilt beside a thick fluffy throw and grabs the two, knowing that when paired with the blanket the kid was already wrapped in they would make the perfect fever banishing covers.

Peter is almost back to sleep when Steve returns, but he hears the man's footsteps and his eyes open again. Steve makes quick work of unfolding the blankets and laying them over Peter. The kid hums, content with the warmth of the added blanked combating his chills, and falls swiftly to sleep. It makes Steve smile, pleased with his ability to care for the sick spidering.

Steve was feeling pretty confident that Tony was going to be just as pleased.

______

Tony Stark was far from pleased.

He had excused himself from his meeting after an hour, intent on checking Peter’s vitals on his phone through the watch the boy wore on his wrist.

What he saw was less than ideal. In fact, it was terrifying. 104.3 should be Peter’s physics grade after perfectly completing extra credit for fun, not his kid’s body temperature. The mechanic bolts to the nearest elevator, paying no mind to the white-collar assholes who awaited his return. They didn’t matter, not when his kid’s brain was melting thirty floors up.

“Steve!” He shouts when the elevator doors finally open to the penthouse. The blonde jumps when he hears his name and his eyes widen as he sees his panicked boyfriend sprinting towards him.

“Tony wha-?”

“Where’s Peter, Steve? Where is he— is he okay?”

Still a bit flustered, Steve just points to the sleeping boy on the couch, still wrapped in the thick blankets. When Tony sees him, his eyes only go wider.

“What, are you trying to fucking roast him?” Tony asks, exasperated. Before Steve can answer, Tony begins removing the blankets from his kid. Cringing at the heat that wafts out from them as they go.

“I-I- his fever got higher! I was trying to help him sweat it out!” Steve stumbles through his explanation.

“Sweat it out? Jesus fuck what are you from the thir- oh my god you’re from the thirties.” Tony halts with the realization. Steve Rogers was borderline a complete stranger to modern medicine and comes from an era of absolute batshit home remedies. The man smoked cigarettes for his asthma for fucks sake.

“Okay, alrighty then. Steve do me a favor and go start a lukewarm bath for me please.” Tony orders in about the most anxiously calm voice Steve had ever heard.

“Okay but Tony-“

“Now please, Steven.” Tony demands once more. Steve gets the memo, fast, and quickly heads to Tony’s bathroom.

Shit.

_____

After a quick dip in the tub and a quick anxiety attack from Tony, Peter’s temperature is back down to a less dangerous level. He’s sat back on the couch in the lightest t-shirt and boxers he owns, sipping ice water through a straw with a fever patch stuck to his forehead. Maybe it was overkill, but you couldn’t tell Tony that.

When the boy's eyes begin to droop Tony takes the water from his hands and helps him lay back down.

“Comfy, bubba?” He asked in a hushed tone. Peter just nods and yawns as he closes his eyes and quickly drifts back to sleep. “Get some more sleep bud.” He hums softly, laying a thin—thin—blanket over his kid.

Steve watches the pair from afar, afraid to step in or offer any more “help”. He doubts Tony will even want to look at him after what he’s done. Which is why when Tony stands and turns to him, he immediately tenses. He’s ready to be yelled at, cursed at, probably dumped.

“C’mere.” Tony says, opening his arms to Steve, inviting him into a hug. The blonde is shocked, sure, but he accepts the hug quickly, silently thinking it could be his last with the man he’s come to love so much.

“Again, Stevie, I can hear you overthinking.” Tony mumbles against his boyfriend's shoulder. He pulls away from the hug and takes the man's hands, looking up at him. “All things considered, you did nothing wrong, hon.”

“Tony I just-“

“You just did what you thought was right. You didn’t know any better Steve.” Tony rebuts before Steve can even finish.

“I’m just…I’m really sorry Tony. You trusted me with your most important person and— I fucked up bad.” Steve apologizes.

“Woah there big guy!” Tony’s brows shoot up at the apology. “First off, language mister.” Tony teases, it makes Steve blush and a hint of a smile ghosts his lips. Tony sees that as a win. “Second, yes, you’re correct. Peter is incredibly important to me. He’s my kid, but you are my Steve!” Tony emphasizes, shaking Steve’s shoulders a bit as if it will help get the point across. “You are incredibly important to me too! You made a mistake, and guess what Steve, that’s human— you’re human!”

Steve smiles sadly and nods before looking back at Peter’s sleeping form on the couch, just double-checking that the kid was truly fine.

Tony huffs lightly, using his fingers to softly move Steve’s head so he’s looking at him again. “Look at me, love. Peter’s fine, you’re fine, I’m fine, and we are fine. Okay?”

Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes with a smile. “Okay.” He confirms quietly. He can feel Tony’s hands move to cup the sides of his cheeks as he’s brought into a deep kiss. It quells all of his anxieties. Tony is here, with him, and he’s not going anywher-

“Eeugh, y-you guys ‘re cute and stuff, but the PDA ’s kinda makin’ me nauseous.” Peter’s voice breaks their kiss. Both Avengers turn to the kid, their faces about as red as his feverish cheeks after getting caught.

Tony snorts. “Oh come on kiddie!” Tony pulls Steve’s face closer to his again, this time just peppering kisses across his face. “A man can’t show his boyfriend some love?”

The older men laugh until they hear a legitimate gag from Peter. “N-no I’m serious Mr. Stark—“ Gag. “I’m really nauseous.”

“Steven grab a trash can.” Tony prompts, the same anxiously calm demeanor back in his voice as before.

Steve wastes no time, sprinting to the closest receptacle. “On it!”

#sicktember #sicktember 2021 #sick peter parker #stevetony #iron dad #sickfic

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heretherebedork · 3 years

Note

The Battle is back! And the Pining is back too! This time, the contestants are reshuffled and you, will decide who pines better and meets your standard. And the contestants are:

Kongpob vs. Bbomb

Mhok vs. Fiat

Kaeng vs. Mon

Kurosawa vs. Na

Third vs. Aey

Un vs. Chon

Mark vs. Pok

Puth vs. Tue

Kim Taehyung (Ryu's Wedding) vs. Sanha (Mr. Heart)

Pete (DBK) vs. Tann

Sarawat vs. Cairo

Mork vs. Fighter

Haoting vs. YongJie

Mek vs. Wayo (2moons2)

Forth vs. Thanu

Tri vs. Prab

Yu Hao (CTL) vs. Lichen

Shide vs. Nubsib

Ae vs. Tew (SOTUS S)

Kao (Oxygen) vs. Solo

Ming (2moons2) vs. Tum

Mes vs. In (UWMA)

Ram vs. Boss

Jedi (Close Friend) vs. Zon

Blue vs. Team (Y-Destiny)

Pi vs. Tsuge

Yeon Woo (Color Rush) vs. Jack (Trapped)

Man vs. Shin (3willbeFree)

Kang Gook vs. Ryu Ho Seon (Ryu's Wedding)

Tin vs. Kengkla

Mark (En of Love) vs. Wayu (Gen Y)

Phai (Gen Y) vs. Hin (LBC2)

Goodluck!!

Kongpob vs. Bbomb

This is a cruel, cruel choice. I love both of these boys so much and they have such similar stories and they work so well in their shows and I just love them so much. But I had to go with Kongpob in the end because, honestly, he had more room to pine because he's had so much more show to work with. But Bbomb is catching up quick with this last episode.

Mhok vs. Fiat

Fiat is just so good at pining. I just can't. Mhok got better in the special but he wasn't a good piner before that. He was much more toxic then Fiat ever was because Fiat was just going to hide away and never, ever talk about his feelings instead. So Fiat has to win. I love a piner who's willing to pine themselves away.

Kaeng vs. Mon

How do I choose?!? They're both so different at pining and so adorable and I love them both deeply in their own way. I think I have to go with Kaeng based on my four pillars of pining because he really does the best of filling them... sort of? They're both adorable, damnit.

Kurosawa vs. Na

Sorry, Na. Love you! But Kurosawa pretty much always wins. I cannot deny him anything. He always wins because he's the cutest and the softest and the most loving ever. So he wins without hesitation. Sorry! Love Na, though.

Third vs. Aey

This was hard but for the opposite reason of most of the others. Ugh. I went with Third because, I mean, pining? All the boy did was pine and cry in showers uselessly. Aey might have been pining but he was also too severely damaged to really pine in an enjoyable or healthy way.

Un vs. Chon

DAMN. This choice is interesting. I really do like Un's small and soft pining. But Chon. CHON. I love Chon so much and his tiny relationship trajectory and his adorableness. Plus, his pining is just fantastic.

Mark vs. Pok

Mark went more with pursuit than pining so I'm gonna give this to Pok. Pok gets to fuck Tong AND pine and it's absolutely fascinating honestly. I love him. Please let Gen Y season 2 exist sooner rather than later. I just want more of their mess!

Puth vs. Tue

... This is a rough choice because, honestly, I'm not sure how good either of their pining is. I went with Puth because he was pretty cute with Payu but it was still barely pining, honestly. And Tue is just... man, they were basically together in like 5 minutes y'all.

Kim Taehyung (Ryu's Wedding) vs. Sanha (Mr. Heart)

I gotta give it to Sanha. That boy's the happiest piner I've ever seen and he deserved all the joy in the world when he finally got his man. Taehyung was adorable and historical himbo beauty and he really was grand... but Sanha, yo, Sanha.

Pete (DBK) vs. Tann

Gotta give it to Tann. I gotta! He met him in university, never said anything and then managed to fall into him a second time. And got his adorable happy ending but with the perfect drama. Love a man who gets his man.

Sarawat vs. Cairo

I just don't like Sarawat that much. I also don't buy his pining. Sorry, y'all. Cairo was at least cute and I believed all of his emotions and all his feelings and his wants and needs and such. But Wat? Nope.

Mork vs. Fighter

No one loses to Mork. No one, ever, loses to Mork. It's impossible to lose a pining battle to a cardboard cutout. I would pick a character I didn't know over Mork. But I don't have to because I got Fighter! And I love Fighter! And Fighter's relationship with Tutor and his desperate pining and his need to get closer while still avoiding his feelings at all cost... I love him so much.

Haoting vs. YongJie

I am going with HaoTing despite my poor memory re: MODC because I remember adoring him and, frankly, YongJie made a better pursuer than piner because he was going to Get What He Wanted no matter what.

Mek vs. Wayo (2moons2)

I love Mek. I love Mek more than I should ever be allowed. Mek wins. Mek wins and I will miss him forever and ever and ever and ever and I love him. Sorry, Wayo. Also, Wayo, you're just a biiiit too much for my taste in the useless department. Sorry.

Forth vs. Thanu

Thanu can go to hell. At least Forth was cute and ended up happy. Thanu is just obnoxious.

Tri vs. Prab The Twins (Mab and Mob)

Ughhhhhh, do I have to chose? They both suck. The twins were the best piners in Brothers. So I declare them the winners instead! Sorry. Twins win!!!

Yu Hao (CTL) vs. Lichen

This one is close. But Lichen's soft and sad acceptance that he was just going to pine after Muren wins this for me. Yu Hao was adorable and wonderful, no denials. But Lichen's soft acceptance of his rejection? Was so good.

Shide vs. Nubsib

Another hard one! I wnet with ShiDe because his pining included a willingness to never have anything while Nubsib was like 'mine, this is going to be MINE and I will never give it up'. And I love pining that's willing to be unreciprocated.

Ae vs. Tew (SOTUS S)

I had to do Ae because, honestly, I don't remember Tew at all. SOTUS S is on my rewatch list for summer, okay? Promise! Also I love Ae and his feral demisexuality.

Kao (Oxygen) vs. Solo

I had to go with Kao. Kao's pining and pursuit are my favorite in the show. He learns to love bunnies! Come on! Solo was adorable and I love him and Gui deeply but Kao and Phu became my favorite.

Ming (2moons2) vs. Tum

Ming wins. Mings so hard it almost hurts. I love Ming, I love MingKit, I love boys who can melt a tsundere heart and I love a melted tsundere so much it almost hurts. Plus, Ming does a great job of pining and flirting.

Mes vs. In (UWMA)

In is not a piner. In is the opposite of a piner. In does not pine. In walks up to a guy everyone says is dangerous and asks him out on a date. Anyone wins over In because In doesn't pine. But Mes is also adorable.

Ram vs. Boss

This one is hard. I don't actually consider Boss to be a good piner. I feel like he missed the mark, especially in comparision to Mek. But Ram also isn't the most pining of characters. Though he definitely does better than Boss. So Ram it is!

Jedi (Close Friend) vs. Zon

I had to go with Jedi because Zon is more pursued than pining. He does do some, no denial. But Jedi is the best and adorable about his whole pining and every time he sees Ray he turns into a tiny incoherent creature of nothing but want and need. Love. LOVE>

Blue vs. Team (Y-Destiny)

I miss Blue. I wish we'd gotten a special for that couple as well as the SaifanZon special, honestly. Because they deserved so much better than COVID gave them. Also, Team

Pi vs. Tsuge

Tsuge wins. He was so adorable and useless. Just adorable. And his love of cats and delivery boys and awkwardness and the fact that, in the end, he learned how to communicate... I love him so much, okay?

Yeon Woo (Color Rush) vs. Jack (Trapped)

Gotta go with Color Rush every time. Jack is adorable but Yeon Woo wins all pining wars. Ugh, the pining in that show. So good. Such a god show.

Man vs. Shin (3willbeFree)

Nearly impossible choice. But I love and miss Shin, okay? He deserves this. He was so soft and so in love and so unsure and he deserved in in every way.

Kang Gook vs. Ryu Ho Seon (Ryu's Wedding)

I gotta give it to Kang Gook. He was willing to give up so much and so willing to just keep going and just... yeah. Sorry. I gotta give it to him.

Tin vs. Kengkla

KENGKLA IS CANCELED FOREVER. Tin wins because he is both adorable and absolutely useless. I mean, breaking Can's phone just to get his phone number? SO GOOD. So stupid. I love it so much. Also, Kengkla can burn in hell.

Mark (En of Love) vs. Wayu (Gen Y)

This was hard. But I had to go with Wayu. I just... I had to give this to him, okay? He's cute and he's soft and he might be useless and their relationship was never that great but like... he's cute? And healthier than Mark. I dunno, I never loved Mark.

Phai (Gen Y) vs. Hin (LBC2)

This one was rough. But I gotta give to Hin. I mean, damn. DAMN. I love Hin. And I love his story. And Phai just ended up in such a mess... Oof. At least Hin came to his adorable pining senses.

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petekaos · 3 years

Text

the beautiful thing is that dark blue kiss and gaya sa pelikula go hand in hand.

this is not to undermine anything either of these shows have done — rather to simply appreciate the similarities and parallels these two shows share and the influence that they have on the lgbt community watching these shows. in different ways, in different writing styles, and in different filming, they transfer the same core messages onto screen. it’s stunning how similar they are and how knowledge and closer analysis on one provides one with more insight on the other, both plot wise and concerning the characters’ motivations.

this becomes clear in episode seven of gaya sa pelikula especially. of course we have all of these small parallels between petekao and vladkarl; for example both of them messing around by the sink and washing dishes together, or holding hands under the table as a sign of support, or transferring food onto each other’s plates in front of family as one protests, or the beautiful setup that vlad had arranged for karl, or the pink lights reflecting onto their kiss, or going underwater to kiss, etc etc etc. i could go on and on about these small parallels, but it really is the broad character strokes that got to me.

vlad and pete share so many similarities. both of them are out, are more or less financially okay, and both of them have been deeply hurt or traumatised by different things. vlad has been hurt by his father and ex-boyfriend in the past, leading him to believe he isn’t worthy of anyone staying and therefore developing abandonment issues. isn’t pete the same? losing his mother and sister and turning to violence took a huge toll on him, also leading him to develop self-worth and abandonment issues, especially after non came into the picture. both of them want to love the boys that they love loudly and proudly — neither of them are ashamed of their sexuality. vlad has had time to come to terms with it and accept that part of himself, and pete doesn’t feel the need to prove himself or compensate for his sexuality. both of them just want to live a proud life with the boys that they love without apologising, but they are ready — if you dismiss outside influence (in the case of vlad, judit and tito sants, and in the case of pete, non) — to adjust to be with who they love.

karl and kao... where to start. my heart aches for the both of them. generally, the fears that they share are the same. both of them aren’t out to family and also need to financially support themselves through their skills, writing in karl’s case and teaching in kao’s. while karl is still discovering himself, however, kao has already been in a relationship with pete for three years during dbk. while he has had time to accept his sexuality, much like karl, he isn’t ready to tell the world yet. neither of them are ready, and they panic when faced with the prospect of people knowing. there’s something different, isn’t there? about knowing yourself and putting it out there into the world. both of them get outed, essentially, and have seemingly no-one to help them through it. but the love they have for the other person is evident. it’s apparent in the way that kao sets all of that up for their anniversary, helps pete with his presentations, slips in notes for the exam, gives him medicine. it’s apparent in the way that karl stares at vlad like he’s his whole world in the mornings, how he breaks free of what he’s been telling himself his whole life to allow himself this happiness, sets up all of that for his birthday, makes a home with him. they may not be ready to love proudly yet — but they will be.

the general themes are the same. both shows are written by gay men and it is absolutely evident through the care that runs through the fine thread of both of them. pete and vlad are out, karl and kao aren’t. pete and vlad are more or less financially set, karl and kao aren’t. all of them have been deeply hurt and traumatised. it’s about growing, about learning, about adjusting and compromising and supporting. it’s about taking your time to come out, and the effect that outside influences such as characters like non, judit, and tito sants can have on a relationship, the strain that can be put on it when you’re not on the same page. it’s about taking back your own story. it’s about giving yourself a happy ending. it’s about the journey of getting there at all — the trials and tribulations of it, the falling and the flying, and the reassurance that no matter what, at the end of the day you come home. you have a space here. you belong. this is what both of these shows tell lgbt audiences, this is what it feels like watching these shows: like coming home. like knowing you belong. like finally seeing that you are the main character of your story. this is their impact, in different levels and ways.

both shows complement one another beautifully. and as juan miguel severo, the writer of gsp, said about episode seven of gaya sa pelikula in particular:

thank you, gaya sa pelikula and dark blue kiss 💛

#dark blue kiss #dbk #petekao #gaya sa pelikula #like in the movies #vladkarl #gsp #juan miguel severo #anyway got a little emotional and missed half the things probably #both of these shows mean the world to me!#rahul.txt

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astrognossienne · 3 years

Text

tragic star: keith moon

“If you don't like it, you can fuck off!” - last words of Keith Moon

This one was a long time coming, but frankly, it took me a while to get interested enough in the subject to actually do this analysis, let alone finish it. At any rate, Keith Moon, like most of the drummers from the rock ‘n’ roll period that we still read about today, led a self-destructive lifestyle. A close friend of his once said the drummer was “like a train ride you couldn’t stop.” Not only was his drumming chaotic – so was his life. According to some, he was at his core a kind and generous soul, but to others, he was lost, lonely soul, and terribly immature throughout his adult life. Perhaps it was the sudden success, upon joining the rock band The Who, when he was only 18 (although plenty of others of the same era were as young, or younger, and survived just fine), but Keith was so eager to please and make everyone laugh that he eventually became the “Moon the Loon” character that he was portrayed as in the media. It got to the point where he wasn't sure who he really was. A true Leo, he made a circus out of everything and he wouldn't walk into any room and just listen. He was an attention seeker and he had to have it. He used amphetamines, tranquilizers, drank way too much alcohol, destroyed hotel rooms and friends’ homes, threw TVs into swimming pools, set fires, and the list goes on. He was ultimately unable to outrun or outlast his demons; whether it was the wife and child he drove away, the friend and chauffeur he accidentally killed in early 1970...whatever else haunted him, it ultimately caught up with him just as he was finally trying to improve his life. Friends were well-acquainted with the many sides to Moon’s strange personality; one minute he was insulting, exaggerating, joking – the next minute he’s a wide-eyed, innocent-looking drummer boy. The public Keith Moon was The Who’s manic drummer and hellraising, daredevil comedian; a man who only ever lived in the moment. However, the real Keith Moon was a son, a brother, a father and a deeply insecure man. A man of extremes, his was a complete shitshow of a life.

Keith Moon, according to astrotheme, was a Leo sun and Cancer moon (the moon is speculative). Moon was born to working class parents in Wembley, London, England. He was a hyperactive child by nature and a mediocre student at school. His art teacher said in a report: "Retarded artistically. Idiotic in other respects". His music teacher wrote that Moon "has great ability, but must guard against a tendency to show off." At the age of 12, he had joined the Sea Cadet Corp and was given his first musical instrument, the bugle. He left school by 15 and was in his first band, The Beachcombers. While performing with the Beachcombers, he used to attend concerts of a band called The Detours. At that time The Detours were planning to sign a deal with Fontana Records and for this deal, this band required a new drummer. The Detours changed their name to The Who in 1964. When Moon learned about the band’s need for a new drummer, he approached them for an audition. After the audition, he became their new drummer, and performed with The Who for the first time in 1962.

From the moment he joined, musically the band was complete, although adding his already volatile personality to those of the other three equally headstrong members meant that the early years of the Who's career were fraught with drama and violence, despite their almost immediate success. Much of the tension came from the fact that Keith readily joined in on popping pills with guitarist Pete Townshend and bassist John Entwistle, while lead singer Roger Daltrey (with whom Keith was never particularly close) didn't. After sacking Roger for two weeks in mid-1965, he was reinstated, band relations improved, and the Who continued to release a string of successful singles and albums before a downturn in their fortunes in 1968. However, the release of the album Tommy in 1969 turned them into international megastars overnight and from that moment until the day Keith died, they would remain one of the top rock bands in the world. Running concurrently with the Who's rise to stardom in the 1960s was Keith's relationship with his wife Kim. She first met Keith in 1965 when he was 19 and she 15, and while they fell in love rather quickly, he exhibited twin streaks of jealousy and insecurity and Moon was occasionally violent towards Kim. While his mental issues, which would now be readily (and correctly) diagnosed as a combination of ADHD and BPD, reared their ugly heads on innumerable occasions, Keith's true personality shone through enough that Kim stayed with him; she decided to marry him when she became pregnant within a year of dating, and they got married in 1966. Their daughter Amanda was born on 12 July. In those days, there was a belief that married rockstars with kids weren’t as appealing to their mostly female fans, and the marriage (and child) were kept secret from the press until May 1968. He loved his daughter, but his absences due to touring and fondness for practical jokes made their relationship uneasy when she was very young. "He had no idea how to be a father", Kim said. "He was too much of a child himself."

The chaotic sixties would not hold a candle to what the new decade had in store for him, however. Shortly after New Year’s in 1970, Moon accidentally killed his friend, driver and bodyguard, Neil Boland, outside the Red Lion pub in Hatfield, Hertfordshire. Pub patrons had begun to attack his Bentley; Moon, drunk, began driving to escape them. During the fracas, he hit Boland. After an investigation, the coroner ruled Boland's death an accident; Moon, having been charged with a number of offences, received an absolute discharge. Those close to Moon said that he was haunted by Boland's death for the rest of his life. Moon had nightmares about the incident and said he had no right to be alive. Also, compounding this tragedy, was the fragile state of Moon’s marriage. Even after marriage and his daughter being born, he was still jealous, self-centered, and abusive to his wife Kim, both verbally and physically. His mental state also deteriorated as his appetite for all manner of pills escalated and he exploded into a full-blown alcoholic. Even after separating for a year, Kim returned to him, hoping that he had finally changed, but the insane lifestyle Keith kept up at their house became too much. Kim and Amanda (nicknamed “Mandy”) finally left for good in 1973. Since his marriage was a central part of Keith's life, their divorce would come to affect him perhaps more than any other event in his adult life and it was a devastation Keith would never recover from. While most people would use an event like this as the impetus to clean up their act, Keith used it instead as an excuse to drive himself further into oblivion.

Moon's lifestyle began to undermine not only his health but his career. During the 1973 Quadrophenia tour, at the Who's debut US date, Moon ingested a mixture of tranquilizers and brandy. During the concert, Moon passed out on his drum kit during the song "Won't Get Fooled Again." The band stopped playing, and a group of roadies carried Moon offstage. After he was given a shower and an injection of cortisone, he was sent back onstage. Moon passed out again during "Magic Bus," and was again removed from the stage. The band continued without him for several songs before Pete Townshend asked, "Can anyone play the drums? – I mean somebody good?" A fan in the audience, who happened to be a drummer, came up and played the rest of the show. During the opening date of the band's March 1976 US tour at the Boston Garden, Moon passed out again over his drum kit after two numbers and the show was rescheduled. By the mid-1970s Keith was living in Los Angeles and getting up to even more insanity with John Lennon, Ringo Starr, Harry Nilsson, and other stars. Even a new love in his life, Swedish model Annette Walter-Lax, couldn't get him to slow down and take control. There were even stints in psychiatric wards after some mental breakdowns brought on by his despair at losing Kim and his daughter and his drinking. His alcohol and drug abuse was now not only affecting his health (he put on a significant amount of weight at this time due to infrequent gigging) but sadly, his drumming. In 1978 soon after he recorded Who Are You, his final album with The Who, depressed by the deterioration of his drumming and threats from the rest of the Who to clean up his act or else, that he finally decided to get some help. By the summer of 1978, he seemed to be trying to get his life in order, staying sober and solidifying his relationship with Annette. He was terrified to go into rehab or under psychiatric evaluation, however, and instead self-medicated with Heminevrin, a drug used for treating acute withdrawal from alcohol. However, he took too many on his final night and sadly died on September 7, 1978 at the age of 32.

Over forty years after his death, it's still difficult to think of Keith Moon as anything more than just a hard-drinking insane rock star who would smash his drum set on stage or destroy a hotel room. But regardless of the human being behind the drumkit, the legendary drummer should be remembered as the man who forever changed the sound of rock 'n' roll.

Next, I’ll go back to my beloved star analyses by covering a personal favourite of mine; a force of nature and an unsung pioneer of cinema whose death was ridiculously sensationalized and whose colourful life was almost as wild as Moon’s: Cancer Lupe Vélez

Stats

birthdate: August 23, 1946*

*note*: due to the absence of a birth time, this analysis will be even more speculative.

major planets:

Sun: Leo

Moon: Cancer

Rising: unknown

Mercury: Leo

Venus: Libra

Mars: Libra

Midheaven: unknown

Jupiter: Libra

Saturn: Leo

Uranus: Gemini

Neptune: Libra

Pluto: Leo

Overall personality snapshot: He may sometimes have wanted a safe, simple life where he felt emotionally contained and able to pursue his own creative interests. Then, however, the compulsion to strive for a more central, leading role reared its challenging head, and he knew he had it in him – so out into the spotlight he went. So immense was his creative energy as well as his warm feeling for others that he could become both the artistic home-maker and the home-loving artist/writer/entrepreneur. His personality was large and welcoming, colourful and theatrical because he had such an uncanny knack of dramatizing his vivid impressions and selling himself in the most genuine, heartfelt way. Both the paternal and the maternal urge was strong in him. He needed to use his will to project and establish your identity in the world, and to use his instincts to nurture and protect his emotional and material security. The Sun and the Moon are in their ‘home’ signs here, so that potentially he had the creative vision of Apollo and the lunar wisdom of Diana all rolled into one. This could make him pretty overpowering at times, and indeed he needed a partner and a family on whom he could lavish his emotions. His bearing was often aristocratic, sometimes haughty, oversensitive and self-absorbed, but he always seemed to have enough affection to go around so that no one felt left out. He also managed to remain approachable and compassionate because he was so aware of his own vulnerability and need to be loved. Thus he made a warm and understanding friend, and he enjoyed expressing his feelings with original flair and thoughtfulness.

He was protective, possessive and clannish, a stalwart member of his family, group and nation, and utterly devoted to his ideals. Deeply honourable and dependable, he brought an attitude of devotion and romantic style to all he did. He may have actually had a good head for business because he possessed an instinctive knowledge of security needs as well as a shrewd understanding of people, their desires, fears and foibles. His refined taste for comfort and beauty was part of the impetus for success – he knew his own mind and did not easily budge from his preferences and high standards. Aesthetic sensitivity was strong, and combined with his innate tenacity and quiet ambition means that he was quite successful in the arts. Even though he readily turned a bright face to the world, he did not always feel confident and strong. He had a lively sense of individuality, but his potency was sometimes too dependent on emotional familiarity, and the range of his self-expression too circumscribed within repetitive emotional patterns. Inwardly he shied away from encounters with the big, bad world, and early in life he may have needed to find ways of handling challenges that normally push the panic button. This wouldn’t have been hard for him because his creative drive was tremendous and his individuality needed recognition.

He was ambitious, sound at giving orders, carried responsibility well and was a good teacher, especially able to bring out the best in children. He believed in herself and generally knew the right thing to say at the right time, although he could show a stubborn and dogmatic side. He had a high opinion of his mental powers, and it was certainly true to say that he had plenty of mental energy. He was quite sociable and expected other people to behave well at all times. He was eager for close personal relationships, so he tended to have a wide circle of friends. Self-indulgence was a problem for him, as was laziness and conceit in relationships. He tended to be impatient with superficial details, preferring large-scale situations, and he disliked being tied down by obligations over which he had little control. Conservatism may have affected his creativity, artistic values and love affairs. This expressed itself as self-imposed restrictions or as selfishness. He often felt inadequate, which created an insidious form of oppression over all his forms of expression. He could also take herself so seriously, that people think that he was older than his years.

He was part of a generation that was strongly interested in humanitarian ideals, new avenues of communication and progress in mechanical skills. As a member of this generation, he was able to bring original ideas to both his career and spare-time interests. Crises in thought and ideology arose because he looked beyond tradition and old attitudes towards new original and inventive ways of looking at things. His active mind tended to need constant stimulation and his tastes could be quite fickle and difficult to satisfy. He belonged to a time of peace-loving idealism when the family unit and the way relationships were managed underwent great changes. He could be too idealistic and a little unrealistic when it came to matters of love, sex and romance. As a member of this generation, he tended to need to be motivated to make the most of his potential, because the line of least resistance appeared very attractive, especially when it involved pleasure-seeking. He embodied the Libra Neptune generation in the sense that he was a huge part of a time when beauty reappeared in fashion. He was part of a generation which was highlighted by the clash between authoritarianism and individualism. As a member of the Leo Plutonian generation, he wanted freedom in his relationships and demanded the loyalty of his friends as a right. As a member of this generation, he wanted power over his own life and was prepared to challenge established structures. He didn’t feel comfortable being dictated to, unless he in some way agreed to it beforehand. He was a part of excesses of the sixties. He was part of a generation that brought about a revolution in forms of entertainment, recreational activities and leisure time, as well as attitudes towards children.

Love/sex life: He was a lover so in love with the idea of love that nothing else matters. At times his whole-hearted idealism made him too optimistic and too easily deceived by people who promised to fulfill his ideals and then renege but, as delicate and unworldly as his romantic fantasy may seem, it was remarkably durable. Though he may have been misused and hurt, he never lost his faith in the power of true love. Issues of the flesh were always secondary to him and he was apt not to give them much thought. If such urges must be satisfied, then so be it. If sex proved useful in reaching other goals, that was fine too. As long as sex did not intrude on his ideal of perfect love such physical inconveniences hardly mattered. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the world did not agree with him on this point and, measured by their standards, his sexual behaviour may have seemed immoral or at least strangely naïve. He needed to learn to allow for such harsh realities even as he strove to create that grand idyll of perfect love.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Gemini

Lilith: Capricorn

Juno: Libra

Chiron: Libra

Vesta: Aries

Ceres: Aquarius

Pallas: Sagittarius

His North Node in Gemini dictated that he needed to prevent his idealism from influencing his thoughts to such a high degree. He needed to consciously develop a more clear-minded and analytical approach involving his thought processes. His Lilith in Capricorn dictated that he was dangerously attracted to women who had a scrappy plucky attitude hot-wired into their psyche. Against his better judgment, he liked to be around a woman who needed to be in control and to be mistress of her own destiny, because her life was in the control of not-so-well-meaning others as a child. Juno in Libra, he sought a mate who was harmonious, artistic, musical and intelligent. He liked beauty and balance at home. He believed in equal partnerships where all lived up to the letter of the law. Chiron in Libra, he often felt wounded in relationships and could wound others in retaliation. He may have felt he was constantly hurt or rejected in relationships. Through learning that he was whole on his own, he could have freed himself from this destructive pattern. He would have benefited from a partner that could have helped him heal in some way. Vesta in Aries, he was incline to initiate work for religious and humanitarian projects. Action came from a desire to improve every situation. There was a great deal of insecurity in self-evaluation. Ceres in Aquarius, at his best, he had tact and the ability to compromise, making him well liked by all. Pallas in Sagittarius, he had the ability to evaluate true personal worth enabling him to use his resources in the most advantageous ways. Other people may think he was lucky. Ideally speaking, he could have been generally positive instead of being wasteful, and he could have been confident and reliable. Nonetheless, he still used his ideas in a practical way, especially in his career.

elemental dominance:

air

fire

He was communicative, quick and mentally agile, and he liked to stir things up. He was likely a havoc-seeker on some level. He was oriented more toward thinking than feeling. He carried information and the seeds of ideas. Out of balance, he lived in his head and could be insensitive to the feelings of others. But at his best, he helped others form connections in all spheres of their daily lives. He was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. He generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. He was exciting to be around, because he was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, he could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Confident and opinionated, he was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because he was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—he was bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at his best, his confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves.

modality dominance:

cardinal

He was happiest when he was doing anything new, and he loved to begin new ventures. He enjoyed the challenge of claiming territory. He tended to be an initiator—and a bit territorial as well. Also, he had a tendency to start more things than she could possibly finish.

planet dominants:

Moon

Sun

Venus

He was defined by his inner world; by his emotional reactions to situations, how emotions flowed through him, motivating and compelling him—or limiting him and holding him back. He held great capacity to become a part of the whole rather than attempting to master the parts. He wanted to become whatever it was that he sought. He had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. He likely had strong leadership qualities, he definitely knew who he was, and he had tremendous will. He met challenges and believed in expanding his life. He was romantic, attractive and valued beauty, had an artistic instinct, and was sociable. He had an easy ability to create close personal relationships, for better or worse, and to form business partnerships.

sign dominants:

Leo

Libra

Cancer

He loved being the center of attention and often surrounded himself with admirers. He had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely his stage. His flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of his life. He wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. At his best, he was optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious. He loved beauty in all its guises—art, literature, classical music, opera, mathematics, and the human body. He usually was a team player who enjoyed debate but not argument. He was, at his best, an excellent strategist and a master at the power of suggestion. Even though he was likely a courteous, amiable person, he was definitely not a pushover. He tried to use diplomacy and intelligence to get what he wanted. At first meeting, he seemed enigmatic, elusive. He needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that he could call his own. He needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. He was generally gentle and kind, unless he was hurt. Then he could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. He was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. He was intuitive and was perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through him emotionally. He was often moody and always changeable; his interests and social circles shifted constantly. He was emotion distilled into its purest form.

Read more about him under the cut.

Keith John Moon was an English drummer who played with the English rock band the Who. He was noted for his unique style and his eccentric, often self-destructive behaviour. His drumming continues to be praised by critics and musicians. He was posthumously inducted into the Modern Drummer Hall of Fame in 1982, becoming only the second rock drummer to be chosen, and in 2011, Moon was voted the second-greatest drummer in history by a Rolling Stone readers' poll. Moon grew up in Alperton, a suburb of Wembley, in Middlesex, and took up the drums during the early 1960s. After playing with a local band, the Beachcombers, he joined the Who in 1964 before they recorded their first single. Moon remained with the band during their rise to fame, and was quickly recognised for his drumming style, which emphasised tom-toms, cymbal crashes, and drum fills. He occasionally collaborated with other musicians and later appeared in films, but considered playing in the Who his primary occupation and remained a member of the band until his death. In addition to his talent as a drummer, however, Moon developed a reputation for smashing his kit on stage and destroying hotel rooms on tour. He was fascinated by blowing up toilets with cherry bombs or dynamite, and by destroying television sets. Moon enjoyed touring and socialising, and was bored and restless when the Who were inactive. His 21st birthday party in Flint, Michigan, has been cited as a notorious example of decadent behaviour by rock groups. Moon suffered a number of setbacks during the 1970s, most notably the accidental death of chauffeur Neil Boland and the breakdown of his marriage. He became addicted to alcohol, particularly brandy and champagne, and acquired a reputation for decadence and dark humour; his nickname was "Moon the Loon." After moving to Los Angeles with personal assistant Peter "Dougal" Butler during the mid-1970s, Moon recorded his only solo album, the poorly received Two Sides of the Moon. While touring with the Who, on several occasions he passed out on stage and was hospitalised. By their final tour with him in 1976, and particularly during production of The Kids Are Alright and Who Are You, the drummer's deterioration was evident. Moon moved back to London in 1978, dying in September of that year from an overdose of Heminevrin, a drug intended to treat or prevent symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. (x)

#keith moon #leo #tragic stars #long ass post #star analyses #astrology #mine

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xonepeacelovex · 4 years

Text

i fall in love just a little bit

“Han. Seriously, stop flirting.”, you said with a straight face. The man just pouted at you. Quietly sulking, sipping his iced americano after you turned him down for the nth time. Clearly upset with you, he opened his laptop again and started studying for the finals.

In other time, you’ll probably entertain him with witty comebacks but not today. Today, you both need to focus on studying.

You never imagine you’ll have this kind of relationship with Han Jisung when you saw him on the first day of class. The big hall is empty except for the man that was quietly fidgeting on his seat, uncomfortable. Lucky you, he was your seatmate.

“Hi.”, you said, sitting down beside him. He stopped fidgeting and straighten his back, sitting properly this time. Sporting a shy smile, he said a small hello back. Feeling shy, you looked around, confused why the students and the professor are not still here. The class was supposed to start in a minute.

Awkward silence filled the big hall so you brought out your laptop. You can’t stand awkwardness. Opening the email your professor sent to you, your eyes widen. Closing immediately your laptop, which startled the man beside you. Looking at you with wide eyes, you said sorry while standing up. Collecting your things, “We are in the wrong hall.”, you said panicked. He stand up as well, getting his back. “Where are they?”, he said calmly. You said to him the name of the hall and you two ran out as fast as you can with him leading the way.

When the two of you arrived at the right hall, you quietly sneak in at the back, wishing the professor doesn’t notice which he did but thankfully didn’t say anything. As you sat down, you felt the sweat forming in your forehead, while the man beside you is breathing heavily. This concerned you, giving him your new water bottle. He accepted it, “Thanks.”, he said.

After patting the sweat and bringing out your latop, the professor started to introduce himself and the subject. Jisung, you learned from looking at his id, started choking on the water. He put down the water bottle, coughing, this time you patted his back.

“Are you okay?”, you asked him. “I’m in the wrong class.”, he said standing up discreetly. *Ting!* His phone light up with a new notification.

Chan hyung: Where are you? Don’t tell me Jisung that you are still sleeping. Its the first day of class for pete’s sake.

Confirming that he is indeed in the wrong class. He looked at you with wide eyes while you feel hot with embarrassment.

From then on, he never really let you live peacefully. He’s everywhere, reminding you of that day, while you constantly try to avoid him. From his knowing smile to you acknowledging his presence, he then started talking to you, teasing you a little bit of the incident. You two are never really friends though he talked to you from time to time, comfortable with each other. He started to flirt with you, throwing pick up lines and grinning at you when you got flustered. In which, you’ve learned how to throw back at him, getting him embarrassed. Still you appreciate Jisung, he’s someone you need in life. He’s calm and knows how to prioritize while you are the human version of the word chaos. Without someone like Jisung, you’ll not definitely study and will choose binge-watching a kdrama. Thus, you suggesting Jisung to be your study partner.

When its already afternoon, the usually empty cafe started to have more customers. The cafe became extremely noisy but warm. Even though you enjoy this kind of environment, Jisung clearly don’t. He stopped studying, looking around, tapping his pencil on the table. He can’t focus. You hold his hand and close his laptop. “Let’s go.”, you said to him. “But we are not done yet.”, he protested. “Come on. I’m hungry. I want a proper dinner.”, you said, already getting up. “Okay.”, he followed you, relieved.

“Do you want to continue studying?”, he asked you. After the sumptuous dinner that is ramen from the convenience store in the Han River. You two are walking without a plan. You strongly disagree, “Even if I study all night I’ll never remember all of it. I’ll sleep.”, you said.

Jisung is a smart guy. You don't even know why he agreed when you ask him to study with you. Surely he don’t need to review for the upcoming finals. He sat down at one of the benches in the park, you sat down beside him. He brought out his phone, “Listen to this.”, he said putting the other earbud in your ear. The cold breeze, the love song paying, the people walking calmly, and Jisung humming to the song while looking at the city lights. This kind of mood warms you giving you the courage to say what’s really on your mind.

“Will you ever stop flirting with me?”, you asked him. “Huh?”, confused with your random question. “Why?”, he asked back. “I think I fall in love just a little bit.”, you said while showing him with your fingers how much you are close to falling deeply in love with him, squinting your eyes, teasing him. With his shock face, you laugh at him, he really looked like the quokka you saw on the internet. “What? You shamelessly flirt with me everyday. Now you become shy.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids han #stray kids han jisung #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #stray kids fanfics #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fanfic #stay

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goldenretriever-nicknelson · 4 years

Note

Oooh maybe a blurb where Peter and Y/n hook up/kiss on a mission or the class trip and he accidentally kisses her in front of everyone so he does that thing chandler does in friends where he kisses everyone else like MJ and Betty 😂

I love this request so much haha. I love friends and secret dating so this was perfect. Thank you for requesting love! I hope you like it :)

Warnings: poorly kept secret dating, Peter being an embarrassed bean

WC: 808

It had been 2 weeks of secretly dating Peter.

It started on your class trip to Europe. You and Peter had been friends since middle school but recently you had felt a shift between you that had caused you to slowly drift apart. Peter had his Spider-man duties and you were so focused on trying to catch up with your school work after the blip.

But this trip was a break from all of that. An opportunity to get your friend back and maybe tell him how you really felt. What you didn’t realise was that was his plan too. But plans never did work out the way you hoped especially when there was a murderous lunatic chasing you down with drones.

After it all, you had found Peter looking beaten and bruised on the tower bridge. You didn’t say anything as you walked up to him, you just hugged him like you knew he needed. He held onto you so tight, hoping he could say everything he felt without saying it.

He’d been so scared of losing you and you had felt the same about him.

“Peter I-”

“I know. I’ve always known.” Peter cupped your cheek and looked softly into your eyes, sighing softly. “I love you too.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips firmly to yours, so soft and gentle. Just like you had imagined and you never wanted to stop.

But you and Peter both agreed to keep things secret for now. After everything, you wanted time to enjoy each other without the attention from everyone else. There was just one problem, Peter was finding it hard to not shout how much he loved you to everyone and to not hold you in his arms and kiss you when he wanted to.

That’s when he slipped up.

You, Peter, MJ, Betty and Ned were hanging out at MJ’s house after school to study for your chemistry quiz. Your brain was already hurting from the amount of equations you had been trying to learn and you put your head in your hands.

“Are you alright babe?”

Everyone’s heads shot up, all wearing the same confused expression as you blushed deeply behind your hands.

“Babe?” Betty amused, raising her eyebrows.

Peter stuttered and froze, his cheeks flaming red. “I- um…”

You looked up at him and felt something tug on your heartstrings as he looked you with wide puppy dog eyes.

“It’s an italian thing. Parker here must have picked it up.” You gave a forced laugh and smiled at him as he thanked you silently.

“Y-yeah. Sorry about that b-babe.” Peter nodded at Betty, feeling himself cringe as he tried to keep up the charade. You hid your laughter behind your coffee cup as Betty scrunched her nose and furrowed her brow.

You quickly turned everyone’s attention back to work, quizzing the table about chemistry but you could feel MJ’s suspicious glance between you and Peter.

As the session wrapped up, all feeling more prepared for the test than before, Peter smiled at you and said goodbye as his phone buzzed and you knew what that meant. You smiled back before his lips quickly made contact with yours.

You enjoyed the soft feel of his lips before cursing silently at him in your head as you remembered where you were. Both of your cheeks flamed bright red again as he pulled back.

“Um..?” Ned furrowed his brow, clearly confused at what the hell was going on as MJ laughed. Peter looked at you panicked before seemingly making a quick and stupid decision.

“See you later, MJ.” Peter smiled politely before kissing her very quickly. MJ’s eyes widened and she quickly pulled back, looking at Peter as if he had grown a new head.

“You too Betty.” Peter leaned in towards her but she quickly put her hand on his chest and stopped him.

“Nope.”

You let out a giggle and shook your head. “Oh for goodness sake, Pete. Just tell them.” He looked back at you with raised brows and blushed.

“R-really.”

“Yes before you makeout with everyone here.” You rolled your eyes and laughed making Peter chuckle before he reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you in for a longer lasting kiss.

“We already knew you were dating.” MJ noted, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking.

“Y-you did?” Peter and you looked at her in surprise, hands tightly held in each other. Everyone in the room nodded causing both of your cheeks to grow even redder.

“Mhm you’re terrible at keeping secrets.” Betty nodded, collecting up her stuff with a smile.

“Plus we had a bet on how long it would take until you finally got together.” Ned laughed as you and Peter looked at each other and giggled, feeling a sense of relief that the secret was finally out.

permanent taglist: @spideygirl2003 ~ @tomhoran ~ @rebekkah4766 ~ @unbelievableholland ~ @hollandcreep ~ @eeyore101247 ~ @localpeter ~ @tomhollandssecurityguard ~ @preciouspparkers ~ @yourmum792 ~ @chaoticpete ~ @thinkoutsidethebex ~ @serenaparker96 ~ @halfblood-princess-505 ~ @marvels-blue-phoenix ~ @abrielleholland ~ @farfromtommy ~ @sunshine96love ~ @sleepyhollands ~ @definitely-not-black-cat ~ @sunflowerhollands ~ @phrogtheguitarist ~ @laney-g23 ~ @spidereader ~ @parker-holland-osterfield ~ @pastelpeter ~ @glowunderthemoon ~ @whitewolfandthefox ~ @unicorn-princess-1999 ~ @serendipitous-amor ~ @hazmyheart ~ @averyfosterthoughts ~ @dorbiksbitch ~ @peterparkoure ~ @god-knows-what-am-i-doing ~ @overlydeluded ~ @dragonflyashes ~ @tutuabby28 ~ @kickingn-ames ~ @parkrpeter ~ @maybemona ~ @unfortunateshelby ~ @un-limit-edd ~ @howdyherron ~ @destinyluvkrime ~ @matsumama ~ @galaxystern08 ~ @the-crazy-fanfictionist ~ @quaksonhehe ~ @wonder-spidey~ @whatthefuckimbisexual ~ @keithseabrook27 ~ @namoreno ~ @sovereignparker

#peter parker x reader #katiesblurbs #katies blurbs #peter parker blurb #peter parker x y/n #peter parker

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cosmicbash · 3 years

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(answer only if ur comfy with answering) i’m pretty sure 3/4 of the boys (em, kells, rook, and pete) prolly self harmed, i mean the fuckers are covered in tats, i won’t be surprised if the “it looks cool” is just an excuse. how would their s/o react to the scars?

Pete:

Pete talked alot about his self harm in his interview early on this year with Charlamagne. I highly recommend anyone who likes Pete, doesnt like pete, or just wants to know who the fuck he is watches is. Its an hour long but I literally sobbed while watching it because its just so heartbreaking some of the stuff hes gone through and how deeply I can relate to alot of his struggles.

Fuck it imma link it.

youtube

But anyway. He's said he used tattooing for a while as a less destructive form of self harm because the pain from getting them done worked the same way cutting did for him. Also he had them done to cover up some of his self harm scars because he used to cut his own chest. Pete's always been very open about this kind of stuff. Especially so in the interview where he goes into a lot of explicit detail so if thats potentially triggering I would have to also recommend AGAINST watching it unfortunately.

But as for how his SO would react?

Rook would already know ahead of time about Pete's past and current self harm habits. In interviews Pete talks alot about how he "warns" his partners when they first get together about how he's "crazy" and regularly will need to take "vacations" to the mental hospital to get a handle back on things when his meds need readjusted or his mental health gets to be too much of a struggle to handle on his own with his outpatient therapy. So, by the time they're actively dating, in a serious relationship Rook would already probably have figured out what days are going to be bad ones for Pete and what he can do to help.

Like noticing Pete looking more disheveled on their facetime calls, or his jokes leaning a bit too far on the scale of self deprication. They can't always be together because of their careers and living situations (at least not until they move in together) but Rook would drop some of their usual teasing banter for the day and instead fill their conversations and calls with reassurances and check ins on what Pete might need. The most important thing for him would be making sure Pete knows he loves him and that he's not going anywhere just because Petes having a low day and acte snappy or distant.

Rook doesn't notice Pete's scars most of the time. Not unless he looks closely for them and, except during the dim quiet nights where they're laying together and his fingers are tracing the random explosion of art lining Pete's chest the drummer actually forgets they exist at all. When they first met it was hard for him to even imagine cheery, sweet always giggling Pete in such a dark space that he would do things like that but, once the proof is infront of his eyes it's hard for Rook not to feel his heart ache even before he's fallen completely in love with the man. Rarely he will find his fingers catching on a feather thin line on Pete's skin, and when they do the kiss that follows is not out of pity but one of acceptance. Pete's perfect. Even with all of his sharp edges and missing pieces. That's just more space for Rook to fit himself into to act as support.

Kells:

Kells has said similar too, I think I remember an interview with him saying he also got tatts to cover up some self harm scars (also to fight some of his body dysphoria. Which actually got heightened really badly when he had to wear all that makeup for the dirt and see himself truly 'naked' again.) Cutting himself, including on the chest like Pete has mentioned. He also drinks and does drugs to self harm and numb the pain.

The majority of his scars are hidden away by his colorful tats. The few Em discovers are like Rook, through accident. The pads of his fingers catching on a slightly different texture or a close examination of some of the blonde's artwork. Kells is less vocal than Pete. If Em presses, depending on the day he might give a detailed account for each gash or on a less comfortable night he might change the subject with a "i dunno, probably happened when i was drunk/high/a kid"

Em does his best to respect Kelly's comfort but the few scars he finds uncovered down around the blondes ankle become a favorite spot of his to hold and stroke whenever available. Theres just something about them. Maybe the strong need to "protect" that rushes through him when he touches them or it could be the almost possessive idea that while the world may know every tiny piece of art that litters his boyfriends flesh, this small patch is his and his alone to see. Like a secret held between the two of them.

Em:

Em's obviously talked about his own self harm in the past. His "slit me" wrist tattoo an unashamed statement to it. Even after he got sober and stopped doing the "usual methods" like cutting, drinking excessively, and nearly overdosing, he did struggle with starving himself or abusing his body by over exercising instead. Like Em tore his hip flexors after getting sober because of it. I'd hope that nowadays he's got a better handle on things but it wouldn't be shocking if he still struggled from time to time.

So, Kell's being a huge stan of his. Even before the beef is guaranteed to know about it. He looked up to Em and compared the similarities of their lives for years.

That doesn't make it any less jarring when they get together and he stumbles upon the scars though.

The faint faded lines across Em's wrists he expects. Even the almost undetectable jagged line along the older rapper's scalp from his childhood bully is something he knows enough about to immediately place. But the paler crossing lines he spots one day between Em's thighs are what make them all feel "real" and less like some tiny little trivia fact he read in a magazine, heard in an interview, a song. Them and Em's quiet almost reluctant admission of their placement being the only true "private" space he thought he could use crushing the final leg on the unreachable pedestal a younger Kells had placed the man up on. Allowing him to actually see Em. To fall in love with him.

From that moment on Kells hands find themselves glued there every time they go to sleep. It doesn't matter the position. Big spoon or little spoon he will twist his wrist or arm to curl one hand around the soft flesh of Em's inner thigh. Just to feel them against his palm or to sleepily stroke with his thumb.

Sure, it might be a little like how his knowledge of them tickles that posessive side he and Em both share. But, it's actually mostly just because Kelly finds them beautiful. Scars have always been attractive to him and every bitter huff or dismissal of how they're ugly or childish from Em just makes him want to kiss and stroke them more.

Rook:

I unfortunately don't know much about Rook's history with self harm. Its reasonable to assume he shares the same "drown your sorrows" habits kells and Pete have/did. And from what I've seen and learned about him through his lives and just following his social media I couldnt speculate one way or another.

Regardless any kind of scars Pete might discover on Rook would be treated with care. Lots of soft fluttered kisses and gentle brushes of fingers.

Pete wouldn't pry. Current Rook and the risk of any future scars are far more important to him. If Rook wants to share or talk about them he's of course eager to be there for him to listen and support. And even though he knows the struggle with mental health and jow unavoidable some heartache and pains may be that doesn't stop him from feeling any less grief over not meeting Rook sooner to prevent the drummer from experiencing some of it.

And ahh its almost 1:30 am anon 🥺🥺 sorry I got a little carried away with this ask. I hope it's close to the type of answer you wanted but I'm gonna cut it here because I'm hitting a wall.

#emgk #pookie #TW selfharm #tw #self harm #ive never tagged something with a trigger warning before #so im sorry if i do it wromg #asks #i love asks

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ramblingguy54 · 3 years

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Am I the only one that got simillar vibes with Della finding out Louie was responsible for the Timephoon and Goofy finding out Max changed the map in Goofy Movie? It's cause both involve a struggling parent who thought their kids could do no wrong until they find out in a bad way just how wrong they are.

Abso-fucking-lutely on the mark there, man.

Della’s entire parental conflict in Timephoon mirrors A Goofy Movie’s powerful scene where Goofy looks at the map directions Max changed. Timephoon is easily a masterfully crafted story about a parent having to put their foot down, even if some part of them doesn’t want to, but it needed to be done. Definitely got those vibes myself too about Della’s anger against Louie being very much how deeply hurt and angered Goofy felt at Max lying to him after how much trust he put into treating him as an equal with their road trip directions. Timephoon is up there in my top favorite episodes of the show because it delivers powerfully on what makes Della an endearing, relatable, and highly empathetic character.

What makes Timephoon stand out, pun entirely intended, as an amazing episode is how it studies Della’s loose parenting style she’s been very lenient about with her kids. Something Beakly rightfully calls her out on for being too easy on them when they do stuff that should be addressed, so when you’ve got a kid under your care like Louie it can lead into not so pretty results. Della had to almost learn this lesson at the cost of her entire family, not to mention their whole reality, she had just gotten back not too long ago, as well. Della wasn’t simply just mad at Louie, but furious at him for endangering something she had been longing for in all that painful seclusion on the Moon. She was also upset at herself, considering she finally understood Beakly’s rebuttal about proper parenting as everything she had worked so many days to achieve reuniting with her family was about to wiped clean by Louie’s time traveling scheme to get rich.

A Goofy Movie & Timephoon share the painful lesson of parenting and how it can reflect upon their guardian’s characterization to boot. It’s why Goofy hesitating to open the glove compartment, where they were keeping their road trip map, was so powerfully heartbreaking. Goofy didn’t want to check the map because he was afraid if Max did change their plans to go fishing and head straight to LA for Powerline, then it would mean Max doesn’t respect him as much as Goofy believes him to in the grand scheme of things. This isn’t simply a matter of, “Oh, your kid is bad. Time to lay down the law”, no way. The importance of this moment greatly examines Goofy’s insecurity about being viewed in a bad light by his own son. Goofy can shrug off and tolerate people not thinking much of him, but when Max hates being around his father enough to back stab him are when things take a serious heel turn in the story. When Pete told him that Max changed the map we saw a very serious and vulnerable side to Goofy’s happy go lucky personality. He was utterly crushed by the possibility of Max lying to him, which we see how deeply angered he gets at Pete’s accusation. If Goofy were to accept Pete’s account of Max changing the map and why it happened, this would be a painful punchline for him having to accept that Max doesn’t want to be apart of the family legacy he’s attempting to share on their sentimental road trip.

Della has a highly similar character study in how her parenting style comes back to bite her in the ass. Timephoon examines that while, sure, Della can be a very loving and understanding parent to her children, regarding their needs for affection, she doesn’t know how to put her foot down when one of them steps out of line. In this case, Louie took advantage of her lenient nature to try sweeping his serious oversight of time travel under the rug, but inevitably gets caught by her. Della has been fighting tooth and nail to get home to her kids, so it makes for an amazing poetic gut punch to see the cause of almost destroying their family being the very thing she cares most of all for, one of her kids being the culprit. Della hadn’t been paying much mind to Beakly’s advice until things started getting truly terrible for their situation, so there’s no doubt Della was severely beating herself up. It was because of Della’s spoiling nature for her kids and carelessness she didn’t see the trouble brewing under her nose. Worst case scenario, Della could’ve lost her entire family forever, if she hadn’t stumbled across Louie in time to fix this huge mess he got them all into.

Timephoon shows an amazing parallel of Louie representing Della’s greatest mistake, The Spear of Selene. Della had confidence in braving the unknown of space not just as a seasoned adventurer, but because she wanted to gift her children with a new way to explore their universe being space. Della had never journeyed to space before, so what better gift for her children when they were old enough to do so, right? Louie’s arrogance very much is symbolic of how Della took the Spear, which led to catastrophic consequences. It’s very important to note those factors because this is exactly why Della got so angry with him. She saw the worst of herself in Louie’s actions with time traveling. Louie almost costed them everything solely because he didn’t think through what the kid was getting himself into. Della looked at this as not only needing to be better with a stricter parental attitude, but a reminder of how much she messed up before.

Timephoon & A Goofy Movie should seriously shake hands because they’ve got serious gut punches all around. Della gets thrown the angst line, “I wonder who I got that from...”, from the boy she held in her arms back in Nothing Can Stop Della Duck hitting her where it greatly hurts. What always strikes me about that moment is Della not speaking a word of response to Louie. You can tell Della wants to say something about how much deep seeded remorse she feels for what her past actions did to the entire family, overall. Goofy, on the other hand, sends Max a heavy hitter statement when he finally tries to confess to his father about changing the map directions. When he said, “Why bother? I’m probably too stupid to understand anyway, right?”, God I could feel his pain 200 times over. Goofy wanted to share his family history with Max, so to find out his own son looks down upon who he is must’ve felt like more than a slap in the face. You know what they say in theaters, “Silence is golden.”, considering it’s worth more than a million spoken words. Della & Goofy’s pain revolving around their kids can be felt in their silent expressions after having it out with them in an intensely charged confrontation. That’s what we call beautiful drama right there.

So, yeah, consider this another in-depth post, besides an anon answer, for why I love Timephoon so damn much. It wonderfully explores what makes Della Duck who she is and why I root to see her do better, too. It sharing elements with A Goofy Movie only makes my rewatch experience of it all the sweeter.

#anon asks #anon answers #ducktales 2017 #ducktales season 2 #basically just me gushing more about timephoon #timephoon #a goofy movie #this is what we call delicious angst #della duck #goofy #max goof

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ironfidus · 4 years

Text

Every Fifteen Minutes (3)

Summary:

“In honor of Peter Benjamin Parker,” the obituary reads. “2001 - 2017. Peter B. Parker, 16, died on the 5th of February, 2017, as a result of injuries sustained in a car crash involving a drunk driver…”

Tony can't finish reading. He swears his heart stops. “FRIDAY,” he croaks.

He doesn’t have to finish the order; FRIDAY, as if reading his mind, activates his Iron Man suit and sends it to envelop his body. Tony is shooting through the skies before he even fully realizes it.

OR: Peter Parker was in a car crash—except... he wasn’t. One forgetful Spider-Kid, one sleepy best friend, and one misleading post on social media all lead to a disastrous turn of events, culminating in the arrival of an unexpected guest at Midtown High.

Read here on AO3 (@a_matter_of_loyalty)

:::

Chapter 3: the sky’d be falling (and I’d hold you tight)

Chapter Summary: Peter wakes up.

Or: Tony and Ned finally realize Peter is alive and there was never any car crash at all.

:::

Tony’s heart thumps loudly in his chest.

Peter.

Thud. Thud. Thud thud thud—

He whirls around so quickly he nearly falls and suffers from whiplash, Douglas Fitzpatrick and Principal Morita immediately forgotten. The rest of the goddamn world falls away, out of sight and out of mind.

The groan was quiet, barely even audible, but Tony would recognize that voice anywhere.

For the umpteenth time today, his heart stutters, suspended in time, and then stops. “Peter?” he trembles, the kid’s name no more than a whisper on his tongue. Tentatively, haltingly, he abandons Fitzpatrick and Morita both, making his way back to Ned and Peter—Peter, his stupid, reckless, self-sacrificial, brave kid who is still lying on the ground, a sight that predictably sends a shot of pain piercing Tony. But beyond the instinctive pain, a glimmer of hope balloons in his chest, too, spreading through the rest of his body with unrivaled warmth. “Pete.”

“Peter…? Are you… Can you hear me?” Ned chimes in from beside him, and Tony knows then that he can’t be hallucinating. It feels like a dream, but the same hope he feels is painted across Ned’s face, too.

Right in front of their eyes, Peter’s face muscles twitch.

Tony’s heartbeat picks back up at a hundred miles per hour.

Watching Peter wake up feels like watching the birth of a star. Peter yawns, stretching his limbs like a cat that’s been curled up for too long, and all the while, Tony watches in breathless awe. After a few heart-stopping seconds, Peter sits up, and his eyes instantly catch sight of the scene they make, his best friend and his mentor looming above him with equally hopeful expressions on their faces—

And then Peter beams, hand lifting up in a wave, laughter erupting from him like a shower of protons—a supernova. His smile is dazzling, and it feels a little like watching the sun come out from behind the clouds. It’s like a burst of fireworks splashing across the midnight sky. It’s like the comfort of chocolate and marshmallows, like basking in the hot glow of a campfire.

It’s like hope rising up from a sea of misery.

(Tony never again wants to see Peter's brightness fade, to see the stars in his eyes die out.)

Ned pushes forward first, forcefully slotting himself in front of Tony. Tony doesn’t mind; he’s content with watching and waiting, now that he knows there is a Peter to wait for at all. Besides, he knows what this means to Ned; he knows Ned’s heart broke just as his did.

Ned grips Peter tightly by his shoulders, frenzied eyes meeting his best friend’s. “Peter… Peter. Peter Peter Peter,” Ned chants breathlessly, Peter’s name falling from his mouth like a litany of prayers all blurring together. Ned blinks, once, and the tears overflow his cheeks in a series of cascades. “You’re awake. God, you’re okay.”

“Ned?” Peter blinks, too, but instead of tears, there is only confusion and incomprehension in his eyes. Still, despite his own bewilderment, there is a reason he and Ned have always been best friends: no matter what, they are invariably there to support one another. For Ned, Peter doesn’t hesitate to ignore his budding uncertainty and reach out with his own arms, enwrapping his friend in a soft yet solid embrace, wordlessly providing the reassuring presence Ned needs even without knowing it.

“Ned,” Peter whispers in a hushed, gentle croon, a murmured lullaby to soothe Ned’s frayed nerves. “I’m okay,” he echoes Ned’s near incoherent babbles without prompting. “I’m okay, Ned.”

Ned doesn’t hesitate to enfold Peter in his own arms, crushing Peter to him with an urgency that transcends speech.

Peter swallows, repeating his comforting whispers despite the unease that filters through him. Ned has always been his proverbial rock in the midst of disaster, his anchor to normalcy—to the life of Peter Parker, not Spider-Man. It’s unsettling to see Ned like this: devastated and crying in his arms, shoulders convulsing with the force of his sorrow.

(He became Spider-Man to protect families like his own; to prevent the tragedy that stole Uncle Ben from him from happening to countless others. He became Spider-Man to provide the people with a sense of safety, a sense of security, a sense of comfort.

How can he hope to comfort his neighborhood when he can’t even comfort his own friend?

Ned was never supposed to know sadness like this, grief like this.)

“Peter,” Ned snivels, burying his face in the crook of Peter’s neck. The collar of Peter’s shirt grows damp beneath his face. “You can’t – you can’t leave me, Peter. You’re my best friend. You’re my brother.”

Unbidden, tears spring to Peter’s own eyes, drawn out by the raw anguish evident in his best friend’s entire demeanor. He may not understand, but he doesn’t have to understand to know that Ned needs him right now. “I know,” he whispers. “You’re my brother, too. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m right here.”

Peter holds Ned, keeping him close, for a few minutes longer, unwilling to draw back before Ned does. He’ll stay like this for as long as Ned needs it.

Eventually, as the minutes tick by, Ned’s whimpers quieten and his shoulders stop shuddering. When he finally—albeit reluctantly—pulls away from Peter, it’s with a shaky smile and reddened eyes. Thank you, his smile says, more effectively than words ever could.

Peter smiles back, understanding that Ned’s gratitude extends far beyond the impromptu hug.

It’s only now, after Ned has visibly calmed, that Peter allows his initial confusion to resurface.

“Ned, what’s going—” he freezes suddenly when his eyes catch onto something, or rather someone, over Ned’s shoulder. Ned had blocked his view of their surroundings earlier, and his concern for Ned had clouded his attention anyway, but now that Ned has retracted himself somewhat, Peter can see the familiar outline of his mentor against the backdrop of his high school.

His mentor. Mr. Stark. At his high school.

“Wha – Mr. Stark!” Peter squawks, voice strangled and high-pitched (read: embarrassed) as he meets Tony’s eye—oh, that’s right, he said his classmates don’t believe he knows me, as if he’s the lucky one, Tony recalls faintly—but it does nothing to tame the pleased, albeit shy, smile that crawls up his lips. “Oh, my god. Mr. Stark, what are you doing here?”

The question comes like an accusation, tinged with both confusion and worry.

Tony isn’t worried. How can he worry about anything when Peter’s awake and whole? Maybe that’s why he says in response to Peter’s question, heart on his sleeve: “I came here for you.”

Peter blinks once. Twice.

And then, as the words sink in, as Peter wraps his mind around the quiet admission, he chokes. “Mr. Stark!” he splutters, embarrassment growing as he becomes abruptly aware of where, exactly, he is. Ned’s distress had blinded him to all else earlier, but now, with no distractions to redirect his focus, he feels the presence of his entire student body all too distinctly. Under his schoolmates’ palpably shocked and interrogatory stares, Peter feels naked and defenseless, vulnerable before the world.

The realization that his classmates, people he sees and socializes with everyday, not only witnessed a private moment between him and Ned, but is also now privy to him interacting with Tony Goddamn Stark in all his grandeur, punches into him with the force of an asteroid. Peter blanches visibly, struggling to find words as he valiantly tries (and fails) to ignore his classmates’ piercing gazes, “Why – I thought – I don’t—”

“I thought you were dead,” Tony interrupts, a mere whisper, thick and stained with the lingering fears of the day.

Peter falls silent, his voice stolen from his larynx. Embarrassment and mortification deflating immediately, he gawks, openmouthed and uncomprehending, at Tony.

Tony’s jaw shifts. When FRIDAY first alerted him of the dreaded post that spurred him towards Midtown High today, he cursed himself for never letting Peter know before it was too late—know how much he’d come to mean to Tony, how deeply he’d snuck his way into Tony’s life, how he’d redefined love and family as Tony sees it.

Now that it turns out it’s not too late—now that Peter is breathing and awake and alive, chest rising and falling with the proof of it—Tony won’t let Peter doubt his place in Tony’s life ever again. He’s done hiding, done pretending.

Life is too short, and he has too much to lose.

(It’s a lesson Peter learned early—far earlier than him—Tony thinks. He should have realized it from the very beginning, when he barged into a homely apartment in Queens and met Peter Parker for the very first time, small and timid and startlingly determined in his cramped room, the brightest fire burning in his eyes as he stared Tony down and said, unwavering:

When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen... they happen because of you.

Tony had never forgotten those words.

Even back then, Peter had known the fragility of life and the importance of making every second count—while Tony had been clueless. For so long, he’d taken things—people—for granted; he’d simply assumed Rhodey and Pepper and Happy and later Peter would stay in his life for as long as he wanted.

It is a fool’s assumption. Because sometimes, it’s not up to you. Sometimes, choice doesn’t weigh in.)

(Tony is scared of letting people in. Has always been scared, ever since his father and Obadiah Stane taught him the taste of betrayal.

But he’s more scared of not letting Peter in, of losing Peter, he finds.)

“I thought you were dead,” he repeats, and there is something too honest—too exposed—in his voice to deny. He meets Peter’s eyes and lays his heart bare: “I thought I’d lost you.”

Peter blinks rapidly, eyes pooling with tears. “Mr. Stark,” he says with a weak laugh, voice watery with choked amazement, “you’re going to give people the wrong idea if you keep talking like that.” A tentative grin curls on his face. He jokes, “God forbid anyone realizes Tony Stark has a heart.”

Tony laughs, his first since this morning. It feels freeing, like a vice grip has been released from around said heart. “Let them,” he says when he’s stopped laughing, warm eyes turning fierce and steely. Peter blinks, startled, and Tony smiles, soft but determined. “Let them.”

Peter resembles a deer caught in headlights. “B-But—”

Your reputation, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t need to; Tony can read the worry in his eyes. You’re Tony Stark. What about your company? What about the press? What if they—

Oh, Pete, Tony thinks. You precious, precious kid. Peter was always worrying about others; he was always putting others first. Putting Tony first. Tony shakes his head in disbelief, because—As if I care what they think about me. As if any of that matters more than this, more than you.

He doesn’t care. Nothing matters more.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs aloud resolutely, taking another step towards Peter, hands twitching with the urge to take his kid into his arms, to press two fingers to the side of his neck and feel Peter’s pulse—Peter’s life—beating against the pads of his fingers. “I just spent the last hour or so”—has it really only been an hour? It feels like a lifetime has passed—“thinking you were dead.”

Peter blinks again, the words Tony didn’t say echoing loud and clear in the air between them. His tears spill over in a rush at last, tracking their way down his cheeks. With a startled, nasally laugh, Peter reaches up and rubs at his cheeks with the undersides of his wrists, brushing the tears away.

The motion of Peter’s hands finally redirects Tony’s attention to the side of his head—or rather, to the blood that smears it. Oh, my god. His stomach twists in horrified realization.

“Oh, shit.” Tony’s heart lurches to his throat as his single-minded focus on he’s alive he’s alive he’s alive dwindles slightly, replaced by reawakened fear for what he almost lost and could yet still lose. How could he have forgotten? Stupid. So stupid. In his defense, he’d been too caught up by the fact that Peter is actually alive and breathing to pay attention to the obvious bleeding wound on his head, but still—

He’s a terrible mentor, he thinks. Shit. How long has it been? What if he has a fucking concussion, Stark? “Peter,” he chokes out, voice strangled with urgency, “you need to… you need to get to the hospital, or the medbay, or—wait, the paramedics are already here. Shit, we’ve wasted so much time already and your head—”

Red. So much blood. Tony’s stomach turns. He’s seen a lot of injuries in his time, both due to his wild past and his occupation as Iron Man, but Peter’s wounds have always affected him in ways no one else’s can.

This is Peter, and he’s bleeding from the head. Tony should have flown him to the nearest hospital ten minutes ago.

But for reasons he cannot discern, Peter doesn’t seem to share his concerns. “What?” Peter’s brows furrow. He looks at Tony like he’s grown two heads, instead of the other way around. “Mr. Stark, I’m fine,” he protests.

“You’re not fine,” Tony hisses, his heart racing in his ribcage. Thoughts of head wound and concussion and internal bleeding sweep through his mind, like vultures looking to feast on the nearest rotten carcass. “Fuck. You need medical attention now—”

Speaking of which, why haven’t the paramedics loaded Peter onto the ambulance yet? Sure, Tony and Ned have been fretting over him, but it’s their job to make sure that Peter is in perfect condition.

Tony’s just about to turn and bark at the paramedics to get your asses over here and get my kid to the goddamn hospital when Peter yelps, “Mr. Stark, I’m not hurt. Really!” He gives Tony a meaningful look. “Why would I be—? I haven’t even gone on the web yet today.”

“Peter,”—he swivels around to face the kid again, eyes narrowing—“there is blood on your face. Stop pulling your ‘I’m Fine, I Swear’ routine. That stopped being believable a long time ago.”

“I don’t have a routine— and I really am fine this time!” Peter persists. “Look, it’s just—” he reaches up and swipes a hand through the blood, offering his newly blood-covered hand to Tony.

Tony stares. He resists the immediate, instinctive urge to recoil, instead trying to assess the situation and figure out why the fuck Peter is holding out his blood-covered hand.

“See?” Peter huffs, and Tony doesn’t. “It’s not real blood, Mr. Stark.”

Wait, what. Tony’s brain short-circuits. Now that Peter’s mentioned it, though, Tony considers the notion and realizes that Peter’s supposedly blood-covered hand is missing the distinctive smell of blood, of rusted copper and iron. What the fuck.

Peter smiles far too triumphantly at the dawning look of realization on Tony’s face. “I wasn’t even injured,” he insists.

“B-But— I—” Tony stammers incredulously. “What is all this, then? Why were you…” he trails off, not quite able to make himself voice the words, and instead simply gestures at the scene around them—the cluster of paramedics and police officers looking skittishly from Tony to his Iron Man suit and back again, the handcuffed teenager cowering against one of the police cars, the gathering of students, Peter with (fake?) blood still on his face.

Tony swallows once, and then clears his throat forcefully. “I thought… I thought you were in a car crash…?”

Peter’s eyes widen as the first drops of understanding finally sink into him. Oh. Oh! “Oh, my god. Oh, my god. I wasn’t — Mr. Stark, I wasn’t actually in a car crash. I promise. Wait, is that why you thought I—? That’s why you’re here?”

Tony nods hesitantly, still reeling from shock.

Peter mouths one more oh, my god as he shakes his head frantically, waving his arms back and forth as if to discourage that belief. He looks like he isn’t sure whether to bemoan their luck or giggle at the insanity of their situation. “Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark. This is just a simulation. It’s all part of an educational program Midtown is participating in.”

Tony makes a guttural, dumbfounded noise at the back of his throat, so taken aback that he can’t even find the words to respond to that. A… program?

Peter finally gives in and snickers lightly, equal parts amusement and sheepish regret on his face. “It’s called Every Fifteen Minutes,” he explains apologetically, registering now why his mentor appears so haggard before him, as if he’s been through a war. “It’s meant to raise awareness about the dangers of drinking-and-driving and stuff. I’m sorry if you’ve been…” he shakes it off with a grimace. “I would have told you earlier, but I kind of – heh – fell asleep.”

Tony instinctively takes in the entire scene again, his gaze absently drifting back to the car wreck, the lineup of emergency responders, the gaggle of students and staff. He should have realized the second he appeared that there is something distinctly wrong about an honest-to-god civilian crowd gathering to goggle at a crime scene.

He shakes his head and zeroes in on the handcuffed student for the umpteenth time—only this time, he pushes past the haze of anger and considers all the facts through an impartial lens. He remembers, abruptly, his jarring realization that the student seemed to show no signs of intoxication whatsoever. In light of his newfound perspective on the situation, Tony can only think: oh.

“Oh,” he repeats aloud, half-ashamed. The other half of him is still far too relieved to care about his mistaken assumptions.

Peter gives another giggle. “Yeah, oh,” he mocks.

Tony’s heart skips a beat. Despite knowing full well that Peter is making fun of him, he can’t help but smile contentedly at his stupid, stupid kid, eyes crinkling at the corners. Call him biased, but Peter’s laugh is the best sound in the entire world.

Peter presses his lips together to muffle the rest of his laugh before he tilts his head, searching for his best friend once more. The second he locks eyes with Ned, he raises his eyebrows and aims a questioning gaze at the other boy. “And why were you crying, Ned? Did you... did you think this was real, too?” He looks endearingly confused. “The teachers handed out pamphlets weeks ago, remember?”

Ned flushes when Tony turns to stare at him, visibly unimpressed. “How was I supposed to know that was today?” Ned protests, grumbling under his breath. After a prolonged moment, he scratches his cheek sheepishly and admits, “I completely forgot about that. I didn’t even connect the dots until you mentioned it.”

Peter squints. “Ned...” he draws out and proceeds to list, the teasing grin on his face growing with every passing second: “Mr. Harrington told us it would be today. Principal Morita sent out emails in advance—both to us and to our emergency contacts, to make sure we’re all informed. One of the officers literally came into our class and notified us that I’d be the ‘casualty’ from our class.”

“Oh,” Ned mumbles to himself, even more embarrassed now.

“Leeds,” Tony groans, eyes slitted in incredulous disapproval, “really?”

Ned splutters incoherently, trying to defend himself to the sound of Peter’s suppressed giggles.

:::

After the initial rush of adrenaline has faded from all of their systems, Tony dusts off his pants, briefly eyeing the dirt-stained patches at his knees with resignation, and beckons for Peter to stand. “We’re leaving,” he announces in a voice that dares anyone to disagree. He shoots Principal Morita—who is still standing a few feet away from Fitzpatrick, posture ill at ease although comprehension (dazed comprehension, but comprehension nonetheless) seems to have finally dawned on him after witnessing Tony Stark’s reaction to Peter’s awakening—in particular, a pointed glare. “Let’s go, Pete.”

Naturally, no one disagrees.

Peter shrugs, rising to his feet from where he’s been sitting cross-legged on the ground. “Good thing I’ve been excused from the rest of my classes,” he says, knowing better than to argue with Tony right now.

Tony nods jerkily. He turns to Peter’s sidekick with a questioning look. “Ted, you coming?” he offers graciously; he knows he certainly wouldn’t want to be separated from Peter after the roller-coaster of a lunch hour he’s had.

Tony’s prompt return to using the familiar nickname Ted startles Ned for a moment, but he’s too relieved by the reason why Tony’s calling him ‘Ted’ again to care.

Ned hesitates, conflicted gaze darting to Peter—hungrily drinking in the sight of his best friend, alive and well—before he sighs and declines, audibly disappointed, “I can’t. Unlike someone,”—he shoots Peter a mock-annoyed glare that Peter promptly responds to with a self-satisfied grin—“I actually do still have to attend my last classes of the day.”

Tony nods in sympathetic understanding.

Ned faces Peter with narrowed eyes. “But you and I are going to have a long, long call tonight. Don’t even think of skipping out,” he declares decisively, not giving Peter any choice in the matter.

Peter laughs, nodding easily. “I’ll hold you to it,” he agrees readily.

Ned relaxes minutely and nods, an expression of immeasurable gratitude rising in his eyes.

“Okay, kid, come on,” Tony breaks the moment, being the first among the three to finally remember all of the eyes on them. “I think we’ve all had enough of being stared at for one day. I grew up hounded by the media circus and even I’m fazed by all of this gawking,” he jokes.

Peter nods in agreement, shuffling closer to Tony self-consciously. Tony obligingly shifts so that he’s covering Peter from the prying stares as best he can.

“Where are we going?” Peter asks, privately grateful for Tony’s unspoken show of support. He knows he can always count on Mr. Stark to try to shield him from the rest of the world. “Is Happy picking us up?”

Tony sucks in a sharp breath. Absolutely not, he wants to snap. You aren’t going anywhere near a goddamn car if I have anything to say about it.

Of course, he knows now that it was all just part of one elaborate educational program. He knows that Peter was never in any danger at all.

But that knowledge doesn’t erase the hour in which he’d existed in his own personal limbo, suffering under the impression that Peter is dead. It doesn’t erase the panic, the fear, the grief. It doesn’t erase the fact that he can’t bear the thought of Peter getting within ten feet of a car.

He also knows, logically, that he can’t keep Peter sheltered forever. Peter will have to get back in a vehicle eventually, whether it’s a school bus or Happy’s—technically Tony’s—car. There’s nothing he can do about that.

But for once, he doesn’t want to listen to logic. For right now at least, he can prevent Peter from climbing aboard a car. For right now, he can do something about it.

“Nope,” Tony decides, reaching out and gripping Peter by the shoulders. Unapologetically, he turns Peter around and steers him down the street, away from Midtown High, smothering his amusement as Peter half-twists in his hold and waves a cheery see you later at Ned. Fortunately—for everyone’s sake—no one tries to stop Tony from leaving with Peter in tow (likely still too shocked to do anything but gape uselessly). “We’re going to walk. Think of it as extra exercise to keep your blood flowing. Your growing teenage body needs to stay active, you know. Keeps your immune system strong and all that—”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupts, completely deadpan, and pauses long enough to look around in search of eavesdroppers before he continues, voice lowered, “I’m literally Spider-Man.”

“—So! Exercise,” Tony concludes loudly, expertly ignoring Peter. He’s only vaguely aware of his Iron Man suit silently trailing after them in the air, FRIDAY intuitively steering the empty armor.

Peter just sighs, accepting it for what it is. Still, he makes one last attempt to make Tony see reason. “Mr. Stark, my bags are still in my locker. I need my books for homework.”

Tony is suddenly and vividly reminded of sitting beside Peter on his cramped twin bed, trying to convince the kid to join him in Germany only for Peter to argue that he had homework. It’s such an insignificant, silly detail, but it’s a response that is so perfectly Peter that Tony is abruptly struck by how precious Peter is. It reminds him, inexplicably, of Peter’s unwavering sense of responsibility.

Oh, kid. And just like he did last time, Tony waves it off. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “We can come back to take your bags later.” And by “later”, he means: after he’s fussed over Peter a sufficient amount.

Peter seems to understand his unspoken implication, giving Tony an unamused look. “So how are we going to get to the Tower?” he asks, bypassing the issue of his missing books for the moment.

He’s been around Tony far too often, if he can read Tony this easily, Tony thinks. He should probably be concerned, but he finds he doesn’t really care. Peter seems to be the exception to all of his rules.

“Unless, of course, you plan on walking the entire way there,” Peter adds skeptically.

Tony simply raises his gaze to the sky, where Iron Man hovers above them. “Have you forgotten that I have a flying suit?” he says.

Peter follows his gaze expectantly and laughs, shaking his head as if to say I should have known.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Tony coaxes, trying to make light of the situation and ignore the elephant in the room that is his irrational fear of letting Peter get too close to a four-wheeled vehicle (or any wheeled vehicle, period). “Just think of it as express delivery service.”

Peter snorts. “You’re impossible, Mr. Stark,” he complains, but he indulgently follows Tony further away from his school, so Tony counts it as a win. “So, where are we walking to now? Or are we headed to the Tower directly?”

Tony considers it. He really, really doesn’t want to return to the reality of Tony Stark, owner of a multibillion dollar corporation, just yet. For at least a while longer, he just wants to stay like this: relaxed in the presence of his kid, where he doesn’t have to be anything or anyone but Peter’s almost-father as he reassures himself of Peter’s continued existence.

He makes up his mind. “No,” he says. He doesn’t hesitate to change direction, luring Peter away with the promise of a treat—“You’ve been wanting to visit that new ice cream parlor near your school, right? You mentioned something about that last weekend.”

Peter stops short, staring at Tony in unmitigated awe. “You… you remember that?” he whispers.

Tony pauses, too, glancing sidelong at the kid. He huffs as if offended. “Peter, some people would say that I’m the smartest man alive,” he reminds Peter with an arched eyebrow. “Of course I remember. Or do you doubt my memory capacity?”

“No! That’s not… that’s not what I meant,” Peter stammers. “I just thought… I guess I didn’t realize you were actually paying attention. I know I ramble a lot, so…”

Tony softens. “Of course I listened, kid,” he says, and somehow, he sounds even more offended than when he thought his intelligence was in question. At the same time, though, he sounds immeasurably fond. Adoring, even—the way Peter sounds, sometimes, when he’s gushing over an endearing kitten. “I always listen to you.”

Peter sniffles. Tony graciously ignores it and urges Peter along once more with a murmured come on. Peter hastens to follow and falls into lockstep with his mentor.

In the end, they walk away together, side-by-side, as the Midtown High students and staff watch on in openmouthed shock.

:::

“Don’t ever do that to me again, or I swear, Peter, a drunk driver will be the least of your worries,” Tony threatens once the Midtown High gaggle of gawkers are out of earshot, but the still-present tears in his eyes and the disbelieving—awed—smile on his lips betray the truth. He has no room left for anger when all he can feel is relief. Relief and so, so much gratitude. Thank God you’re okay.

He squeezes his eyes shut and slings an arm around Peter’s shoulders, tugging him close. His body seems to be acting of its own volition as he ducks his head slightly and presses a kiss to the crown of Peter’s head.

Peter flushes bright red, but beyond the embarrassment, there’s something giddy about the bounce in his step and the way he burrows closer to Tony’s side.

Tony’s heart swells. This kid. “I can’t lose you, kiddo,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says meekly, guilt flashing across his eyes and drowning out his quiet elation at Tony’s blatant show of affection. The last thing he’d ever wanted to do was add to his mentor’s burdens. “I swear I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You better not have meant to. You know I have heart problems, kid,” Tony accuses, and though he means to come across as playful, the words reveal something raw and broken inside him, reflected in the scratchy quality of his voice.

A pause. And then, like the first ray of sunlight after a tumultuous storm, Peter teases, “I knew you cared.” But despite his mirthful facade, a hint of sincerity shines through as Peter grips Tony’s hand in his own, like a terrified little boy hanging on to his lifeline—a guiding light in the dark, someone to look up to and someone to follow.

(It’s easy, sometimes, to forget that Peter is still just a teenaged boy, lost in the real world.

Other times, it’s impossible to forget it—to forget that tragedy took Peter’s innocence from him far too soon; to forget that despite his maturity and strength and sense of responsibility, Peter is only a child.

In times like these, Tony can’t forget. All he can do is hold on tight and hope he can keep Peter grounded. Hope he’s enough to remind Peter that he isn’t alone.)

Tony is tempted to play along, to laugh and dismiss Peter’s words with a roll of his eyes and a “get real, kid.” But the memory of Peter’s blood-splattered face is still too fresh in his mind, so instead, he blurts out, all too honest, “Of course I care about you. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Peter falls silent, wide-eyed as he stares at his mentor.

Tony swallows, squeezes Peter’s hand tightly in a moment of comfort for the both of them. “You’re – you’re like… like Sullivan Junior.” Young and pure. An innocent child—my innocent child. “You know?”

“Uh,”—Peter raises an unimpressed eyebrow, his stunned awe momentarily back-burnered—“I have no idea who that is, Mr. Stark. If he’s from one of your old movies, then I’m going to need some background context.”

Tony shoves Peter with a huff. “They’re not old!” he protests, the beginning of a familiar argument buzzing between them. It’d be so simple, so natural, to fall back into their usual back-and-forth, their easy banter. But he’s tired of running away from this—from the pride and fondness and affection he feels for Peter—and so he pushes the beckoning urge away and says, “You’d be Simba, if I were Mufasa—that’s a reference a kid your age can understand, right?”

Peter sniffles. “Makes sense that you’d make yourself a king,” he jokes reflexively, even as his mind buzzes with the implication of Tony’s words.

Tony snorts a laugh, quiet but unfeigned. He lets himself enjoy the comfortable atmosphere settling around them—enjoy the reassurance of Peter’s warm hand in his, the steady heartbeat pulsing in Peter’s wrist tangible against Tony’s thumb—for a moment or two before he clarifies, so plainly that there can be no mistaking his meaning: “You’re like my kid, Peter.” And then, because he always calls Peter ‘kid’ and he doesn’t want there to be any doubts left—“Like my son.”

Peter’s vision blurs with tears. “Mr. Stark—”

“And you’re such a good kid, Pete,” Tony breathes, and the praise washes over Peter like the sunset. Inevitable. Real, natural, genuine. It settles like the truth. Perhaps the truest thing Tony has ever said to Peter.

There’s so much more Tony wants to say, too.

Maybe:

I’m so lucky to know you. More than that—more than just knowing you—I’m so lucky that I get to have this. That I get to have you in my life.

Or:

You’re the best person I know, Pete. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to one day become worthy of you.

Or:

Thank you for being here. For being you.

Or:

You’re not allowed to ever die, you hear me? You can’t ever leave me.

Instead, Tony looks Peter in the eye, basks in the warm hot chocolate hue that feels like home, and simply settles on:

“I love you, kid.”

Because this – this is the most important thing. This is what matters most. And as long as Peter knows that, as long as Peter knows his place in Tony’s heart… the rest will follow.

They’ll find their way.

As if to reaffirm Tony's thoughts, Peter subconsciously steps closer towards his mentor, like a child blindly reaching out for their parent in a crowd full of strangers. “I love you, too, Mr. Stark,” he whispers, breathless as if he’s caught in a dream—but despite the awed disbelief in his voice, there is also certainty. Conviction. Peter doesn’t need to think about this—about what Mr. Stark has come to mean to him, beyond his initial starry-eyed impression of the famous Avenger. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Mr. Stark as just a hero, as just Iron Man, as just anything. “I've thought of you as a father figure for a while now.”

Tony, unable to help himself, drops another kiss onto Peter’s forehead. Peter blinks rapidly and clutches his mentor’s hand—his dad’s hand, he thinks giddily, because he can call him that now—tighter, feeling rather than seeing the tender smile on Tony’s face.

“I’m glad,” Tony murmurs, and his heart feels like it’s about to burst from all the joy and bliss flooding him. Peter beams up at him in response, and as Tony imprints the sight of Peter’s happiness in his memory forever, he can’t help but think, again:

This is the most important thing.

:::

They get their ice cream eventually, Peter eagerly and unashamedly wolfing down half a dozen scoops as he recounts the day’s events with animated gestures and infectious laughs.

All the while, Tony watches Peter over his own scoop of ice cream, his gaze openly affectionate and doting, his heart rate gradually slowing and settling with the reassurance that Peter is right here.

(The Iron Man sentry watches, too, FRIDAY’s sensors online and on the alert for potential dangers to Peter Parker’s person. Peter has never felt more safe.)

:::

Once they’ve devoured enough ice cream to satisfy both their appetites (which unsurprisingly takes a lot more scoops for the growing Spiderling than it does for Tony), Tony leaves a wad of cash on the table and shepherds the kid out the door.

The glass doors swing shut behind them. Tony beckons the Iron Man armor to him and, once re-suited up, promptly opens his arms in a wordless invitation.

Peter rolls his eyes in exasperation, but obligingly steps into the space between Tony’s arms with nothing more than a tolerant huff. Tony absolutely does not sigh in inaudible relief as he grips Peter tightly and blasts off into the skies.

As the familiar neighborhoods of his hometown begin to shrink in the distance, Peter’s reservations gradually leach away into the open air. He lets out an involuntary yawn. Eyes helplessly drooping closed, Peter nestles his head more comfortably against Tony’s metal-plated chest.

Within seconds, he’s out cold again.

Shaking his head in amused disbelief at the kid dozing off in his arms, Tony inwardly melts at the implicit show of trust. Granted, Peter could probably fall asleep anywhere—as evidenced by his earlier untimely power nap in the middle of the road—but still. Just the thought that Peter feels safe and secure enough to drift off as they hurtle through the air at high speed, Tony’s arms the only thing keeping Peter from plummeting to his death?

Well.

Peter’s faith in him will never stop leaving him breathless.

The thing is, Tony doesn’t have any of his biological family left.

Truthfully, he’s never even known family, not really—or, at least, he’s never known the type of family Peter and May represent, bound together by unconditional love and trust, existing in a pocket universe of their own making, a safe haven closed off to the rest of the world.

Tony’s own immediate family is nonexistent. He barely remembers his grandparents; he has no siblings to call his own; and as for his parents, well—he lost them long before fate and the Winter Soldier took them from him for good. He lost them to his mother’s neglect and long absences, to his father’s harsh disapproval and cutting remarks, to years of silent suffering behind closed doors.

He used to think he barely knows what family even means.

But when he looks at Peter now, unashamedly snuggled up to him, face open and vulnerable and trusting even in sleep, he thinks he might finally understand. He doesn’t need blood to tell him that this is what family should feel like: warmth and safety and a home away from home.

He thinks he might have found family in Peter—in late night dinners with the two of them trading half-baked ideas for quirky gadgets and suit modifications over the kitchen table; in working side-by-side with Peter in comfortable silence, a well-oiled machine; in movie marathons spent crowded on the couch, Peter’s head on his chest and Pepper’s hand in his; in lab sessions filled with them hollering at each other across the room, Peter diligently working on calculations or doing homework on the floor; in long car rides across the bustling city, Peter rambling in his ear and Happy chuckling from the driver’s seat; in weekend sleepovers and early morning runs with Peter and Rhodey on either side of him; in watching baking competition shows with Peter and his aunt in their pajamas, Peter sandwiched between the two adults on the Parkers’ beaten couch.

A family forged through an eternity of contented moments, away from the glaring, unforgiving media spotlight that accompanied every waking moment of his childhood.

He may not have the DNA to prove that there’s love there, but he doesn’t need it. This is his family—they are all his family—and he belongs to them more than he has ever belonged to his parents.

He glances down at Peter, tucked securely in his arms, unguarded and trustful as Tony flies him across the New York skies. All at once, Tony feels so much love swell inside him that he thinks he might implode from the enormity of it.

Peter is his family, and Tony loves him fiercely. It comes naturally, then—the realization that he’d do anything for this precious kid draped across his arms.

I’ll protect you always, he thinks, a promise burning bright in his chest. It’s a promise he means to keep, for the rest of his life. No matter what struggles you have to face—whether it be gun-toting criminals or drunk teenagers behind the wheel—come rain or shine, I’ll be here.

I am here, kid.

Forever.

:::

BONUS #1:

Tony does, eventually, agree to accompany Peter back to Midtown High—ostensibly to retrieve Peter’s bags and books, but in reality for his own ulterior motives. As Peter makes his way to his locker, Tony makes a detour to a different locker, having discreetly consulted FRIDAY for the name and identity behind the Twitter account that posted Peter’s obituary earlier that day. With all the resources at his disposal, it takes him no time at all to locate Flash Thompson’s locker.

That’s where Peter finds him a few minutes later, schoolbag slung over one shoulder. Peter narrows his eyes at his conspicuous mentor. “What are you doing in front of Flash’s locker, Mr. Stark?” he asks suspiciously.

Tony just smiles, but there’s a wicked gleam to it. “Nothing,” he lies, thinking of the passive-aggressive (read: aggressive as hell) letter he’d printed on official Stark Industries stationery and slipped into the offending locker, in which he’d not-very-subtly threatened to completely obliterate Flash’s academic career and generally make his life miserable if he even looked at Peter the wrong way again.

His smile widens as he ushers Peter away without so much as a backwards glance. “Absolutely nothing at all.”

:::

BONUS #2:

(If Tony Stark goes home that day and immediately messages May to badger her to get him listed as Peter’s second emergency contact in Midtown High’s system—just to prevent another misunderstanding like this, he pleads, and he isn’t lying, but that isn’t his only reason, either—well, that’s his business.)

:::

BONUS #3:

When the time to participate in the Every Fifteen Minutes program rolls by once again the next year, students are expressly banned from taking pictures during the event to prevent another fiasco (ft. another Helicopter Parent, even if not Tony Stark).

Notably, Peter Parker is not asked to be one of the casualties again.

:::

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

#marvel #mcu #iron dad #irondad and spiderson #spiderman #iron man #peter parker #tony stark #marvel fanfiction #iron dad fanfiction #ned leeds #flash thompson #irondad fluff #trope: presumed dead #faye writes

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path-of-my-childhood · 4 years

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Taylor Swift’s “Beautiful Ghosts” might be the best part of the Cats movie

Vox // By Aja Romano // November 20th 2019

“Beautiful Ghosts,” the song that Taylor Swift put words to for Tom Hooper’s upcoming Cats movie, has arrived - and guess what? Swift might be Cats creator and famed Broadway composer Andrew Lloyd Webber’s ideal lyricist.

Lloyd Webber is the man who brought the world Phantom of the Opera, Jesus Christ Superstar, Evita, and one of the most recorded songs in theatre history, “Memory” from Cats. He is notorious for writing musicals with beautiful music and weak lyrics. But “Beautiful Ghosts” makes a compelling argument that what every ALW musical needs is a shrewd lyricist who was once a teenage girl - and who, consequently, is not embarrassed to embrace the gushy romantic heart of his music. Here are five reasons “Beautiful Ghosts” is worth a second listen, or several.

1) It adds to our understanding of Victoria, the White Cat. “Beautiful Ghosts” isn’t a showy end-credits pop song; it’s a new song inserted into the plot of the show. It will follow “Memory” in the upcoming film. The cat who sings it, Victoria has a bigger role: Now, the entire story is framed through her point of view, and Victoria is a younger mirror of Grizabella.

In “Beautiful Ghosts,” Victoria echoes “Memory” and reflects on Grizabella’s tragic life, as well as her own. “Memory” keeps calling for “new life,” while through “Beautiful Ghosts,” Victoria transitions from “Memory’s” sadness to a joy that’s all her own - through the realization that she loves the life she has. Where “Memory” is fuzzy, with vague hints of former happiness, “Beautiful Ghosts” weaves a mini-narrative of Victoria’s life: cast onto the streets, apparently by cruel former owners, she distrusts other cats, but eventually befriends them and comes to love her life. With this one song, she goes from being opaque and silent to having depth, complexity, and a backstory that doesn’t involve her being a sex object.

2) It helps us understand “Memory.” Even though “Beautiful Ghosts” is sung by Victoria to Grizabella, it also gives us crucial insight into Grizabella’s life. When Victoria sings lines like, “Should I take chances when no one took chances on me?” she’s simultaneously referencing her own life and Grizabella’s: Grizabella at least knew a time when she was loved and admired, and had human companionship to look back on. Victoria has only known rejection.

Taylor Swift has clearly asked herself, “How can I bring more coherence to “Memory,” a weird-ass song about a cat who is also a sex worker who is also dying and friendless and stuck with her memories of having once been very hot?” The solution, which she provides in “Beautiful Ghosts,” is to give Grizabella slightly more of a past.

In a recent radio interview, Swift described her approach to creating the song - which involved contrasting Victoria’s life with Grizabella’s: ‘Memory’ is Grizabella singing about how she had all these beautiful, incredible moments in her past. She had these glittering occasions and she felt beautiful and she felt wanted and now she doesn’t feel that way anymore.’ This is fanfic on Swift’s part. While this glittering history can be implied, it’s not literally in the lyrics to “Memory,“ or anywhere else in Cats - the most concrete detail “Memory” offers is that Grizabella once enjoyed “days in the sun.” It’s a huge bonus to see Grizabella given a more concrete backstory that has nothing to do with her, uh, hanging out in brothels.

“Beautiful Ghosts” explains that Grizabella was “born into nothing” but now has memories of “dazzling rooms” and a time she was not just beautiful, but loved. In essence, Swift has not only crafted a satisfying character song for Victoria - she’s deepened Grizabella and “Memory” too.

3) It’s clearly a song that could be sung by a cat. This is hard! “Memory” couldn’t manage it and from the first line of “Beautiful Ghosts,” the song feels like one that could be sung by a cat - one who has wandered the streets, hearing the voices of its fellow cats in the dark. Victoria sings of the “wild ones” who “tame the fear” within her as she longs to “get let into” the rooms inhabited by the humans she once knew and yearned for love from. These are bittersweet lyrics, but more importantly, they’re lyrics that pretty clearly describe the life of a cat.

The extent to which Swift has thought about how cats feel becomes increasingly apparent when you realize that “Beautiful Ghosts” is a hymn to found family and the alley cat existence, the freedom of a life lived on the streets, and the beauty of, well, a gang of stray cats. (This may also sound like a metaphor for marginalized communities finding strength in each other after being turned out of their homes.)

4) It hints at what a new Andrew Lloyd Webber musical could be like with a smart lyricist who embraces his romanticism. The typical trade-off with Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals is that his lush, lofty melodic lines take priority over lyrics. The general wisdom among musical theater fans is that ALW was only truly great when he was composing with his earliest collaborator, the brilliant lyricist Tim Rice. The ALW/Rice shows (Jesus Christ Superstar, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Evita) are fantastic - witty, satirical, and incisive, ranging from complex political themes to rollicking whimsy and charming pastiche.

ALW’s later shows’ scores were often gorgeous, full of beautiful melodies. But the plots were often too soapy, and he bounced around between lyricists who frequently paired his music with asinine words. When ALW was working with someone equally as or more talented than he was, he managed to create popular, lasting shows, including Cats and Phantom of the Opera. But ALW didn’t always work with equals who could rein him in. And so he only kept getting more extravagant in his desire to combine deeply emotional musical motifs with schmoopy, overblown storylines. In other words, post-Rice, ALW has always been hampered by his own self-indulgence and the lack of a lyricist as good at writing lyrics as ALW is at writing music.

That’s why a Taylor Swift-ALW collaboration is genuinely exciting. In the annals of ALW collaborators, Swift may be the first lyricist with the range, experience, and stature to stand alongside Rice. But more importantly, she clearly loves Cats, loves the music, and loves actual cats. In that interview quoted above, for example, she discussed Victoria’s cat psychology at length. I cannot imagine any circumstances in which Tim Rice would say, as Swift did in that interview, “I got you. I know what that cat would say.”

And that may be what so many previous ALW musicals have lacked: the enthusiasm of a smart, savvy songwriter who’s also not afraid to unironically love and embrace her subject matter. Taylor Swift isn’t just a brilliant songwriter who credits the lyrics of Fall Out Boy’s Pete Wentz for teaching her to write music with sharp edges and blatant emotive power. She’s also a fangirl. And fangirls know how to deliver deep, smart character studies while amplifying the emotional core of the stories they love. That combination of shrewd songwriting and passion is what propels the final verse of “Beautiful Ghosts” into something truly great.

5) “Beautiful Ghosts” has a surprise twist ending. Taylor Swift learned a lot from brilliant country songwriters, and one of the common country song traits she likes to carry forward is the “twist.” That’s when the final stanza upends the original meaning of the song and shifts the refrain into something new, surprising, and even richer. Throughout “Beautiful Ghosts,” Victoria has emphasized the fact that Grizabella still has her memories: “at least you have beautiful ghosts,” she sings, and the ghosts are the memories of Grizabella’s life of being beautiful and adored.

By contrast, Victoria herself has always lived on the streets, eventually taken in by the stray cats she eventually began to see as family. Initially, she describes the strays as voices she can only hear in the dark, while she wanders the streets, “alone and haunted.” Later, they become “phantoms of night,” as they lure her into her new exciting life. Finally, when Victoria has her epiphany that she’s happy with her friends, and she loves her alleycat life, she shifts from singing enviously to Grizabella about the “beautiful ghosts” of her memories. Instead, she sings, “So I’ll dance with these beautiful ghosts.”

The ghosts at the end of the song are the cats! Victoria’s ghosts are flesh and blood, and also have you ever met a cat, cats are clearly ghosts, with their silent paws and their eerie glow-eyes, and their ability to vanish into thin air. (Holy shit, the ghosts are the cats!) Only Taylor Swift could turn a metaphor about lost memories into a literal description of cats that is also a metaphor for found families and friendship. Don’t argue with me, this is perfect.

#this was a very fun read - it is however shortened a bit so go read the linked original #thanks anon for sending me this =)#it helps to understand everything a bit better #taylor swift #article #beautiful ghosts #andrew lloyd webber #cats #about taylor #Vox #songwriting

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